Ballad（2 / 2）

the wildest savage tory;

and welsh who ne'er yet flinch'd his ground,

high-wav'd his magnum-bonum round

with cyclopeian fury.

miller brought up th' artillery ranks,

the many-pounders of the banks,

resistless desolation!

while maxwelton, that baron bold,

'mid lawson's port entrench'd his hold,

and threaten'd worse damnation.

to these what tory hosts oppos'd

with these what tory warriors clos'd

surpasses my descriving;

squadrons, extended long and large,

with furious speed rush to the charge,

like furious devils driving.

what verse can sing, what prose narrate,

the butcher deeds of bloody fate,

amid this mighty tulyie!

grim horror girn'd, pale terror roar'd,

as murder at his thrapple shor'd,

and hell mix'd in the brulyie.

as highland craigs by thunder cleft,

when lightnings fire the stormy lift,

hurl down with crashing rattle;

as flames among a hundred 18wends,

as headlong foam from a hundred floods,

such is the rage of battle.

the stubborn tories dare to die;

as soon the rooted oaks would fly

before th' approaching fellers:

the whigs come on like ocean's roar,

when all his wintry billows pour

against the buchan bullers.

lo, from the shades of death's deep night,

departed whigs enjoy the fight,

and think on former daring:

the muffled murtherer of charles

the magna charter flag unfurls,

all deadly gules its bearing.

nor wanting ghosts of tory fame;

bold scrimgeour follows gallant graham;

auld covenanters shiver—

forgive! forgive! much-wrong'd montrose!

now death and hell engulph thy foes,

thou liv'st on high for ever.

still o'er the field the combat burns,

the tories, whigs, give way by turns;

but fate the word has spoken:

for woman's wit and strength o'man,

alas! can do but what they can;

the tory ranks are broken.

o that my een were flowing burns!

my voice, a lioness that mourns

her darling cubs' undoing!

that i might greet, that i might cry,

while tories fall, while tories fly,

and furious whigs pursuing!

what whig but melts for good sir james,

dear to his country, by the names,

friend, patron, benefactor!

not pulteney's wealth can pulteney save;

and hopetoun falls, the generous, brave;

and stewart, bold as hector.

thou, pitt, shalt rue this overthrow,

and thurlow growl a curse of woe,

and melville melt in wailing:

now fox and sheridan rejoice,

and burke shall sing, “o prince, arise!

thy power is all-prevailing!”

for your poor friend, the bard, afar

he only hears and sees the war,

a cool spectator purely!

so, when the storm the forest rends,

the robin in the hedge descends,

and sober chirps securely.

now, for my friends' and brethren's sakes,

and for my dear-lov'd land o' cakes,

i pray with holy fire:

lord, send a rough-shod troop o' hell

o'er a' wad scotland buy or sell,

to grind them in the mire!