Page:Scotland's skaith, or, The sad effects of drunkenness (1).pdf/17

 17 Thrice frae aff the grund he started, Thrice to stand he strave in vain, Thrice, as tainting strength departed, Sighed-and sank 'mid heaps of slain. Erskine, wha ne'er slighted merit, non Mark'd; him 'mid the bloody fray; Save that gallant daring spirit, Twice he saved my life the day. Battle fast on battle raging, Wed our stalwart youths away, Day by day new foes engaging, Forced the weary back to fa'. Driven at last frae post to pillar, Left by friends wha ne'er proved true, Tricked by knaves wha pouched our sillew What could worn out valour do! Myriads dark, like gathering thunder, Bursting, spread o'er land and sea; Left alane, alas! nae wondern Britain's sons were forced to flee. Cross the Ware and Yssel frozen, Deep through bogs and drifted snaw, Wounded, weak, and spent, our chosen Gallant men now faint and fa', On a cart wi' comrades bluiding, Stiff wi' gore, and cauld as clay, Without cover, bed, or bedding, Five lang nights Will Gairlace lay.