Page:Buchanshire tragedy, or, Sir James the Ross (1).pdf/4

 Then claſp'd her to his beating breaſt, faſt locked her into his arms: I ſpake to try thy love ſhe ſaid, I'll ne'er wed man but thee; My grave ſhall by my bridal bed, e'er Graeme my huſband be.

Take then, dear youth, this faithful kiſs. in witneſs of my troth And every plague become my lot, that day I break my oath. They parted thus the ſun was ſet, up haſty Donald flies, And turn thee, turn thee, beardleſs youth, he loud inſulting cries.

Soon turn'd about the fearleſs chief, and ſoon his ſword he drew, For Donald's blade before his breaſt had pierc'd his tartans through. This for my brother's ſlighted love, his wrongs ſit on my arm: Three paces back the youth retir'd, to ſave himſelf from harm.

Returning ſwift his hand he rear'd from Donald's head above, And through the brains and craſhing bones his ſharp edg'd weapon drove. He ſtagger'd, reel'd, then tumbled down a lump of breathleſs clay; So fall my foes quoth valiant Roſs, and ſtately ſtrode away.