THE HEART OF THE BRUCE
Thegood Lord Douglas paced the deck,And oh, his face was wan!Unlike the flush it used to wearWhen in the battle-van.—“Come hither, come hither, my trusty Knight,Sir Simon of the Lee;There is a freit lies near my soulI fain would tell to thee.“Thou know’st the words King Robert spokeUpon his dying day:How he bade me take his noble HeartAnd carry it far away;“And lay it in the holy soilWhere once the Saviour trod,Since he might not bear the blessed Cross,Nor strike one blow for God.“Last night as in my bed I lay,I dreamed a dreary dream:—Methought I saw a Pilgrim standIn the moonlight’s quivering beam.“His robe was of the azure dye,Snow-white his scattered hairs,And even such a cross he boreAs good Saint Andrew bears.“‘Why go ye forth, Lord James,’ he said,‘With spear and belted brand?Why do you take its dearest pledgeFrom this our Scottish land?“‘The sultry breeze of GalileeCreeps through its groves of palm,The olives on the Holy MountStand glittering in the calm.“‘But ’tis not there that Scotland’s HeartShall rest by God’s decree,Till the great Angel calls the deadTo rise from earth and sea!“‘Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede!That Heart shall pass once moreIn fiery fight against the foe,As it was wont of yore.“‘And it shall pass beneath the Cross,And save King Robert’s vow;But other hands shall bear it back,Not, James of Douglas, thou!’“Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray,Sir Simon of the Lee—For truer friend had never manThan thou hast been to me—“If ne’er upon the Holy Land’Tis mine in life to tread,Bear thou to Scotland’s kindly earthThe relics of her dead.”The tear was in Sir Simon’s eyeAs he wrung the warrior’s hand—“Betide me weal, betide me woe,I’ll hold by thy command.“But if in battle-front, Lord James,’Tis ours once more to ride,Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend,Shall cleave me from thy side!”
Thegood Lord Douglas paced the deck,And oh, his face was wan!Unlike the flush it used to wearWhen in the battle-van.—“Come hither, come hither, my trusty Knight,Sir Simon of the Lee;There is a freit lies near my soulI fain would tell to thee.“Thou know’st the words King Robert spokeUpon his dying day:How he bade me take his noble HeartAnd carry it far away;“And lay it in the holy soilWhere once the Saviour trod,Since he might not bear the blessed Cross,Nor strike one blow for God.“Last night as in my bed I lay,I dreamed a dreary dream:—Methought I saw a Pilgrim standIn the moonlight’s quivering beam.“His robe was of the azure dye,Snow-white his scattered hairs,And even such a cross he boreAs good Saint Andrew bears.“‘Why go ye forth, Lord James,’ he said,‘With spear and belted brand?Why do you take its dearest pledgeFrom this our Scottish land?“‘The sultry breeze of GalileeCreeps through its groves of palm,The olives on the Holy MountStand glittering in the calm.“‘But ’tis not there that Scotland’s HeartShall rest by God’s decree,Till the great Angel calls the deadTo rise from earth and sea!“‘Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede!That Heart shall pass once moreIn fiery fight against the foe,As it was wont of yore.“‘And it shall pass beneath the Cross,And save King Robert’s vow;But other hands shall bear it back,Not, James of Douglas, thou!’“Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray,Sir Simon of the Lee—For truer friend had never manThan thou hast been to me—“If ne’er upon the Holy Land’Tis mine in life to tread,Bear thou to Scotland’s kindly earthThe relics of her dead.”The tear was in Sir Simon’s eyeAs he wrung the warrior’s hand—“Betide me weal, betide me woe,I’ll hold by thy command.“But if in battle-front, Lord James,’Tis ours once more to ride,Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend,Shall cleave me from thy side!”
Thegood Lord Douglas paced the deck,And oh, his face was wan!Unlike the flush it used to wearWhen in the battle-van.—
Thegood Lord Douglas paced the deck,
And oh, his face was wan!
Unlike the flush it used to wear
When in the battle-van.—
“Come hither, come hither, my trusty Knight,Sir Simon of the Lee;There is a freit lies near my soulI fain would tell to thee.
