While trembling for her lover's fate,
At distance stood the maid—
Swift ran the page o'er hill and dale ;
Till in a lowly glen
He met the furious Sir John Graeme,
With twenty of his men.
Where goest thou, little page, he said,
So late, who did thee send?
I go to raise the brave Clan Rose,
Their master to defend.
For he has slain fierce Donald Graeme,
His blood is on his sword,
And far, far distant are his men;
Nor can assist their lord-
And has he slain my brother dear?
The furious chief replies;
Dishonour blast my name, but he,
By me ere morning dies.
Say page, where is Sir James the Rose ?
I will thee well reward—
He sleeps into lord Buchan's park;
Matilda is his guard.
They spurr'd their steeds and furious flew,
Like lightning o'er the lea:
They reached lord Buchan's lofty tow'rs,
By dawning of the day.
Matilda stood without the gate,
Upon a rising ground,
And watch d each object in the (illegible text)
All (illegible text) to ev'ry sound.
