Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to glorious victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour-
See the front o' battle lour;

See approach proud Edward's power-
Edward! chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor-knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?.
Wha sae base as be a slave?

Traitor coward! turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
Caledonian on wi' me!

By oppression's woes and pains!
By our sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be-shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberty's in every blow!

Forward let us do, or die!

BEHOLD THE HOUR.

Tune-" Oran-gaoil."

["The following song I have composed for the Highland air that you tell me in your last you have resolved to give a place to in your book. I have this moment finished the song, so you have it glowing from the mint." These are the words of Burns to Thomson: he might have added that the song was written on the meditated voyage of Clarinda to the West Indies, to join her husband.]

BEHOLD the hour, the boat arrive;

Thou goest, thou darling of my heart!

Sever'd from thee can I survive?

But fate has will'd, and we must part.

I'll often greet this surging swell,

Yon distant isle will often hail: