"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 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 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!'

"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 earth
The relics of her dead."

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!"

And aye we sail'd, and aye we sail'd,
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.

"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 Africa
To spoil and waste and slay,
And Pedro, King of Arragon,
Must fight with them to-day."

"There is not one of all my knights

But bears as true a spear—
Then onwards! Scottish gentlemen,
And think-King Robert's here!"

The trumpets blew, the cross-bolts flew,
The arrows flash'd like flame,
As spur in side, and spear in rest,
Against the foe we came.

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.

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 St Clair is down,
We may not leave him here!"

But thicker, thicker, grew the swarm,
And sharper shot the rain,

And the horses rear'd amid the press,
But they would not charge again.

"Now Jesu help thee," said Lord James,
"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,

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 were 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?"