Of our ancestors, brave true ancient Scots,
Whose glorious scutcheons knew no bars or blots;
But blood untainted circled ev'ry vein,
And ev'ry thing ignoble did disdain;
Of such illustrious patriots and bold,
Who stoutly did maintain our rights of old,
Who their malicious, invet'rate foes,
With sword in hand, did gallantly oppose:
And in their own, and nation's just defence,
Did briskly check the frequent insolence
Of haughty neighbours, enemies profest,
Picts, Danes, and Saxons, Scotland's very pest;
Of such, I say, I'll brag and vaunt so long
As I have power to use my pen or tongue;
And sound their praises in such modern strain
As suiteth best a Scot's poetic vein,
First, here I honour, in particular,
Sir William Wallace, much renown'd in war,
Whose bold progenitors have long time stood,
Of honourable and true Scottish blood.
