Tuesday, April 26, 2011

A Poem of Wallace

A stirring poem of a principled man surrounded by dead heroes and living cowards.

The Lament of Wallace,
After the Battle of Falkirk

By Robert Tannahill (1774-1810)

"Thou dark winding Carron, once pleasing to see,
To me thou can'st never give pleasure again;
My brave Caledonians lie low on the lea,
And thy streams are deep-ting'd with the blood of the slain.
Ah! base-hearted has doom'd our undoing, -
My poor bleeding country what more can I do?
Even valour looks pale o'er the red field of ruin,
And Freedom beholds her best warriors laid low.

"Farwell, ye dear partners of peril! farewell!
Though buried ye lie in one wide bloody grave,
Your deeds shall ennoble the place where ye fell,
And your names be enroll'd with the sons of the brave.
But I, a poor outcast, in exile must wander,
Perhaps, like a traitor, ignobly must die!
On thy wrongs, O my country! indignant I ponder -
Ah! woe to the hour when thy Wallace must fly!"

2 comments:

  1. When these stirring words I behold,
    And all valiances of old,
    A brave voice soars through my heart;
    The flight of dreams from bowstrings dart,
    And pierce my soul with a boldness,
    While shivers the grave with coldness.
    He is long dead but smites me so;
    I would in battle with him go.

    ~Wesley Reynolds

    ReplyDelete
  2. Peter...a while ago you left a comment on my blog, about the influence Norweigans had on Ireland. I answered your comment on the post on my own blog, but forgot to comment on your blog.
    Yes, we are interested in the history of Ireland, and know some about the influence the Vikings had.
    Your blog is very good! I've enjoyed reading your posts.

    ReplyDelete