Page:Excellent popular ballad.pdf/7

7 "Where sleeps the Ross?" began the Græme,
 * "Or has the felon fled?

This hand shall lay the wretch on earth
 * By whom my brother bled."

And now the valiant knight awoke,
 * The virgin shrieking heard:

Straight up he rose, and drew his sword,
 * When the fierce band appeared.

"Your sword last night my brother slew,
 * His blood yet dims its shine:

And, ere the sun shall gild the morn,
 * Your blood shall reek on mine."

"Your words are brave," the chief return'd.
 * "But deeds approve the man;

Set by your men, and hand to hand,
 * We'll try what valour can."

With dauntless step he forward strode,
 * And dar'd him to the fight:

Then Græme gave back, and fear'd his arm,
 * For well he knew his might.

Four of his men, the bravest four,
 * Sunk down beneath his sword;

But still he scorn'd the poor revenge,
 * And sought their haughty lord.

Behind him basely came the Græme,
 * And pierc'd him in the side:

Out spouting came the purple stream,
 * And all his tartans dy'd.

But yet his hand not dropp'd the sword,
 * Nor sunk he to the ground,