7
Matilda stood without the gate,
Upon a rising ground—
And watch'd each object in the dawn,
All ear to every sound.
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 now 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 dims its shine;
And e'er 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 his 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 Græme,
And pierced him in the side;
