THE TRUMPETS 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 Saracen | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| 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 blade | 15 |
| 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!” | 20 |
| |
| 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, | 25 |
| “Thou kind and true St. 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, | 30 |
| 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, | 35 |
| 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. | 40 |
| |
| “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, | 45 |
| “And leave the dead to me, | |
| For I must keep the dreariest watch | |
| That ever I shall dree! | |
| |
| “There lies, beside his master’s heart, | |
| The Douglas, stark and grim; | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| 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!” | 60 |
| |
| We bore the good Lord James away, | |
| And the priceless heart he bore, | |
| And heavily we steer’d our ship | |
| Towards the Scottish shore. | |
| |
| No welcome greeted our return, | 65 |
| 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; | 70 |
| And woeful men were we that day— | |
| God grant their souls repose! | |
| |
