The setting sunWith yellow radiance lighten’d all the vale;And as the warriors moved, each polish’d helm,Corslet or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.The hill they climbed, and halting at its top,Of more than mortal size, towering, they seem’dA host angelic, clad in burning arms.

The setting sunWith yellow radiance lighten’d all the vale;And as the warriors moved, each polish’d helm,Corslet or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.The hill they climbed, and halting at its top,Of more than mortal size, towering, they seem’dA host angelic, clad in burning arms.

– John Home –

Douglas: A Tragedy. by John Home

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