8
Till through his enemy's heart the steel
Had forced a mortal wound.
Graeme, like a tree by wind o'erthrown,
Fell breathless on the clay!
And down beside him sank the Rose,
And faint and dying lay.
Matilda saw, and fast she ran;
O spare his life she cried;
Lord Buchan's daughter begs his life,
Let her not be denied.
Her well known voice the hero heard,
He rais'd his death—clos'd eyes:
He fix'd them on the weeping maid,
And weakly thus replies:
In vain Matilda begs a life,
By death's arrest denied;
My race is run—adicu my love;
Then clos'd his eyes and died.
The sword yet warm from his left side,
With frantic hand she drew;
I come, Sir James the Rose, she cried,
I come to follow.
The hilt she lean'd against the ground,
And bar'd her snowy breast;
Then fell upon her lover's face,
And sunk to endless rest.
FINIS.