“Come hither, come hither, my trusty Knight,
Sir Simon of the Lee;
There is a freit lies near my soul
I fain would tell to thee.
“Thou know’st the words King Robert spokeUpon his dying day:How he bade me take his noble HeartAnd carry it far away;
“Thou know’st the words King Robert spoke
Upon his dying day:
How he bade me take his noble Heart
And carry it far away;
“And lay it in the holy soilWhere once the Saviour trod,Since he might not bear the blessed Cross,Nor strike one blow for God.
“And lay it in the holy soil
Where once the Saviour trod,
Since he might not bear the blessed Cross,
Nor strike one blow for God.
“Last night as in my bed I lay,I dreamed a dreary dream:—Methought I saw a Pilgrim standIn the moonlight’s quivering beam.
“Last night as in my bed I lay,
I dreamed a dreary dream:—
Methought I saw a Pilgrim stand
In the moonlight’s quivering beam.
“His robe was of the azure dye,Snow-white his scattered hairs,And even such a cross he boreAs good Saint Andrew bears.
“His robe was of the azure dye,
Snow-white his scattered hairs,
And even such a cross he bore
As good Saint Andrew bears.
“‘Why go ye forth, Lord James,’ he said,‘With spear and belted brand?Why do you take its dearest pledgeFrom this our Scottish land?
“‘Why go ye forth, Lord James,’ he said,
‘With spear and belted brand?
Why do you take its dearest pledge
From this our Scottish land?
“‘The sultry breeze of GalileeCreeps through its groves of palm,The olives on the Holy MountStand glittering in the calm.
“‘The sultry breeze of Galilee
Creeps through its groves of palm,
The olives on the Holy Mount
Stand glittering in the calm.
“‘But ’tis not there that Scotland’s HeartShall rest by God’s decree,Till the great Angel calls the deadTo rise from earth and sea!
“‘But ’tis not there that Scotland’s Heart
Shall rest by God’s decree,
Till the great Angel calls the dead
To rise from earth and sea!
“‘Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede!That Heart shall pass once moreIn fiery fight against the foe,As it was wont of yore.
“‘Lord James of Douglas, mark my rede!
That Heart shall pass once more
In fiery fight against the foe,
As it was wont of yore.
“‘And it shall pass beneath the Cross,And save King Robert’s vow;But other hands shall bear it back,Not, James of Douglas, thou!’
“‘And it shall pass beneath the Cross,
And save King Robert’s vow;
But other hands shall bear it back,
Not, James of Douglas, thou!’
“Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray,Sir Simon of the Lee—For truer friend had never manThan thou hast been to me—
“Now, by thy knightly faith, I pray,
Sir Simon of the Lee—
For truer friend had never man
Than thou hast been to me—
“If ne’er upon the Holy Land’Tis mine in life to tread,Bear thou to Scotland’s kindly earthThe relics of her dead.”
“If ne’er upon the Holy Land
’Tis mine in life to tread,
Bear thou to Scotland’s kindly earth
The relics of her dead.”
The tear was in Sir Simon’s eyeAs he wrung the warrior’s hand—“Betide me weal, betide me woe,I’ll hold by thy command.
The tear was in Sir Simon’s eye
As he wrung the warrior’s hand—
“Betide me weal, betide me woe,
I’ll hold by thy command.
“But if in battle-front, Lord James,’Tis ours once more to ride,Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend,Shall cleave me from thy side!”
“But if in battle-front, Lord James,
’Tis ours once more to ride,
Nor force of man, nor craft of fiend,
Shall cleave me from thy side!”
