The hero hailed the sign!
And on the wished-for beam hung fast That slender, silken line; Slight as it was, his spirit caught The more than omen, for his thought The lesson well could trace, Which even "he who runs may read,"
That Perseverance gains its meed, And Patience wins the race.
THE HEART OF BRUCE
_By_ WILLIAM L. AYTOUN
It was upon an April morn, While yet the frost lay hoar, We heard Lord James's bugle horn Sound by the rocky shore.
Then down we went, a hundred knights, All in our dark array, And flung our armor in the ships That rode within the bay.
We spoke not as the shore grew less, But gazed in silence back, Where the long billows swept away The foam behind our track.
And aye the purple hues decayed Upon the fading hill, And but one heart in all that ship Was tranquil, cold, and still.
The good Lord Douglas paced the deck, And O, 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 soul I fain would tell to thee.
"Thou know'st the words King Robert spoke Upon his dying day: How he bade take his noble heart And carry it far away;
"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 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 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 pledge From this our Scottish land?
"'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!"
[Illustration: I SAW A PILGRIM STAND]
And aye 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 watchtower'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 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 aside From the Cross in jeopardie!
"Have down, have down, my merry men 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!
"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 heart Across the weltering wave.
To lay it in the holy soil Hard by the Saviour's grave.
"True pilgrims we, by land and 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 honored 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 thine In all the host of Spain!"
The Douglas turned towards us then, O, but his glance was high!-- "There is not one of all my men But is as bold as I.
"There is not one of my knights But bears as true a spear,-- Then onward, Scottish gentlemen, And think King Robert's here!"
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 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!