Uncloyed until she gorges all the world. No other need has Rome. Poor, desolate, Shrouded with mists, with cold empanoplied, At war among ourselves, fighting with beasts, We yet are freemen; and we need not Rome: We are the only freemen in the world. Here, in the very bosom of our land-- The last land in the world--we meet the power That rules all other lands but ours. Even here Let Rome be stricken. Brothers, countrymen, Freedom has taken refuge in our hills. She has a home upon the streaming seas, But loves the land where men are hers. Let not The word go forth on woeful-sounding winds That Rome has driven freedom from the earth: Sprite you with lions' hearts; like baleful stars Inflame your eyes that their disastrous glance May palsy foes afar; pour your whole strength In every blow, nor fear a drought: the power Of each is great as all when all are one. Rush like a torrent; crash like rocks that fall When thunder rends the Grampians. Liberty! Cry 'Liberty!' and shatter Rome." The Scots were worthy of their gallant chief, And fought as if they loved death, courting her By daring her to opportunities; Which she--a maid o'er-wooed--resented oft, And strained their cooler rivals to her breast; But discipline--that rock that bears the world, Compactly built--a city on a cliff Breaking disorder back like unknit waves-- Founded the Roman power; and on its front The Scots beat, shivered by their own onset; And evening saw them ebb, calmed, vanquished, spent. Yet that lost battle was a gain: our hills, That battle, and the ruin of her fleet, Held Rome behind Grahame's dyke, and kept us Scots. All south of us the Romans, Saxons, Danes, And Normans, conquering in turn, o'erthrew From change to change; but we are what we were Before Aeneas came to Italy, Free Scots; and though this great Plantagenet Seems now triumphant, we will break his power. Shall we not, comrades? 1st Soldier. Yes, your Majesty. 2nd Soldier. But might it not have been a benefit If Rome had conquered Scotland too, and made Between the Orkneys and the Channel Isles One nation? Bruce. A subtle question, soldier; But profitless, requiring fate unwound. It might be well were all the world at peace, One commonwealth, or governed by one king; It might be paradise; but on the earth You will not find a race so provident As to be slaves to benefit their heirs. 1st Soldier. At least we will not. Bruce. By St. Andrew, no! Enter Nigel Bruce.