diverm vagantes. He was popular with students and faculty andrnstarted writing one section of a major international coininentarvrnon Homer’s Odyssey. On October 24, 1973, he was foundrndead at his desk, with a copy of Homer open in front of him.rnHe was a constitutionalist, a federalist, and a nationalist in anrnage of power politics, imperialism, and international finance.rn1 le locd the languages and customs of the smaller nations ofrnEurope—Serbia, Greece, Scotland—in an age when Germany,rnBritain, and the United States either ignored or trampled them.rnThe SNP has won seats in the British Parliament and has crippledrnthe Conservative Party in Scotland. Poetry is still writtenrnin I .allans, though many would agree with Edwin Muir, “theyrnnever seemed to me to be very gifted, except for Grieve” (HughrnMacDiarmid). In the latest Scots anthology from Edinburgh,rnDouglas’s name does not appear. His edition of Theognis isrnstill in print and his articles are quoted. Fracnkcl hated him,rnbut Otto Skutsch, another refugee from Hitler who becamernLatin Professor at London, always beamed when Douglas’srnname was mentioned. Scholars came from all over the world tornvisit hiiu at Chapel Hill, where he had time to direct only tworndissertations before his untimely death, on the manuscripts ofrnAeschylus and Sophocles, the latter written by me, the formerrnby Dr. Thomas Fleming.rnDouglas spent his 60 years fighting for lost causes: thernrestoration of the Scottish nation and its literature and the textsrnof ancient Greek poets. In his essay on Francis Herbert Bradley,rnT.S. Eliot wrote, “We fight for lost causes because we know thatrnour defeat and dismay may be the preface to our successor’srnvictory, though that victory itself will be temporary; we fightrnrather to keep something alive than in the expectation that anythingrnwill triumph.” Douglas’s best-known poem, which hernused to hear quoted back to him on the hustings and at thernmarket, contains his vision of what one man can accomplish. Itrnis called “Last Lauch” (Last Laugh).rnThe Minister said it wald dee,rnthe cypress-buss I plantit.rnBut the buss grew til a tree,rnnacthing dauntit.rnIt’s growan, stark and heich,rnderk and staucht and sinister,rnKirkyairdie-like and dreich,…rnBut whaur’s the Minister?rnLast Laugh: The Student’s Replyrnby Thomas FlemingrnThe minister is dead and gone,rnhere only his dust reposes.rnAshes and dust were all he won,rnand a bed for roses.rnHe did not plant his hope in earth,rnthough man will never know it;rnHis death was but a second birthrnand a last laugh on the poet.rnNOVEMBER 1995/31rnrnrn