If thou would keep good men, and true, from harm,
Men who have fought without one helping arm,
Men on whose necks foes, for three lustres, trod.
Help them, in pity, for the love of God.
Stay not to think, but up, and fell the foe ;
Lighten the burden of thy people's w^oe.
Gird on thy sword, thy trusty weapons take ;
For strong thy limbs, and firm thy sturdy make.
A Scot, the heir of a long royal race.
Good hap advance thee to thy father's place.
Thou shalt, I swear, possess the kingly throne ;
All rights are thine, nought does thy rival own.
Be ever bold to battle for thy right ;
Yet think not rashness e'er can speed the fight.
If fate aUow, tempt not the headlong fray ;
For, unprepared, the best but blindly stray.
Let not the foe forestall thee in the field ;
Beware thou lest the vantage-ground thou yield."