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 new the valiant knight awoke,
The virgin shrieking heard:
Straight up he rose and drew his sword,
When the fierce band appeared.
Your sword last night my brother slew,
His blood yet dins its shine;
And ere the sun shall gild the morn;
Your blood shall reek on mine.
Your words are brave, the chief returned,
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 dared him to the fight;
The Graeme gave back; he feared his arm,
For well he knew his might.
Four of bis men, the bravest four,
Sunk down beneath his sword;
But still he scorned the poor revenge,
And sought their haughty lord.
Behind him basely came the Graeme,
And pierc'd him in the side;
Out spouting came the purple stream,
And all his tartans dyed.
But yet his hand drooped not the sword,
Nor sunk he to the ground,
