Page:Tragedy of Sir James the Ross.pdf/6

 While trembling for her lover's fate,

At distance stood the maid—

Swift 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, litte page: he said,

So late who did the send?—

I go to raise the brave Clan Ross,

Their master to defend.

For he has slain fierce Donald Graeme,

His blood is on his sword

And far, far stistant are his men:

Nor 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 Ross?

I will thee well reward—

He sleeps into Lord Buchan's park;

Matilda is his guard.—

They spurred their steeds, and furious flew,

Like lightning o'er the sea:

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 dawn,

All ear to every sound.