55 
Sweet tiny bells ! our step we stay, 
And bear a fairy branch away, 
To ’mind us of tby sister fair. 
Stem Scotland’s darling child, 
Which blooms upon her mountains bare, 
Cheering the lonely wild. 
And with the thought of her bleak home 
How thick the recollections corne 
Of such as Bruce and Wallace led; 
Of many a mountaineer 
In Scotland’s cause who fearless bled. 
And won her freedom dear. 
Unmeet to catch the careless eye, 
Many there be would pass thee by, 
Nor list the silent history 
Thy lowly leaves proclaim, 
The never-dying memory 
Of Scotland’s warlike famé. 
’Tis well on such a theme to muse, 
Such shadowy legends to peruse; 
Till, as high thoughts our soûls inspire 
At every sacred name, 
The slumbering spark of patriot tire 
Shall kindle into flame! 
