Page:Old Scots tragical song of Sir James the Rose (3).pdf/7

 Where sleeps the Rose? 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 appear'd.

Your sword last night my brother slew,

His blood yet dims its shine;

And e'er 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;

The Græme gave back: he feared 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 dyed.

But yet his hand dropped not the sword,

Nor sunk he to the ground,