As its vast evolvements floated on the air, the cry of triumph, the
loud clarion of honest triumph, burst from every heart, horn, and
trumpet below. It was a shout that pierced the skies, and entered the
soul of Wallace with a bliss which seemed a promise of immortality.
"O God!" cried he, still grasping the staff, and looking up to heaven;
"we got not this in possession through our own might, but thy right
hand and the light of thy countenance overthrew the enemy! Thine the
conquest, thine the glory!"
"Thus we consecrate the day to thee, Power of Heaven!" rejoined
Scrymgeour. "And let this standard be thine own; and whithersoever we
bear it, may we ever find it as the ark of our God!"
Wallace, feeling as if no eye looked on them but that of Heaven,
dropped on his knee; and rising again, took Sir Alexander by the hand;
"My brave friend," said he, "we have here planted the tree of freedom
in Scotland. Should I die in its defense, swear to bury me under its
branches; swear that no enslaved grounds shall cover my remains."
"I swear," cried Scrymgeour, laying his crossed hands upon the arm of
Wallace; "I swear with a double vow; by the blood of my brave
ancestors, whose valor gave me the name I bear; by the cross of St.
Pages:
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324