with critical observations and biographical notices, by Robert Burns

80
What ! shall our hearts of steel, he said,
Bend to a woman's sang ?
Or can her words our honour quit,
For sic dishonest wrang ?
For this did a' these warriors come,
To hear an idle tale ?
And o'er our death-accustomed arms
Shall silly tears prevail ?
They gied a shout, their bows they tuik,
They clash 'd their steely swords
Like the loud waves of Barra's shore,
There was nae room for words.
A cry the weeping Mary gied,
O uncle hear my prayer
Heidna that man of bluidy look.
She had na time for mair.
;
— ;
For in the midst anon there came,
A blind unweeting dart.
That glanc'd frae aff her Duncan's targe,
And strack her to the heart.