The fire of conflict burned within, The battle trembled to begin; Yet, while the Austrians held their ground, And perish at their tyrants' feet: It must not be: this day, this hour, Few were the number she could boast, Yet every And felt as 'twere a secret known That one should turn the scale alone, While each unto himself were he It did depend on one indeed; There sounds not to the trump of fame Unmarked he stood amid the throng, Till you might see, with sudden grace, Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. But 'twas no sooner thought than done, "Make way for Liberty!" he cried, Swift to the breach his comrades fly; Rout, ruin, panic seized them all; An earthquake could not overthrow Thus Switzerland again was free; Thus Death made way for Liberty! James Montgomery [1771-1854] THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN [AUGUST 10, 1388] Ir fell about the Lammas tide, He chose the Gordons and the Græmes, But the Jardines wald not with him ride, And they hae harried the dales o' Tyne, And the Otter-dale they burned it hale, Then he cam' up to Newcastle, And rade it round about: "O wha's the lord of this castle? Or wha's the lady o't?" But up spake proud Lord Percy then, "If thou'rt the lord of this castle, He took a lang spear in his hand, But O how pale his lady looked, As down before the Scottish spear "Had we twa been upon the green, I wad hae had you, flesh and fell; "Now gae ye up to Otterbourne, "The Otterbourne's a bonnie burn; 'Tis pleasant there to be; But there is naught at Otterbourne To feed my men and me. "The deer rins wild on hill and dale, "Yet I will stay at Otterbourne, And, if ye come not at three days' end, "Thither will I come," proud Percy said, "By the might of Our Ladye;" "There will I bide thee," said the Douglas, "My troth I plight to thee." They licted high on Otterbourne, They licted high on Otterbourne, And he that had a bonnie boy, But up then spak' a little page, "O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord. "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud! For Percy had not men yestreen "But I hae dreamed a dreary dream, Beyond the Isle of Sky; I saw a deid man win a fight, And I think that man was I." He belted on his gude braid-sword, But he forgot the hewmont strong, When Percy wi' the Douglas met, They swakkit swords, till sair they swat, But Percy wi' his gude braid-sword, And then he called his little foot-page, And said, "Run speedily, And fetch my ain dear sister's son, "My nephew gude," the Douglas said, "What recks the death of ane? Last night I dreamed a dreary dream, And I ken the day's thy ain! "My wound is deep; I fain wad sleep; Tak' thou the vanguard o' the three, And bury me by the braken-bush, "O bury me by the braken-bush, Beneath the blumin' brier; Let never living mortal ken That a kindly Scot lies here." He lifted up that noble lord, Wi' the saut tear in his e'e; He hid him by the braken-bush, That his merrie men might not see. |