8
Till thro' his ca'my's heart his steel
Had forc'd a mortal wound
Graeme, like a free by wind o'erthrowu,
Fell breathless on the clay;
And down beside him sunk the Ross,
And faint and dying lay.
Matilda saw, and fast she ran:
O spare his life, she cry'd;
Lord Buchan's daughtr begs his life
Let her not be deny'd
Her well-known voice the hero heard,
He rais'd his death clos'd eyes;
He fix'd them on the weeping maid,
And weakly thus replies.
In vain Matilda begs a life
By death's arrest deny’d;
My race is run—adieu my love,
Then clos'd his eyes and dyd.
The sword, yet warm, from his left sides
With frantic hand she drew:
I come, Sir James the Ross, she cry'd,
I come to follow you.
The hilt she lean'd against the ground,
And bar'd her snowy breast;
Then fell upon her lover's face,
And sunk to endless rest.
FINIS.
