A SCOT TO JEANNE D\'ARC
Dark Lily without blame, Not upon us the shame, Whose sires were to
the Auld Alliance true, They, by the Maiden\'s side, Victorious fought and
died, One stood by thee that fiery torment through, Till the White Dove
from thy pure lips had passed, And thou wert with thine own St. Catherine
at the last.
Once only didst thou see In artist\'s imagery, Thine own face painted,
and that precious thing Was in an Archer\'s hand From the leal Northern
land. Alas, what price would not thy people bring To win that portrait of
the ruinous Gulf of devouring years that hide the Maid from us!
Born of a lowly line, Noteless as once was thine, One of that name I
would were kin to me, Who, in the Scottish Guard Won this for his reward,
To fight for France, and memory of thee: Not upon us, dark Lily without
blame, Not on the North may fall the shadow of that shame.