Andaye we sailed and aye we sailed,Across the weary sea,Until one morn the coast of SpainRose grimly on our lee.And as we rounded to the port,Beneath the watch-tower’s wall,We heard the clash of the atabals,And the trumpet’s wavering call.“Why sounds yon Eastern music hereSo wantonly and long,And whose the crowd of armed menThat round yon standard throng?”“The Moors have come from AfricaTo spoil and waste and slay,And King Alonzo of CastileMust fight with them to-day.”“Now shame it were,” cried good Lord James,“Shall never be said of me,That I and mine have turned asideFrom the Cross in jeopardie!“Have down, have down, my merrymen all—Have down unto the plain;We’ll let the Scottish lion looseWithin the fields of Spain!”“Now welcome to me, noble Lord,Thou and thy stalwart power;Dear is the sight of a Christian Knight,Who comes in such an hour!“Is it for bond or faith you come,Or yet for golden fee?Or bring ye France’s lilies here,Or the flower of Burgundie?”“God greet thee well, thou valiant King,Thee and thy belted peers—Sir James of Douglas am I called,And these are Scottish spears.“We do not fight for bond or plight,Nor yet for golden fee;But for the sake of our blessed Lord,Who died upon the tree.“We bring our great King Robert’s HeartAcross the weltering wave,To lay it in the holy soilHard by the Saviour’s grave.“True Pilgrims we, by land or sea,Where danger bars the way;And therefore are we here, Lord King,To ride with thee this day!”The King has bent his stately head,And the tears were in his eyne—“God’s blessing on thee, noble Knight,For this brave thought of thine!“I know thy name full well, Lord James;And honoured may I be,That those who fought beside the BruceShould fight this day for me!“Take thou the leading of the van,And charge the Moors amain;There is not such a lance as thineIn all the host of Spain!”The Douglas turned towards us then,Oh, but his glance was high!—“There is not one of all my menBut is as bold as I.“There is not one of all my KnightsBut bears as true a spear—Then onwards, Scottish gentlemen,And think King Robert’s here!”
Andaye we sailed and aye we sailed,Across the weary sea,Until one morn the coast of SpainRose grimly on our lee.And as we rounded to the port,Beneath the watch-tower’s wall,We heard the clash of the atabals,And the trumpet’s wavering call.“Why sounds yon Eastern music hereSo wantonly and long,And whose the crowd of armed menThat round yon standard throng?”“The Moors have come from AfricaTo spoil and waste and slay,And King Alonzo of CastileMust fight with them to-day.”“Now shame it were,” cried good Lord James,“Shall never be said of me,That I and mine have turned asideFrom the Cross in jeopardie!“Have down, have down, my merrymen all—Have down unto the plain;We’ll let the Scottish lion looseWithin the fields of Spain!”“Now welcome to me, noble Lord,Thou and thy stalwart power;Dear is the sight of a Christian Knight,Who comes in such an hour!“Is it for bond or faith you come,Or yet for golden fee?Or bring ye France’s lilies here,Or the flower of Burgundie?”“God greet thee well, thou valiant King,Thee and thy belted peers—Sir James of Douglas am I called,And these are Scottish spears.“We do not fight for bond or plight,Nor yet for golden fee;But for the sake of our blessed Lord,Who died upon the tree.“We bring our great King Robert’s HeartAcross the weltering wave,To lay it in the holy soilHard by the Saviour’s grave.“True Pilgrims we, by land or sea,Where danger bars the way;And therefore are we here, Lord King,To ride with thee this day!”The King has bent his stately head,And the tears were in his eyne—“God’s blessing on thee, noble Knight,For this brave thought of thine!“I know thy name full well, Lord James;And honoured may I be,That those who fought beside the BruceShould fight this day for me!“Take thou the leading of the van,And charge the Moors amain;There is not such a lance as thineIn all the host of Spain!”The Douglas turned towards us then,Oh, but his glance was high!—“There is not one of all my menBut is as bold as I.“There is not one of all my KnightsBut bears as true a spear—Then onwards, Scottish gentlemen,And think King Robert’s here!”
Andaye we sailed and aye we sailed,Across the weary sea,Until one morn the coast of SpainRose grimly on our lee.
Andaye we sailed and aye we sailed,
Across the weary sea,
Until one morn the coast of Spain
Rose grimly on our lee.
And as we rounded to the port,Beneath the watch-tower’s wall,We heard the clash of the atabals,And the trumpet’s wavering call.
And as we rounded to the port,
Beneath the watch-tower’s wall,
We heard the clash of the atabals,
And the trumpet’s wavering call.
