Page:Wallace and Bruce.pdf/14

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And wo to him whose might would dare, The energies of thy despair! No!—when thy chain, O Bruce! is cast O'er thy land's chartered mountain-blast, Then in my yielding soul shall die The glorious faith of Liberty."   "Wild hopes! o'er dreamer's mind that rise!" With haughty laugh the Conqueror cries, (Yet his dark cheek is flushed with shame, And his eye filled with troubled flame;) "Vain, brief illusions! doomed to fly England's red path of victory! Is not her sword unmatched in might? Her course, a torrent in the fight? The terror of her name gone forth Wide o'er the regions of the north?