Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/263

 THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. 247

His monarch's heart, oft steeped in tears, He from his neck unhound,

And flung it toward the battle front,

And cried, with panting breath, " Pass first, my liege, as thou wert wont,

I follow thee to death." Stern Osmyn's sword was dire that day,

And keen the Moorish dart, And there Earl Douglas bleeding lay

Beside the Bruce 's heart.

Embalmed with Scotland's flowing tears,

That peerless champion fell, And still the lyre, to future years,

His glorious deeds shall tell. The " good Lord James," that honoured name,

Each Scottish babe shall call, And all who love the Bnice's fame

Shall mourn the Douglas' fall.

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