The Giants of Auld
Sons of Alba, rise in defiance of tyranny!
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
Red Lion famed and feared of old On Scotland's battlefield The blazon of her banner fold The 'scutcheon of her shield Meet emblem of her heroes, whom Thou ledd'st to battle forth And ledd'st to triumph, or a tomb Red Lion of the North The warlike Pict, the wandering Dane Oft thou mast made to mourn And sterner glories dyed thy name The blood of Bannockburn! On later fields, in many a clime Hast thou pawed proudly forth Triumphant as of olden time Red Lion of the North The chieftain's cairn, the martyr's grave Where sleep the heroic dead May ne'er the footstep of a slave Profane them with their tread Nor vainly may the future see Our armed hosts go forth Beneath St. Andrew's cross, and thee Red Lion of the North The ancient mind, the ancient might Still may our hills produce To wield the sword of Wallace wight The battle-axe of Bruce! The soul to love the minstrel's lore And prize the patriot's worth The spirit of the years of yore Red Lion of the North High honour unto thine and thee For never shalt thou wave But from the flag-staff of the free The banner of the brave! And by thy glories in the past When Scotland bears thee forth Stand thou for freedom, first and last Red Lion of the North
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
Unflincing foot 'gainst foot was set Unceasing blow by blow was met The groans of those who fell Were drown'd amid the shriller clang That from the blades and harness rang And in the battle-yell Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot And O! amid that waste of life What various motives fired the strife! The aspiring noble bled for fame The patriot for his country's claim This knight his youthful strength to prove And that to win his lady's love Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood From habit some, or hardihood But ruffian stern, and soldier good The noblе and the slave From various cause thе same wild road On the same bloody morning, trode To that dark inn, the grave!
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
Hail, land of my fathers! I stand on thy shore 'Neath the broad-fronted bluffs of thy granite once more Old Scotland, my mother, the rugged, the bare That reared me with breath of the strong mountain air No more shall I roam where soft indolence lies 'Neath the cloudless repose of the featureless skies But where the white mist sweeps the red-furrowed scaur I will fight with the storm and grow strong by thе war! What boots all the blaze of the sky and thе billow Where manhood must rot on inglorious pillow? 'Tis the blossom that blooms from the taint of the grave 'Tis the glitter that gildeth the bonds of the slave But Scotland, stern mother, for struggle and toil Thou trainest thy children on hard, rocky soil And thy stiff-purposed heroes go conquering forth With the strength that is bred by the blasts of the north Hail Scotland, my mother! And welcome the day When again I shall brush the bright dew from the brae And, light as a bird, give my foot to the heather My hand to my staff, and my face to the weather Then climb to the peak where the ptarmigan flies Or stand by the linn where the salmon will rise And vow never more with blind venture to roam From the strong land that bore me, my own Scottish home
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
November's sky is chill and drear November's leaf is red and sear Late, gazing down the steepy linn That hems our little garden in Low in its dark and narrow glen You scare the rivulet might ken So thick the tangled greenwood grew So feeble trill'd the streamlet through Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen Through bush and brier, no longer green An angry brook, it sweeps the glade Brawls over rock and wild cascade And foaming brown with doubled speed Hurries its waters to the Tweed No longer Autumn's glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam Away hath pass'd the heather-bell That bloom'd so rich on Needpathfell Sallow his brow, and russet bare Are now the sister-heights of Yair The sheep, before the pinching heaven To shelter'd dale and down are driven Where yet some faded herbage pines And yet a watery sunbeam shines In meek despondency they eye The wither'd sward and wintry sky And far beneath their summer hill Stray sadly by Glenkinnon's rill The shepherd shifts his mantle's fold And wraps him closer from the cold His dogs no merry circles wheel But shivering follow at his heel A cowering glance they often cast As deeper moans the gathering blast
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
Lady, darkest thou seek the shore Which never woman’s footstep bore Where beneath yon rugged steep Restless rolls the darksome deep Darkest thou though thy blood run chill Thither speed at midnight still And when horror rules the sky Rise for lover lost thy cry Darkest thou at that ghastliest hour Breathe the word of magic power Word that breaks the mermaids spell Which false lover knows too well? When affrighted specters rise Twixt pale floods and ebon skies Darkest thou reft of maiden fear Bid the water witch appear When upon the sallow tide Pearly elfin boat does glide When the mystic oar is heard Like the wing baleful bird Darkest thou with a voice of might Call upon the spell bound knight When the shallop neareth land Darkest thou with the snow white hand Boldly on the warriors breast Place the cross by churchman blest When is done this work of peril Thou hast won proud Ulster’s earl
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
Between the moaning of the mountain stream And the hoarse thunder of the Atlantic deep An outcast from the peaceful realms of sleep I lie, and hear as in a fever-dream The homeless night-wind in the darkness scream And wail around the inaccessible steep Down whose gaunt sides the spectral torrents leap From crag to crag, till almost I could deem The plaided ghosts of buried centuries Were mustering in the glen with bow and spеar And shadowy hounds to hunt the shadowy deer Mix in phantasmal sword-play, or, with eyes Of wrath and pain immortal, wandеr o'er Loved scenes where human footstep comes no more
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
The wintry west extends his blast And hail and rain does blaw Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down And roars frae bank to brae And bird and beast in covert rest And pass the heartless day The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul My griefs it seems to join The leafless tress my fancy please Their fate resembles mine! Thou power supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfill Here firm I rest, they must be best Because they are thy will! Then all I want, o do thou grant This one request of mine! Since to enjoy thou dost deny Assist me to resign
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
Full of grief, the low winds sweep O'er the sorrow-haunted ground Dark the woods where night rains weep Dark the hills that watch around Tell me, can the joys of spring Ever make this sadness flee Make the woods with music ring And the streamlet laugh for glee? When the summer moor is lit With the pale fire of the broom And through green the shadows flit Still shall mirth give place to gloom? Sad shall it be, though sun be shed Golden bright on field and flood E'en the heather's crimson red Holds the memory of blood Here that broken, weary band Met the ruthless foe's array Where those moss-grown boulders stand On that dark and fatal day Like a phantom hope had fled Love to death was all in vain Vain, though heroes' blood was shed And though hearts were broke in twain Many a voice has cursed the name Time has into darkness thrust Cruelty his only fame In forgetfulness and dust Noble dead that sleep below We your valour ne'er forget Soft the heroes' rest who know Hearts like theirs are beating yet
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 24, 2026
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