"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 dream'd 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 scatter'd 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 ye 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!" 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." "Now shame it were," cried good Lord James, "Shall never be said of me, That I and mine have turn'd 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 ye 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 call'd, And these are Scottish spears.