'Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me Ye break the bands of fealty.
My life, my honour, and my cause, I tender free to Scotland's laws.
Are these so weak as must require 'Fine aid of your misguided ire?
Or if I suffer causeless wrong, Is then my selfish rage so strong, My sense of public weal so low, That, for mean vengeance on a foe, Those cords of love I should unbind Which knit my country and my kind?
O no! Believe, in yonder tower It will not soothe my captive hour, To know those spears our foes should dread For me in kindred gore are red:
'To know, in fruitless brawl begun, For me that mother wails her son, For me that widow's mate expires, For me that orphans weep their sires, That patriots mourn insulted laws, And curse the Douglas for the cause.
O let your patience ward such ill, And keep your right to love me still I'
