4
But may that happiness be thine,
Which I can never taste!
What do I hear is this thy vow?
Sir James the Rose replied;
And will Matilda wed the Graeme,
Though sworn to be my bride?
His sword shall sooner pierce my heart
Than 'reave me of thy charms;
And clasp'd her to his throbbing breast
Fast lock'd within his arms.
I spoke to try thy love, she said,
I'll ne'er wed man but thee;
The grave shall 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 pierced his tartans through.
This for my brother's slighted love,
His wrongs sit on my arm—
Three paces back the youth retir'd,
And sav'd himself from harm.
