This, however, the Scots would not suffer. Freedom they had ever
loved, and freedom they would have. No man, they said, whether
he were chosen King or no, had power to make them thralls of
England.
"Oh! Freedom is a noble thing!
Freedom makes a man to have liking,
Freedom all solace to man gives,
He lives at ease that freely lives.
A noble heart may have no ease,
Nor nothing else that may him please,
If freedom faileth; for free delight
Is desired before all other thing.
Nor he that aye has lived free
May not know well the quality,
The anger, nor the wretched doom
That joined is to foul thraldom."
So sang Barbour, and so the passionate hearts of the Scots cried
through all the wretched years that followed the crowning of John
Balliol. And when at last they had greatest need, a leader arose
to show them the way to freedom. Robert the Bruce, throwing off
his sloth and forgetfulness of his country, became their King and
hero. He was crowned and received the homage of his barons, but
well he knew that was but the beginning.
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