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

4 I spoke to try thy love, she said;

I'll ne'er wed man but thee:

My grave shall be my bridal bed,

E'er Grahame 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 forth his sword he drew,

(For Donald's blade before his breast

Had pierc'd his tartans thro';)

'Tis for my brother's slighted love,

His wrong sit on my arm;

Three paces back the youth retir'd,

To save himself frae harm.

Returning swift, his hand he rear'd

frae Donald's head above,

And thro' the brains and crashing bones

His sharp-edged weapon drove!

He stagger'd, reel'd, then tumbled down,

A lump of breathless clay!

So all my foes, quo' valiant Ross,

And stately strode away.

Thro' the green wood be quickly hy'd,

Unto Lord Buchan's hall,

And at Matilda's window stood,

And thus began to call: