Wallace Day & 100th Post!

Well, here's a good Wallace Day to everyone! And also, this is my 100th post on Bonnets and Broadswords! I really can't believe I have written 100 posts, as it's only been about a year and a half since I started. But enough about all my wee sentiments, today is for Wallace, and I think we all need to give a few minutes to remember how he gave his life for the freedom of Scotland.

Last year, I posted a poem I wrote and some of my feelings on Wallace. For want of repeating myself, I'll just suggest for you to look at last year's post and read it for yourself if you have not already.

This year, I have another poem for you. I hope to eventually get together a poem book, and maybe it will be out by Christmas, I don't know yet, but until then, here's a Wallace poem I wrote called Freedom's Champion

It was not for glory that he fought

Our Wallace, brave and true.

For he had only thoughts of freedom

When he stood under the White and the Blue.

Nor was it for fame he risked his life

And fought when no one else would

To free his land from the English tyrant,

For Scotland, he did all he could.

And neither was it for riches he defied

Cruel Longshanks the English king.

He rose and fought for his mother land

Like a valiant eagle on the wing.

Our Wallace was the bravest of men,

He fought with no reserve.

He defied England and its tyranny

For no false king would he serve.

Wallace was betrayed by Menteith

Who prized gold over his native land.

And sad was that awful day

When he was delivered into the Tyrant’s hand.

But Wallace was defiant to the last,

He would never give in.

He vowed to fight to his last breath

Never mind what they would do to him.

It was because of all this

That the men followed him true.

They followed him faithfully to the death

And made the English their deeds to rue.

And it was because of his noble deeds

That we remember him still.

The brave man who fought for his country

And never gave in to Longshanks’ will.

For, William, you were never forgotten,

No matter your thoughts back then.

You’re still very much in Scotland today

And fill the hearts of all the men.

This is a poem that will eventually grace the end of my upcoming novel, Freedom's Sword. If you haven't looked at my recent book about young Wallace, Freedom Come All Ye please do.

On another note, I am still looking for thoughts and I have only gotten one! I want to collect ten by the end of the month, so please tell me what you think about William Wallace. I spilled my heart last year, it's your turn this year!

So at least take the time to read a bit about Wallace today, read some poems, watch Braveheart or something and think for a few minutes about Scotland National Hero.

Alba gu Bragh

Slainte, Hazel

St. Andrew's Day

Happy St. Andrew's Day everyone! Fly your Saltires! I don't have much time to write anything today, but here's a poem I wrote a while ago about the Saltire:

To the Saltire

To our ancestors you showed yourself

On the bright blue Summer's sky

As a sign that they would win the day

As their enemies drew ever nigh.

The white cross of St. Andrew

Is your foreground fair,

And your background of the brightest blue

Is the sky of the Summer's air.

You've flown above the bloody field

Of many a battle won.

Since the days of brave Calgacus

'Till all our fighting will be done.

You were the standard of the normal Scots;

The crofters and the Highland men.

The Lion Rampant is fine for kings,

But you were good enough for them.

You are Scotland as it was and is

And you'll be here is years to come.

For something that has been here so long

Your legacy will forever go on.

You flew in the field with Wallace

And won Bannockburn with our Hero King.

You flew with Bonnie Charlie

And still fly more freely than bird on wing.

Happy will be the day wen you fly

Over a Scotland once more free;

To rid your land of the usurper

And fill the people's hearts with glee.

So keep on flying

For Scotland needs you still.

And one day we all hope to see

The White and Blue on every hill.

Slainte, Hazel

A Ballad of Heroes

I apologize for not posting anything this week, but for some reason I just ran out of time and when I realized it was already Sunday, I was surprised to find I had forgotten to post anything else! As it is, here is another poem I thought I would post for you to read. It's not necessarily about Wallace, but I always liked it in reference to him. I found this one in an old poem anthology from the 1920s and it's one of my favorites. It's Called "A Ballad of Heroes" by Austin Dobson.

