end;
but who with fate and quart bumpers tend!
though fate said, a hero should perish in light;
so uprose bright phoebus—and dowhe knight.
uprose our bard, like a prophet in drink:—
“craigdarroch, thou'lt soar wheion shall sink!
but if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme,
e—otle more—and have at the sublime!
“thy lihat have struggled for freedom with bruce,
shall heroes and patriots ever produce:
so thihe urel, and mihe bay;
the field thou hast won, by yht god of day!”