| Battle of Stirling by William Sinclair
To Scotland's ancient realm,
Proud Edward's armies came;
To sap our freedom and overwhelm
Our martial forces in shame.
'It shall not be' brave Wallace cried!
'It shall not be' his chiefs relied!
By the name our fathers gave her,
Our steel shall drink the crimson stream,
We'll all her dearest right redeem,
Our own broadswords shall save her.
With hopes of triumph flush'd,
The squadrons hurried o'er
Thy Bridge Kildean, and heaving rush'd
Like wild waves to the shore.
'They come, they come' was the gallant cry,
'They come, they come' was the loud reply.
O strength thou gracious giver,
By love and freedoms stainless faith,
We'll dare the darkest night of death,
We'll drive them back forever.
All o'er the waving broom,
In chivalry and grace,
Shone England's radiant spear and plume
By Stirling's rocky base.
And stretching far beneath the view,
Proud Cressingham, thy banners flew.
When like a torrent rushing,
O God! from right and left the flame,
Of Scottish swords like lightning came,
Great Edward's legions crushing.
High praise, ye gallant band,
Who in the face of day,
With daring hearts and fearless hands
Have cast your chains away.
The foemen fell on ev'ry side,
In crimson hues the Forth was dyed.
Bedew'd with blood the heather,
While cries triumphant shook the air,
Thus shall we do, shall we dare,
Wherever Scotsmen gather.
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