Wallace repaid their kindness with a few ballads,
which he sung accompanied by his harp. As he gave the last notes of
"King Arthur's Death in Glory," the worthy cotter raised his head from
the spade on which he leaned, and asked whether he could not sing the
glory of Scotland.
"Our renowned Wallace," said he, "is worth King Arthur and all the
stranger knights of his round table, for he not only conquers for us in
war, but establishes us in happy peace. Who like him, of all our great
captains, ever took such care of the poor as to give them, not only the
bread which sustains temporal, but that which supports eternal life?
Sing us then his praises, minstrel, and tarry with us days instead of
hours."
The wife, and the children who clung around their melodious visitant,
joined in this request. Wallace rose with a saddened smile, and
replied:
"I cannot do what you require; but I can yield you an opportunity to
oblige Sir William Wallace. Will you take a letter from him, of which
I am the bearer, to Lord Dundaf at Berwick? I have been seeking, what
I have now found, a faithful Scot, with whom I could confide this
trust. It is to reveal to a father's heart the death of a son, for
whom Scotland must mourn to her latest generations.
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