Page:Wallace and Bruce.pdf/22

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He comes! exult, thou Sire of Kings! From thee the chief, th’ avenger springs! Far o'er the land he comes to save, His banners in their glory wave, And Albyn's thousand harps awake On hill and heath, by stream and lake, To swell the strains, that far around Bid the proud name of Bruce resound! And I—but wherefore now recall The whispered omens of my fall? They come not in mysterious gloom— There is no bondage in the tomb! O'er the soul's world no tyrant reigns, And earth alone for man hath chains! What though I perish ere the hour When Scotland's vengeance wakes in power,