Page:Tragedy of Sir James the Rose (2).pdf/4

 And will Matilda wed the Graeme,

Tho' sworn to be my bride!

His sword shall sooner pierce my heart,

Then reave me of thy charms—

And clasp’d her to his throbbing breast,

Fast lock’d within her arms.

I spoke to try thy love, she said,

I'll ne’er wed man but thee.

The grave shall be my bridal bed,

If Graeme my husband be.

Take then, dear youth, this faithful ciss,

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 haisty Donald flies ;

And Turn thee turn thee, beardless youth,

He loud insulting cries.

Soon turn’d about the fearless chief,

And soon his sword he drew;

For Donald's sword before his breast,

Had pierc’d his tartans thro'

This for my brother’s slighted love;

His wrongs sit on my arm—

Three spaces back, the youth retir'd,

And sav’d himself from harm.

Returning swift his sword he rear’d,

Fierce Donald’s head above;

And thro’ the brain and crashing bone,

The furious weapon drove.