“Why sounds yon Eastern music hereSo wantonly and long,And whose the crowd of armed menThat round yon standard throng?”
“Why sounds yon Eastern music here
So wantonly and long,
And whose the crowd of armed men
That round yon standard throng?”
“The Moors have come from AfricaTo spoil and waste and slay,And King Alonzo of CastileMust fight with them to-day.”
“The Moors have come from Africa
To spoil and waste and slay,
And King Alonzo of Castile
Must fight with them to-day.”
“Now shame it were,” cried good Lord James,“Shall never be said of me,That I and mine have turned asideFrom the Cross in jeopardie!
“Now shame it were,” cried good Lord James,
“Shall never be said of me,
That I and mine have turned aside
From the Cross in jeopardie!
“Have down, have down, my merrymen all—Have down unto the plain;We’ll let the Scottish lion looseWithin the fields of Spain!”
“Have down, have down, my merrymen all—
Have down unto the plain;
We’ll let the Scottish lion loose
Within the fields of Spain!”
“Now welcome to me, noble Lord,Thou and thy stalwart power;Dear is the sight of a Christian Knight,Who comes in such an hour!
“Now welcome to me, noble Lord,
Thou and thy stalwart power;
Dear is the sight of a Christian Knight,
Who comes in such an hour!
“Is it for bond or faith you come,Or yet for golden fee?Or bring ye France’s lilies here,Or the flower of Burgundie?”
“Is it for bond or faith you come,
Or yet for golden fee?
Or bring ye France’s lilies here,
Or the flower of Burgundie?”
“God greet thee well, thou valiant King,Thee and thy belted peers—Sir James of Douglas am I called,And these are Scottish spears.
“God greet thee well, thou valiant King,
Thee and thy belted peers—
Sir James of Douglas am I called,
And these are Scottish spears.
“We do not fight for bond or plight,Nor yet for golden fee;But for the sake of our blessed Lord,Who died upon the tree.
“We do not fight for bond or plight,
Nor yet for golden fee;
But for the sake of our blessed Lord,
Who died upon the tree.
“We bring our great King Robert’s HeartAcross the weltering wave,To lay it in the holy soilHard by the Saviour’s grave.
“We bring our great King Robert’s Heart
Across the weltering wave,
To lay it in the holy soil
Hard by the Saviour’s grave.
“True Pilgrims we, by land or sea,Where danger bars the way;And therefore are we here, Lord King,To ride with thee this day!”
“True Pilgrims we, by land or sea,
Where danger bars the way;
And therefore are we here, Lord King,
To ride with thee this day!”
The King has bent his stately head,And the tears were in his eyne—“God’s blessing on thee, noble Knight,For this brave thought of thine!
The King has bent his stately head,
And the tears were in his eyne—
“God’s blessing on thee, noble Knight,
For this brave thought of thine!
“I know thy name full well, Lord James;And honoured may I be,That those who fought beside the BruceShould fight this day for me!
“I know thy name full well, Lord James;
And honoured may I be,
That those who fought beside the Bruce
Should fight this day for me!
“Take thou the leading of the van,And charge the Moors amain;There is not such a lance as thineIn all the host of Spain!”
“Take thou the leading of the van,
And charge the Moors amain;
There is not such a lance as thine
In all the host of Spain!”
The Douglas turned towards us then,Oh, but his glance was high!—“There is not one of all my menBut is as bold as I.
The Douglas turned towards us then,
Oh, but his glance was high!—
“There is not one of all my men
But is as bold as I.
“There is not one of all my KnightsBut bears as true a spear—Then onwards, Scottish gentlemen,And think King Robert’s here!”
“There is not one of all my Knights
But bears as true a spear—
Then onwards, Scottish gentlemen,
And think King Robert’s here!”
Thetrumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew,The arrows flashed like flame,As spur in side, and spear in rest,Against the foe we came.And many a bearded SaracenWent down, both horse and man;For through their ranks we rode like corn,So furiously we ran!But in behind our path they closed,Though fain to let us through,For they were forty thousand men,And we were wondrous few.We might not see a lance’s length,So dense was their array,But the long fell sweep of the Scottish bladeStill held them hard at bay.“Make in! make in!” Lord Douglas cried—“Make in, my brethren dear!Sir William of Saint Clair is down;We may not leave him here!”But thicker, thicker grew the swarm,And sharper shot the rain,And the horses reared amid the press,But they would not charge again.“Now Jesu help thee,” said Lord James,“Thou kind and true Saint Clair!An’ if I may not bring thee off,I’ll die beside thee there!”Then in his stirrups up he stood,So lionlike and bold,And held the precious Heart aloftAll in its case of gold.He flung it from him, far ahead,And never spake he more,But—“Pass thee first, thou dauntless Heart,As thou wert wont of yore!”The roar of fight rose fiercer yet,And heavier still the stour,Till the spears of Spain came shivering in,And swept away the Moor.“Now praised be God, the day is won!They fly o’er flood and fell—Why dost thou draw the rein so hard,Good Knight, that fought so well?”“Oh, ride ye on, Lord King!” he said,“And leave the dead to me,For I must keep the dreariest watchThat ever I shall dree!“There lies, above his master’s Heart,The Douglas, stark and grim;And woe is me I should be here,Not side by side with him!”The King he lighted from his horse,He flung his brand away,And took the Douglas by the hand,So stately as he lay.“God give thee rest, thou valiant soul!That fought so well for Spain;I’d rather half my land were gone,So thou wert here again!”We bore the good Lord James away,And the priceless Heart we bore,And heavily we steered our shipTowards the Scottish shore.No welcome greeted our return,Nor clang of martial tread,But all were dumb and hushed as deathBefore the mighty dead.We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk,The Heart in fair Melrose;And woeful men were we that day—God grant their souls repose!
Thetrumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew,The arrows flashed like flame,As spur in side, and spear in rest,Against the foe we came.And many a bearded SaracenWent down, both horse and man;For through their ranks we rode like corn,So furiously we ran!But in behind our path they closed,Though fain to let us through,For they were forty thousand men,And we were wondrous few.We might not see a lance’s length,So dense was their array,But the long fell sweep of the Scottish bladeStill held them hard at bay.“Make in! make in!” Lord Douglas cried—“Make in, my brethren dear!Sir William of Saint Clair is down;We may not leave him here!”But thicker, thicker grew the swarm,And sharper shot the rain,And the horses reared amid the press,But they would not charge again.“Now Jesu help thee,” said Lord James,“Thou kind and true Saint Clair!An’ if I may not bring thee off,I’ll die beside thee there!”Then in his stirrups up he stood,So lionlike and bold,And held the precious Heart aloftAll in its case of gold.He flung it from him, far ahead,And never spake he more,But—“Pass thee first, thou dauntless Heart,As thou wert wont of yore!”The roar of fight rose fiercer yet,And heavier still the stour,Till the spears of Spain came shivering in,And swept away the Moor.“Now praised be God, the day is won!They fly o’er flood and fell—Why dost thou draw the rein so hard,Good Knight, that fought so well?”“Oh, ride ye on, Lord King!” he said,“And leave the dead to me,For I must keep the dreariest watchThat ever I shall dree!“There lies, above his master’s Heart,The Douglas, stark and grim;And woe is me I should be here,Not side by side with him!”The King he lighted from his horse,He flung his brand away,And took the Douglas by the hand,So stately as he lay.“God give thee rest, thou valiant soul!That fought so well for Spain;I’d rather half my land were gone,So thou wert here again!”We bore the good Lord James away,And the priceless Heart we bore,And heavily we steered our shipTowards the Scottish shore.No welcome greeted our return,Nor clang of martial tread,But all were dumb and hushed as deathBefore the mighty dead.We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk,The Heart in fair Melrose;And woeful men were we that day—God grant their souls repose!
Thetrumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew,The arrows flashed like flame,As spur in side, and spear in rest,Against the foe we came.
Thetrumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew,
The arrows flashed like flame,
As spur in side, and spear in rest,
Against the foe we came.
And many a bearded SaracenWent down, both horse and man;For through their ranks we rode like corn,So furiously we ran!