Because you passes, and now are not,--

Because, in some remoter day,

Your sacred dust from doubtful spot

Was blown of ancient airs away,--

Because you perished,--must men say

Your deeds were naught, and so profane

Your lives with that cold burden? Nay,

The deeds you wrought are not in vain!

Though, is may be, above the plot

That hid your once imperial clay,

No greener than o'er men forgot

The unregarding grasses sway;--

Though there no sweeter is the lay

From careless bird,--though you remain

Without distinction of decay,--

The deeds you wrought are not in vain!

No. For while yet in tower or cot

Your story stirs the pulses' play;

And men forget the sordid lot--

The sordid care, of cities gray;--

While yet, beset in homelier fray,

They learn from you the lesson plain

That Life may go, so Honor stay,--

The deeds you wrought are not in wain!

Envoy

Heroes of old! I humbly lay

The laurel on your graves again;

Whatever men have done, men may,--

The deeds you wrought are not in vain!

This poem could easily go to any hero through history, and I think it is particularly beautiful. So many people now days think on heroes from history as simply that: History. They say 'it happened so many years ago. Why think about them?' But I'll give you the answer to that. We think on our heroes of old so we have someone to look up to and follow by seeing their accomplishments and defeats and learning from them. Wallace is a talisman for freedom in Scotland. We remember him today as Scots have remembered him centuries ago as the hero who gave Scotland the right of freedom. And without him, Scotland would be in a very poor shape right now with no one to look up to and admire. That's why we need to remember our heroes. And we need to teach kids about them as well. Kinds need to find heroes like Wallace or George Washington to look up to, not the days leading actors and actresses!

As I have said in earlier posts, I am open for any questions, comments or stories concerning William Wallace and would love to hear your insight and feelings about the man. Even if you read these posts late and the month is over, please comment or email me from my profile with anything you wish to say. I would appreciate it very much!

Slainte, Hazel

Another Poem

Here's another poem from The Wallace Muse. These is some excerpts by Andrew Munro from his spic poem on Wallace.

"'Twas he, whose aspiration high

His country's banner had unfurle'd-

A banner brave that kiss'd the sky

In pure unsullied liberty,

When Roman conqu'rors of the world

Invaded Caledonia's strand

But fiercely from her bonds were hurl'd

A foil'd and disappointed band!

'Twas Wallace Wight! Immortal name!

The brightest on the page of fame!

'Twas Wallace! the brave patriot

Who to his country did devote

Hid godlike energies, and who

Nor toils nor dangers could subdue;

Nor Southern promises, nor gold

Could shake the firm and stedfast hold

His love on Scotland had, and, as

His through his life had been, so was

He when 'neath death he fell,

Brave, noble, incorruptible!

And while a noble gratitude

Shall swell the breast and throb the heart

Of man for those who, unsubdued,

By threats of death or tyrant's art,

Have nobly acted patriot's part:

The name of Wallace shall rank high

Among the names that ne'er shall die!

And through the ages it shall be

A talisman for victory!

...

Then Wallace sheathes his sword in peace

'My hope is that as freeman I

Shall live, and as a freeman die,

Feeling, when death shall sound my knell,

That I have done my duty well.

Go, publish wide what I have spoken,

And never shall my word be broken.'

And thus he lived, until at last,

When eight more glorious years had pass'd-

Years which he to his country gave

In wisdom great and actions brave-

A Scottish traitor basely sold

The Wallace wight for English gold.

Oh, Edward! England's ruthless lord,

By me and each true Scot abhorr'd;

Debaser of thy country's coin;-

Thou tyrant o'er thy land and mine,-

Thou robber of that ancient stone

On which our kings were crown'd at Scone,-

Thou murd'rer of the Minstrel band

That cheered and nerv'd the Cambrian land,-

Thou who hast made poor Ireland feel

Upon her neck thine iron heel,-

Thief of the Templars' treasure thou,-

The brand of Cain is on thine brow,-

Was e'er thy face grac'd by a smile,

Thou Nero of the British Isle?

