XXXIII. Quair lyke a fyre to hether set, He fpurd his fteid throw thickest ranks Quha ftude unmufit at his approach XXXIV. That schort brown fhaft fae meanly trimd, Aft Britains blude has dimd its shyne XXXV. Schort quhyle he in his fadill swang, His ftirrip was nae stay, Sae feible hang his unbent knee, Swith on the hardened clay he fell, But THOMAS luikt not as he lay, XXXVI. With cairles gefture mynd unmuvit Nor zit his heart dames dimpelit cheik, XXXVII. In thrawis of death, with wallowit cheik The fainting corps of warriors lay, Neir to return to native land, Nae mair with blythfome founds, To boift the glories of the day, XXXXVIII. On Norways coast the widowit dame Ceife, EMMA, ceise to hope in vain, The valziant Scots nae revers thole XXXIX. There on a lie quhair stands a cross Set up for monument, Thoufands full fierce that fummers day Let Scots quhyle Scots, praife HARDYKNUTE XL. Loud and chill blew the weftlin wind, Mirk grew the nicht, eir HARDYKNUTE His towir that ufd with torches bleife Seimd now as black as mourning weid, Nae marvel fair he fichd. XLI. Thairs nae licht in my lady's bowir, Nae blink fhynes round my FAIRLY fair, Quhat bodes it? ROBERT, THOMAS say, Stand back, my fons, I'll be zour gyde, XLII. As faft I haif fped owre Scotlands faes, There ceift his brag of weir, Sair schamit to mynd ocht but his dame, Black feir he felt, but quhat to feir NCE more I join the Thefpian quire, O parent of the Græcian lyre, Admit me to thy fecret ftrain. And lo! with ease my step invades I fee ANACREON fmile and fing: |