And many a bearded Saracen
Went down, both horse and man;
For through their ranks we rode like corn,
So furiously we ran!
But in behind our path they closed,Though fain to let us through,For they were forty thousand men,And we were wondrous few.
But in behind our path they closed,
Though fain to let us through,
For they were forty thousand men,
And we were wondrous few.
We might not see a lance’s length,So dense was their array,But the long fell sweep of the Scottish bladeStill held them hard at bay.
We might not see a lance’s length,
So dense was their array,
But the long fell sweep of the Scottish blade
Still held them hard at bay.
“Make in! make in!” Lord Douglas cried—“Make in, my brethren dear!Sir William of Saint Clair is down;We may not leave him here!”
“Make in! make in!” Lord Douglas cried—
“Make in, my brethren dear!
Sir William of Saint Clair is down;
We may not leave him here!”
But thicker, thicker grew the swarm,And sharper shot the rain,And the horses reared amid the press,But they would not charge again.
But thicker, thicker grew the swarm,
And sharper shot the rain,
And the horses reared amid the press,
But they would not charge again.
“Now Jesu help thee,” said Lord James,“Thou kind and true Saint Clair!An’ if I may not bring thee off,I’ll die beside thee there!”
“Now Jesu help thee,” said Lord James,
“Thou kind and true Saint Clair!
An’ if I may not bring thee off,
I’ll die beside thee there!”
Then in his stirrups up he stood,So lionlike and bold,And held the precious Heart aloftAll in its case of gold.
Then in his stirrups up he stood,
So lionlike and bold,
And held the precious Heart aloft
All in its case of gold.
He flung it from him, far ahead,And never spake he more,But—“Pass thee first, thou dauntless Heart,As thou wert wont of yore!”
He flung it from him, far ahead,
And never spake he more,
But—“Pass thee first, thou dauntless Heart,
As thou wert wont of yore!”
The roar of fight rose fiercer yet,And heavier still the stour,Till the spears of Spain came shivering in,And swept away the Moor.
The roar of fight rose fiercer yet,
And heavier still the stour,
Till the spears of Spain came shivering in,
And swept away the Moor.
“Now praised be God, the day is won!They fly o’er flood and fell—Why dost thou draw the rein so hard,Good Knight, that fought so well?”
“Now praised be God, the day is won!
They fly o’er flood and fell—
Why dost thou draw the rein so hard,
Good Knight, that fought so well?”
“Oh, ride ye on, Lord King!” he said,“And leave the dead to me,For I must keep the dreariest watchThat ever I shall dree!
“Oh, ride ye on, Lord King!” he said,
“And leave the dead to me,
For I must keep the dreariest watch
That ever I shall dree!
“There lies, above his master’s Heart,The Douglas, stark and grim;And woe is me I should be here,Not side by side with him!”
“There lies, above his master’s Heart,
The Douglas, stark and grim;
And woe is me I should be here,
Not side by side with him!”
The King he lighted from his horse,He flung his brand away,And took the Douglas by the hand,So stately as he lay.
The King he lighted from his horse,
He flung his brand away,
And took the Douglas by the hand,
So stately as he lay.
“God give thee rest, thou valiant soul!That fought so well for Spain;I’d rather half my land were gone,So thou wert here again!”
“God give thee rest, thou valiant soul!
That fought so well for Spain;
I’d rather half my land were gone,
So thou wert here again!”
We bore the good Lord James away,And the priceless Heart we bore,And heavily we steered our shipTowards the Scottish shore.
We bore the good Lord James away,
And the priceless Heart we bore,
And heavily we steered our ship
Towards the Scottish shore.
No welcome greeted our return,Nor clang of martial tread,But all were dumb and hushed as deathBefore the mighty dead.
No welcome greeted our return,
Nor clang of martial tread,
But all were dumb and hushed as death
Before the mighty dead.
We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk,The Heart in fair Melrose;And woeful men were we that day—God grant their souls repose!
We laid our chief in Douglas Kirk,
The Heart in fair Melrose;
And woeful men were we that day—
God grant their souls repose!
William Edmondstoune Aytoun. (Condensed)