Life issued at the wound—he fell
A lump of lifeless clay;
So fall my foes quoth valiant Rose,
And stately strode away.
Through green wood in haste he passed,
Unto Lord Buchan’s hall.
Beneath Matilda’s window stood,
And thus on her did call.
Art thou asleep Matilda dear,
Awake, my love, awake;
Behold thy lover waits without,
A long farewell to take.
For I have slain fierce Donald Graeme,
His blood is on my sword.
And far, far distant, are my men,
Nor can defend their lord.
To Skye I will direct my flight,
Where my brave brothers bide,
And raise the mighty of the Isles,
To combat on my side.—
O do not so, the maid replied.
With me till morning stay;
For dark and dreary is the night,
And dangerous is the way.
All night I’ll watch thee in the park,
My faithful page I’ll send.
In haste to raise the brave clan Rose,
Their Master to defend.
He laid him down beneath a bush,
And wrapp’d him in his plaid,
