Classic Poem

Lane , on the winding Earn, there stands
An unco tow'r, sae stern an' auld,
Biggit by lang forgotten hands,—
Ance refuge o' the Wallace bauld.

Time's restless finger sair hath waur'd,
And rived thy grey disjaskit wa';
But rougher hands than Time's ha'e daur'd
To wrang thee, bonny Gascon Ha'.

O! may a muse unkent to fame
For this dim gruesome relic sue:
'Tis linkit wi' a patriot's name,
The truest Scotland ever knew.

Just leave in peace ilk mossy stane,
Tellin' o' nations' rivalry;
And for succeeding ages hain
Remains o' Scottish chivalry.

What tho' no monument to thee
Is biggit by thy country's hand,—
Engraved are thine immortal deeds
On ev'ry heart in this braid land.

Rude Time may monuments ding doun,
An' tow'rs an' wa's maun a' decay;
Enduring—deathless—noble Chief,
Thy name can never pass away!

Gi'e pillar'd fame to common men,—
Nae need o' cairns for ane like thee;
In ev'ry cave, wood, hill, and glen,
W ALLACE remembered aye shall be.