6
For he hath slain fierce Donald Grahame,
His blood is on his sword;
And far, far distant are his men,
For to assist their Lord.
And has he slain my brother dear?
the furious Grahame replies:
Dishonour blast my name, but he,
By me, e'er morning, dies.
Tell me where is Sir James the Ross,
I will thee well reward:
He sleeps into Lord Buchan's park,
Matilda is his guard.
They spur'd their steeds in furious mood,
And scour'd along the ley,
They reached Lord Buchan's lofty tow'rs
By dawning of the day.
Matilda stood without the gate,
To whom thus Grahame did say,
Saw ye Sir James the Ross last night,
Or did he pass this way?
Last day at noon, Matilda said,
Sir James the Ross pass'd by,
He furiously prick'd his weary steed,
And onward fast did hye:
By this time he's at Edinburgh,
If horse and man hold good.
Your Page then lied, who said He was
Now sleeping in the wood.
She wrung her hands and tore her hair,
Brave Ross, thou art betray'd!
And ruin'd by the means she cri'd,
From whence I hop'a thine aid.
