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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Death of Sir James, Lord of Douglas</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;Men may weill wyt, thouch nane thaim tell,<br>How angry for sorow, and how fell,<br>Is to tyne sic a Lord as he<br>To thaim that war off hys mengye.’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">- Barbour's Bruce, B. XX. i. 507.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Where rich Seville's proud turrets rise<br>A foreign ship at anchor lies;<br>The pennons, floating in the air,<br>Proclaim that one of rank is there-—<br>The Douglas, with a gallant band<br>Of warriors, seeks the Holy Land. <br>But wherefore now the trumpet's bray,<br>The clang of arms and war’s array,<br>The atabal and martial drum?<br>The Moor—the infidel is come;<br>And there is Sultan Osmyn—see!<br>With all his Paynim chivalry;<br>And they have sworn to glut their steel<br>With the best blood of fair Castile.<br>&quot;And do we here inactive stand?&quot;<br>The Douglas cries; &quot;Land! comrades, land!&quot;<br>Then for the Christian camp he makes,<br>When thus Alphonso silence breaks:<br>&quot;What news from Scotland do you bring;<br>And where is now your patriot king?&quot;<br>&quot;Alas! within this casket lies<br>The heart so valiant, good, and wise,<br>This to the Holy Land we bear,<br>For we have sworn to lay it there.<br>But let us forward to the fight,<br>And God protect the Christian right!&quot;<br>To whom Alphonso—&quot;Scottish lord,<br>That now for Spain cost draw that sword,<br>The terror of thy English foes,<br>When for her freedom Scotland rose;<br>With knights like thee and thy brave band<br>We’ll drive the Moslem from the land.&quot;<br>The Douglas thus his comrades cheers—<br>&quot;Be brave! and as for him that fears,<br>Let the base coward turn and fly,<br>For we will gain the day, or die.<br>Now couch the trusty Scottish spear,<br>And think King Robert’s heart is here,<br>And boldly charge—already, see<br>The dogs of Moslems turn and flee.&quot;<br>At the first onset, with the slain<br>Those valiant warriors strew the plain;<br>But, hark! the Allah Hu! the foes<br>Rally, and hot the combat grows,<br>For here the Spaniards yield, and there<br>The Moors have slain the brave St. Clair.<br>Then, midst the thickest of his foes,<br>The precious casket Douglas throws—<br>&quot;Pass on before us&quot; hear him cry,<br>&quot;For I will follow thee, or die.&quot;<br>He rushes on—but all in vain,<br>For thicker comes the arrowy rain;<br>And now, by multitudes opprest,<br>With many a wound upon his breast,<br>Where ’midst the slain the casket lies,<br>A noble death the Douglas dies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Clerk+Maxwell">James Clerk Maxwell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415780" data-title="The Death of Sir James, Lord of Douglas de James Clerk Maxwell" data-description="&quot;Men may weill wyt, thouch nane thaim tell,
How angry for sorow, and how fell,
Is to tyne sic a Lord as he
To thaim that war off hys mengye.’

- Barbour's Bruce, B. XX. i. 507.


Where rich Seville's proud turrets rise
A foreign ship at anc..."></div>
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