(3)
Where on a bank beside a burn,
a blooming faugh-tree ſtood.
Conceal'd among the underwood,
the craſty Donald lay,
The brother of Sir John the Graeme,
to hear what they might lay.
When thus the maid began: 'My sire
'your paſſion diſapproves,
'And bids me wed Sir John the Graeme,
'ſo here muſt end our loves.
'My father's will muſt he obey'd,
'nought boots me to withſtand ;
'Some fairer maid in beauty's bloom
'ſhall bleſs thee with her hand.
'Matilda ſoon ſhall be forgot,
'and from thy mind defacd;
'But may that happineſs be thine
'which I can never taſte'
'What do I hear! Is this thy vow?
Sir James the Roſs replied,
'And will Matilda wed the Græme,
'though ſworn to be my bride :
'His ſword ſhall ſooner pierce my heart,
'than reave me of thy charms;'
Then claſp'd her to his beating breaſt,
faſt lockt into his arms
'I ſpeak to try thy love, ſhe ſaid,
'I'll ne'er wed mac but thee;
'My grave ſhall be my bridal bed,
