当苏格兰伟大的摄政王，我们最亲爱的战士，为他本性所欠的债付出代价时，残忍的爱德华，有理由恐惧，有理由沮丧。在爱德华的窗前，乌鸦呱呱地叫着，虽然苏格兰变成了一个寡妇;他打破了华莱士的每一条真正荣誉的领带——乌鸦嘶叫着“悲伤和羞耻!”在老得西城堡，没有乌鸦的声音，只有荣誉和真理的抚慰;他的精神鼓舞了诗人的灵魂去安慰他年轻时的爱情!他们在夜深人静时点燃了蜡烛，唱着他们最神圣的赞美诗;可是她的额头和胸膛都吓得湿透了，她的眼睛昏昏沉沉，睡不着觉!埃尔德西的夫人为她的主人哭泣，在她孤独的房间里敲响了守夜人的钟声，当她的窗帘自动晃动时，渡鸦拍打着她的窗板，宣告她战士的末日。现在你们唱死亡之歌，大声地为我亲爱的骑士的灵魂祈祷吧!在这悲惨的日子，叫我寡妇吧，因为上帝的警告在这里。 For a nightmare rests on my strangled sleep; The lord of my bosom is doomed to die! His valorous heart they have wounded deep, And the blood-red tears his country shall weep For Wallace of Elderslie. Yet knew not his country, that ominous hour, Ere the loud matin-bell was rung, That the trumpet of death on an English tower, The dirge of her champion sung. When his dungeon light looked dim and red On the high-born blood of a martyr slain, No anthem was sung at his lowly death-bed,- No weeping was there when his bosom bled, And his heart was rent in twain. When he strode o'er the wreck of each well-fought field, With the yellow-haired chiefs of his native land; For his lace was not shivered on helmet or shield, And the sword that was fit for archangel to wield Was light in his terrible hand. Yet, bleeding and bound, though the "Wallacewight" For his long-loved country die,, The bugle ne'er sung to a braver night Than William of Elderslie. But the day of his triumphs shall never depart; His head, unemtombed, shall with glory be palmed: From its blood streaming altar his spirit shall start; Though the raven has fed on his mouldering heart, A nobler was never embalmed!