Lays and Ballads from Ancient History etc. By S. M. [i.e. M. B. Smedley] |
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| 2. | LAY THE SECOND.
THE BRUCE'S HEART. |
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 | Lays and Ballads from Ancient History |  |
LAY THE SECOND. THE BRUCE'S HEART.
It was Lord James of Douglas
Set sail across the brine,
With a warrior band, to seek the land
Of holy Palestine.
Stately and gay was his bold array,
With plume and pennon streaming,
With the sounding horn at break of day,
With clustered lances gleaming.
Set sail across the brine,
With a warrior band, to seek the land
Of holy Palestine.
Stately and gay was his bold array,
With plume and pennon streaming,
With the sounding horn at break of day,
With clustered lances gleaming.
A nobler knight than the good Lord James,
In sooth, is seldom seen:
His words, though few, were straight and true
As his sword so bright and keen;
Dark was his cheek, and dark his eye,
But lit with a fiery glow,
And his form of lofty majesty
Beseemed a king, I trow.
In sooth, is seldom seen:
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As his sword so bright and keen;
Dark was his cheek, and dark his eye,
But lit with a fiery glow,
And his form of lofty majesty
Beseemed a king, I trow.
Beneath his vest a silver case,
At a string of silk and gold,
For ever lay, by night and day
Upon his bosom bold;
That casket none must hope to win
By force or fraudful art,
For priceless was the wealth within—
It held the Bruce's heart!
At a string of silk and gold,
For ever lay, by night and day
Upon his bosom bold;
That casket none must hope to win
By force or fraudful art,
For priceless was the wealth within—
It held the Bruce's heart!
In far Dunfermline's towers he lay
In honoured sleep, and there
Had loyal Douglas kneel'd to pay
His vows, and lift his prayer,
When stole along the steeps and glades
The noiseless tread of Night,
And Moonshine with her massy shades
And cold clear lines of light.
In honoured sleep, and there
Had loyal Douglas kneel'd to pay
His vows, and lift his prayer,
When stole along the steeps and glades
The noiseless tread of Night,
And Moonshine with her massy shades
And cold clear lines of light.
And there he laid upon his breast
The heart of the mighty dead,—
Sign that his monarch's last behest
Should be accomplishèd.
That solemn hour, that awful scene,
Bare witness to his vow;
And soon the waves of ocean green
Danced round his daring prow.
The heart of the mighty dead,—
Sign that his monarch's last behest
Should be accomplishèd.
That solemn hour, that awful scene,
Bare witness to his vow;
And soon the waves of ocean green
Danced round his daring prow.
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Lord James hath landed in fair Castile,—
Where, waiting by the sea,
Alphonso of Spain with a glittering train
Hath welcomed him royally:
But woe was in that lovely land;
For, from Granada's towers,
Dark Osmyn's fierce and ruthless band
Ravaged its myrtle bowers.
Where, waiting by the sea,
Alphonso of Spain with a glittering train
Hath welcomed him royally:
But woe was in that lovely land;
For, from Granada's towers,
Dark Osmyn's fierce and ruthless band
Ravaged its myrtle bowers.
The Douglas gazed on the leafy shore,
He gazed on the ocean blue,
And the swarthy light in his eye grew bright,
And his gleaming sword he drew:
“Wert thou at my side, my king,” he cried,
“Thy voice's well-known sounds
Would bid me aid these Christian knights
To chase these Paynim hounds!”
He gazed on the ocean blue,
And the swarthy light in his eye grew bright,
And his gleaming sword he drew:
“Wert thou at my side, my king,” he cried,
“Thy voice's well-known sounds
Would bid me aid these Christian knights
To chase these Paynim hounds!”
Then joy went forth through all the land;
And hurrying thousands came
To see the chief whose valorous hand
Had won him deathless fame.
There stood a knight on the monarch's right
Well proved in bloody wars,
His face, I trow, from chin to brow,
Was seamed with ghastly scars.
And hurrying thousands came
To see the chief whose valorous hand
Had won him deathless fame.
There stood a knight on the monarch's right
Well proved in bloody wars,
His face, I trow, from chin to brow,
Was seamed with ghastly scars.
“Lord Douglas, thou hast been,” quoth he,
“In battles from thy youth;
Good faith, I marvel much to see
Thy manly face so smooth.”
“I thank my God,” the Douglas said,
“Whose favour and whose grace
These hands have ever strengthenèd
Thus to protect my face.”
“In battles from thy youth;
Good faith, I marvel much to see
Thy manly face so smooth.”
“I thank my God,” the Douglas said,
“Whose favour and whose grace
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Thus to protect my face.”
