SCOTTISH BOOKS FOR A RAINY DAY

Blind Harry’s Wallace

By William Hamilton of Gilbertfield
Introduction by Elspeth King and Illustrations by Owain Kirby
Reviewed by Sharma Krauskopf and rated 4 Thistles

Blind Harry's Wallace

Blind Harry’s Wallace has been one of the most popular works of literature and history in Scotland of all time. The Actes and Deidis of the Illustre and Vallyeant Campion Schir William Wallace was written in about 1477 and was one of the first books printed in Scotland, by Chepman and Myllar around 1508. Between then and the Acts of the Union with England in 1707 it went through twenty-three editions.

Blind Harry, or Blin Harry, or Henry the Minstrel is thought to have lived from 1440 - 1493. Little is known about him. His one major achievement was to gather and record in writing stories about Wallace. He sang or recited these stories in verse form, and was well received at the Renaissance court of James IV.

In 1722 Blind Harry’s work was translated and adapted by another poet, William Hamilton of Gilbertfield, and became the most commonly owned book in Scotland next to the Bible.

In 1944 Randall Wallace recreated the story for a 20th century audience in his novel Braveheart and the film of that name, with the lead part played by Mel Gibson took Blind Harry to a global audience.

In January of 1998 a new edition of Blind Harry’s masterpiece became available. When a dear friend gave me copy of the new book autographed by the editor, I was delighted but considered it coffee table book for exhibit. Then one day I picked it up and started to read and became enthralled with the beautiful language as much as the story. This new book has side notes when ever a complicated or out of date word appears and little pictures to indicate significant aspects of the story. For example, if women become involved in the story a little red female figure appears in the margin. With all of these helps reading the book is easy.

I thought the William Wallace of Mel Gibson’s movie was a hero of such grandiose stature no one could out shine him. Blind Harry’s Wallace character seems bigger than the monument built to honor him. Blind Harry never forgets Wallace was human and the man shines out from the pages. The quote I have chosen to share from the book begins touching on Wallace’s humanity but quickly changes to his bravery and leadership. It contains the description of the death of William Wallace’s wife and his reaction to it.

And blended horrors stare before her eyes,
Even in that time, when all should be at rest,
When not one thought should discompose her breast;
Even then she shakes at Hasilrig's fierce hate,
And her soul shrinks, as previous of her fate.
Now fierce with rage the cruel foe draws near;
Oh! does not heaven make innocence its care?
Where fled thy guardian angel in that hour,
And left his charge to the fell tyrants power?
Shall his fierce steel be redden'd with thy gore,
And streaming blood distain thy beauties o'er?

But now, awaken'd with the dreadful sound,
The trembling matron threw her eyes around.
In vain, alas! were all the tears she shed,
When fierce he waves the faulchion o'er her head;
All ties of honour by the rogue abjur'd,
Relentless deep he plung'd the ruthless sword;
Swift o'er her limbs does creeping coldness rise,
And death's pale hand seal'd up her fainting eyes.

Now borne upon the mournful wings of fame,
To Wallace the unhappy tidings came;
The rising woe sore thrill'd in every part,
And sought its painful passage to the heart.
Graham and his mourning friends with tears o'erflow,
And join society of great grief and woe.
When Wallace them beheld, he hush'd in peace,
And kindly bade their growing sorrows cease.
"This waste of tears, alas!" he cried, "is vain,
Nor can recall the fleeting shade again;
Could that vain thought afford the least relief,
How would I mourn! but impotent is grief.
Then let those tears, to war's rough toil give way,
And the fierce sword perform what words would say.
Hear me, brave Graham, companion of my arms,
Whose soul alike is fired with glory's charms;
To thee I swear, this sword I'll never sheath,
Till I revenge my dearest, dearest's death.
Heavens! what new toils of death and war remain!
Rivers of floating blood, and hills of slain!
But steel'd with rage, to slaughter let us fly,
And for her sake there shall ten thousand die.

When men thus weep, their courage grows the less;
It slacks the ire of wrong they should redress.
But let us haste while yet the dusky night
Extends her friendly shade and drowns the infant light."
He said; the melancholy troops around,
With pleasing anguish catch the mournful sound.
A fierce revenge bends ev'ry warrior's bow,
For now the armed warriors careful tread,
And march undaunted through the mirky shade:
No light in the high firmament was seen,
And like their vengeance low'ring was the scene;
To Lanark swift they shape the destin'd way,
The town defenceless, all before them lay.
Opprest with sleep, the weary English lie,
Nor knew, sad wretches! that their death drew nigh.

Now in two bands, they part their hostile force,
And to their sleeping tyrants bend their course;
Where Hasilrig, the cruel murd'rer lay,
Eager on slaughter, Wallace wings his way;
A thousand ills the traitor's mind infest,
And warring furies combat in his breast;
There slaughter, rage, rapine together roll,
And guilt sits heavy on his dreadful soul.
Full on the gate a stone the Hero threw:
Swift to the stroke the rocky fragment flew.
Bars, bolts, and brazen hinges soon were broke,
And tumbl'd down before the sweepy stroke.
Surpris'd he stood, and list'ning to the noise,
With beating heart he heard the warrior's voice:
Anon, beheld the distant beaming lance,
And trembling saw the iniur'd man advance;
"And thought'st thou, traitor," fierce the hero cried,
"When by thy murd'ring steel she cruel died;
When thy fell hand her precious blood did spill.
Wallace though absent, would be absent still?"
Furious he spoke, and rising on the foe,
Full on his head discharg'd the pond'rous blow;
Down sinks the felon headlong to the ground,
The guilty soul flew trembling through the wound.

Blind Harry’s Wallace is not just a book but the essence of Scotland. For everyone who loves Scotland your will find you heart and soul caught in the pages of Harry’s beautiful words. If our rating system allowed it I would give this book five thistles but since it does we will give it four with an added "THIS BOOK IS AN INCREDIBLE EXPERIENCE."

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