Page:Old Scots tragical song of Sir James the Rose (3).pdf/2



OF all the Scottish northern chiefs,

Of high and warlike name,

The bravest was Sir James the Rose,

A knight of meikle fame.

His growth was like a youthful oak

That crowns the mountain's brow,

And waving o'er his shoulders broad,

His locks of yellow flew.

Wide were his fields, his herds were large,

And large his flocks of sheep.

And numerous were his goats and deer,

Upon the mountain's steep.

The chieftain of the good clan Rose,

A firm and warlike band,

Five hundred warriors drew the sword

Beneath his high command.

In bloody fight thrice had he stood,

Against the English keen,

Ere two and twenty op'ning springs

The blooming youth had seen.

The fair Matilda dear he lov'd,

A maid of beauty rare;

Even Margaret on the Scottish throne

Was never half so fair.

Long had he woo'd, long she refused,

With seeming scorn and pride;

Yet oft her eyes confess'd the love

Her fearful words denied.