Page:Excellent popular ballad.pdf/6

6 While, trembling for her lover's fate,
 * At distance stood the maid.—

Swift ran the page o'er hill and dale,
 * Till, in a lowly glen,

He met the furious Sir John Græme,
 * With twenty of his man.

"Where goest thou, little page?" he said;
 * "So late who did thee send?"—

"I go to raise the base Clan Ross,
 * Their master to defend:

For he has slain fierce Donald Græme,
 * His blood is on his sword;

And far, far distant are his men,
 * Nor can assist their lord."—

"And has he slain my brother dear?"
 * The furious chief replies;

"Dishonour, blast my name, but he
 * By me ere morning dies.

"Say, page where is Sir James the Ross?
 * I will thee well reward."—

"He sleeps into Lord Buchan's park;
 * Matilda is his guard."

They spurr'd their steeds, and furious flew
 * Like lightning o'er the lea:

They reach'd Lord Buchan's lofty tow'rs
 * By dawning of the day."

Matilda stood without, the gate,
 * Upon a rising ground,

And watch'd each object in the dawn,
 * All ear to every sound.