Felicia Hemans

“ And the wild fastnesses are ours,
The rocks, with their eternal towers!
The soul, to struggle and to dare,
Is mingled with our northern air,
And dust beneath our soil is lying
Of those who died for fame undying. ”

“ Thine, Wallace while the heart hath still
One pulse a generous thought can thrill,
While youth's warm tears are yet the meed
Of martyr's death, or hero's deed,
Shall brightly live, from age to age,
Thy country's proudest heritage! ”

“ Yielded the Roman—but a grave!
Nobly they fell—yet with them died
The warrior's hope, the leader's pride.
Vainly they fell—that martyr-host—
All, save the land's high soul, is lost.
Blest are the slain! ”