Page:Buchanshire tragedy, or, Sir James the Ross (3).pdf/7

( 7 ) By this the the valiant Knight awoke,

the virgin's ſhrieks he heard,

And ſo he roſe and drew his ſword,

when the fierce band appear'd.

Your ſword last night my brother ſlew,

His blood yet dims its ſhine,

But ere the riſing of the fun,

your blood ſhall rack on mine.

You word it well the chief reply'd,

but deeds approve the man;

Set by your men, and hand to hand,

well try what valour can.

Oft beating hides a coward's beart,

my weighty ſword you fear,

Which ſhone in front in Flodden field,

when yours kept in the rear,

With dauntleſs ſteps he forward ſtrode,

and dar'd him to the fight

The Graeme gave back, he fear'd his arm,

for well he knew it's might.

Four of his men' the braveſt four,

ſunk down beneath his ſword,

But ſtill he ſcored this baſe revenge,

and fought their haughty lord.

Behind him baſely came the Graeme,

and wound him in the ſide:

Oat ſpouting came the purple tide,

and all his tartans dy'd.

But of his ſword ne'er quite the grip

Nor dropt he to the ground,

Tule rough his te wys heart his ſteel

had forc'd a motral wound: