A new revolt now broke out in Scotland (S219). The patriot, William
Wallace, rose and led his countrymen against the English,--led them
with that impetuous valor which breathes in Burns's lines:
"Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled."
Fate, however, was against him. After eight years of desperate
fighting, the valiant soldier was captured, executed on Tower Hill in
London as a traitor, and his head, crowned in mockery with a wreath of
laurel, was set on a pike on London Bridge.
But though the hero who perished on the scaffold could not prevent his
country from becoming one day a part of England, he did hinder its
becoming so on unfair and tyrannical terms. "Scotland," says Carlyle,
"is not Ireland. No; because brave men arose there, and said,
`Behold, ye must not tread us down like slaves,--and ye shall
not,--and ye cannot!'" But Ireland failed, not for any lack of brave
men, but for lack of unity among them.