Thou liv'd'st a heartless homicide,

And a defeated dotard died.

The man, who had thy vengeance dar'd,

Thou could'st not bribe, yet his thou fear'd;

Yes him, who's patriotic zeal

So nobly for his country wrought,

Thou, ignominious stoop'd to steal

Because he never could be bought.

And as he liv'd , the patriot died,

His country's boast, his country's pride,

A martyr to earth's noblest cause-

His country's liberty and laws;

And while a Scotsman lives on earth,

And while the land that gives him birth

Exists, his memory shall go down

To endless ages and renown.

But thou, Menteith, accursed name,

Damn'd to eternal scorn and shame,

Thy trusting friend for English gold

Thou, fiendish, heartless traitor, sold;

Thy name's on hist'ry's page a blot,

Thou soulless Scotch Iscariot!

I'll be back later this week with another post as long as I can get time to do it.

Slainte, Hazel

A poem about Wallace

As I said before, I am going to try to share some of my favorite poems about Wallace with you this month. This one comes from a book I have called The Wallace Muse, published through Luath Press. It is a compiolation of Poems and some artwork on William Wallace and a lot of the poems are really heart felt and beautiful. The one I am going to share with you today is called "A Summary History of Sir William Wallace" by William McGonagall in the 18 hundreds.

Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie,

I', told he went to High School in Dundee,

For to learn to read and write,

And after that he learned to fight.

While at the High School in Dundee,

The Provost's son with him did disagree,

Because Wallace he did wear a dirk,

He despised him like an ignorant stirk,

Which with indignation he keenly felt,

And told him it would become him better in his belt.

Then Wallace's blood began to boil,

Just like the serpent in its coil,

Before it leaps upon its prey;

And unto him he thus did say:

'Proud, saucy cur, come cease your prate,

For no longer I shall wait,

For to hear you insult me,

At the High School in Dundee;

For such insolence makes my heart to smart,

And I'll plunge my dagger in your heart.'

Then his heart's blood did quickly flow, 

And poor Wallace did not know where to go;

And he stood by him until dead.

Then far from him he quickly fled,

Lamenting greatly the deed he had done, 

The murdering of the Provost's son.

The scene shifts to where he was fishing one day,

Where three English soldiers met him by the way,

And they asked him to give them some fish,

And from them they would make a delicious dish.

Then Wallace gave them share of his fish,

For to satisfy their wish;

But they seemed dissatisfied with the share they got,

So they were resolved to have all the lot.

Then Wallace he thought it was time to look out,

When they were resolved to have all his trout;

So he swung his fishing-rod with great force round his head,

And struck one of them a blow that killed him dead;

So he instantly seized the fallen man's sword,

And the other two fled without uttering a word.

Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie,

You were a warrior of great renown,

And might have worn Scotland's crown;

Had it not been for Monteith, the base traitor knave,

That brought you to a premature grave;

Yes! you were sold for English gold,

And brought like a sheep from the fold,

To die upon a shameful scaffold high,

Amidst the derisive shouts of your enemies standing by.

But you met your doom like a warrior bold,

Bidding defiance to them that had you sold,

And bared your neck for the headsman's stroke;

And cried, 'Marion, dear, my heart is broke;

My lovely dear, I come to thee,

Oh! I am longing thee to see!'

But the headsman was as stolid as a rock,

And the axe fell heavily on the block,

And the scaffold did shake with the terrible shock,

As the body of Wallace fell,

Who had fought for Scotland so well.

I'll be back Friday with a post about Wallace's trial. And please, as I said in the last post, I am open to any stories or thoughts you would like to share on Wallace. You can either comment or email me from my profile. I want to hear what you think about the man as well. Poems and stories are welcome.

Slainte, Hazel