But the clarion's thrilling note was heard,—
And, loosing each his rein,
Their fiery steeds the warriors spurred
Down to the battle-plain;
So swiftly on their way they went,
So brightly their mail was flashing,
That they might seem a mountain-stream
O'er the edge of a tall cliff dashing.
And, loosing each his rein,
Their fiery steeds the warriors spurred
Down to the battle-plain;
So swiftly on their way they went,
So brightly their mail was flashing,
That they might seem a mountain-stream
O'er the edge of a tall cliff dashing.
In full noonday, the fair array
Of turban'd Moslems shone,
Like a cluster strange of gorgeous flowers
Of form and clime unknown;
But when his arm each lifted, swinging
His keen and twisted blade,
It was like a glittering snake upspringing
Out of the flower's soft shade.
Of turban'd Moslems shone,
Like a cluster strange of gorgeous flowers
Of form and clime unknown;
But when his arm each lifted, swinging
His keen and twisted blade,
It was like a glittering snake upspringing
Out of the flower's soft shade.
Lord Douglas looked on the crescent proud,
And his Christian heart beat high:
“Charge, countrymen!” he shouted loud
“For God and Scotland, I!”
Oh, never did eagle on its prey
Dart with a feller swoop
Than bounded the angry Scots that day
On the Saracen's startled troop!
And his Christian heart beat high:
“Charge, countrymen!” he shouted loud
“For God and Scotland, I!”
Oh, never did eagle on its prey
Dart with a feller swoop
Than bounded the angry Scots that day
On the Saracen's startled troop!
Like hunted tigers o'er the plain
The Moors they are flying fast —
Like huntsmen true the Scots pursue
With shout and clarion blast:
But track the tiger to his lair.
And the tiger turns to spring—
Brave hearts, beware; for still despair
Is a feared and powerful thing!
The Moors they are flying fast —
Like huntsmen true the Scots pursue
With shout and clarion blast:
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And the tiger turns to spring—
Brave hearts, beware; for still despair
Is a feared and powerful thing!
The Moors have wheeled on that fatal field,
They gather and they stand,
And the wild long yell of “Allah hu!”
Is heard on every hand;
They are circling about their daring foes
In a grim and narrowing bound,
As the walls of a burning jungle close
The awe-struck traveller round.
They gather and they stand,
And the wild long yell of “Allah hu!”
Is heard on every hand;
They are circling about their daring foes
In a grim and narrowing bound,
As the walls of a burning jungle close
The awe-struck traveller round.
The foremost there fell brave St. Clair—
That saw the Douglas bold,
And did unloose the heart of Bruce
From its string of silk and gold;
He hurled it through the serried spears,
And his lifted voice rang high—
“Pass to the front, as thou wert wont!
I follow thee, or die!”
That saw the Douglas bold,
And did unloose the heart of Bruce
From its string of silk and gold;
He hurled it through the serried spears,
And his lifted voice rang high—
“Pass to the front, as thou wert wont!
I follow thee, or die!”
The day hath closed on fair Castile,
The sinking sun gleams red
On shattered plumes and broken steel,
And piles of gallant dead;
In the centre of that bloody field
Lord Douglas lay in death,—
Above him was his own good shield,
And the Bruce's heart beneath!
The sinking sun gleams red
On shattered plumes and broken steel,
And piles of gallant dead;
In the centre of that bloody field
Lord Douglas lay in death,—
Above him was his own good shield,
And the Bruce's heart beneath!
No tears for him! In Honour's light,
As he had lived, he fell.
Good night, thou dauntless soul, good night,
For sure thou sleepest well!
Full hearts and reverent hands had those
Who bare thee on thy bier
Back to the place of thy repose—
Thy Scotland, famed and dear!
As he had lived, he fell.
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For sure thou sleepest well!
Full hearts and reverent hands had those
Who bare thee on thy bier
Back to the place of thy repose—
Thy Scotland, famed and dear!
A valiant knight the casket bore:
And for that honoured part,
His scutcheon wore for evermore
A padlock and a heart.
They buried the Douglas in St. Bride;
And the heart of Bruce they laid
In Melrose stately aisles, beside
The altar's sacred shade.
And for that honoured part,
His scutcheon wore for evermore
A padlock and a heart.
They buried the Douglas in St. Bride;
And the heart of Bruce they laid
In Melrose stately aisles, beside
The altar's sacred shade.
Not mine, with hand profane, to trace
Grey Melrose towers around,—
There is a Presence in the place,
Making it holy ground.
Strewing their snows on that fair spot,
May countless years succeed,
But they sever not the name of Scott
From Melrose and from Tweed!
Grey Melrose towers around,—
There is a Presence in the place,
Making it holy ground.
Strewing their snows on that fair spot,
May countless years succeed,
But they sever not the name of Scott
From Melrose and from Tweed!
| Lays and Ballads from Ancient History | |