Page:Tragedy of Sir James the Rose (4).pdf/6

 While trembling for her lover's fate,

At distance stood the maid—

Swrift ran the page o'er hill and dale;

Till in a lowly glen.

He met the furious Sir John Graeme,

With twenty of his men.

Where goest thou little page he said,

So late who did thee send?

I go to raise the brave Clan Rose,

Their master to defend.

For he has slain fierce Donald Graeme,

His blood is on his sword,

And far, far distant are his men;

Ner 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 Rose?

I will thee well reward—

He sleeps into lord Buchan's park;

Matida is his guard.

They spurr’d their steeds and furious flow,

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 down,

All ear to every sound.