of the last minstrel.
95
And half appall'd, we seem to hear
His glittering claymore's mortal clash!
His glittering claymore's mortal clash!
Oh Scotland! if within thee rest
One spark, to fame, to honour dear,
How must he warm thy rugged breast,
Who tells thee what thy fathers were!
One spark, to fame, to honour dear,
How must he warm thy rugged breast,
Who tells thee what thy fathers were!
And do we doubt, if still remains
In Scottish hearts the patriot glow?
Go ask, 'mid Egypt's distant plains,
How Caledonians meet the foe!
In Scottish hearts the patriot glow?
Go ask, 'mid Egypt's distant plains,
How Caledonians meet the foe!
While to the whistling northern blast
The thistle rears her purple head,
So long shall Scotland's glory last,
And wide her song of fame be spread,
The thistle rears her purple head,
So long shall Scotland's glory last,
And wide her song of fame be spread,
