4
And will Matilda wed the Græme,
Though sworn to be my bride?
His sword shall sooner pierce my heart,
Tnan 'reave me of thy charms—
And clasp'd her to his throbbing breast;
Fast lock'd within his arms.
1 epoke to try thy lóve, she said,
I'll ne'er wed man but thee;
The grave shail be my bridal bed,
If Græme my husband be.
Take then, dear youth, this faithful kiss,
In witness of my troth,
And every plague become 'my lot,
That day I break my oath—
They parted thus—the sun was set—
Up hasty Donald flies;
And turn thee, turn thee, beardless youth,
He loud insulting cries.
Soon turned about the fearless chief,
And soon his sword he drew;
For Donald's Blade before his breast,
Had pierc'd his tartans through.
This for my brother's slighted love:
His wrongs sit on my arm—
Three paces back the youth retir'd;
And say'd himself from harm.
Returning swift, his sword he rear'd,
Fierce Donald's head above;
And thro' the brain and crashing bone,
The furious weapon drove.
