Murders > Tragedy of Sir James the Ross

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Tilt thro’ his CR’my’s Iteart his steel
Had forc’d a mortal wound
Graeme, like^a tree by wind o’erthrowu,
Fell breathless ou the clay;
And down beside him sunk the Ross,
And faint and dying lay.
Matilda saw, and fast she ran:
0 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 eves;
He fix’d them on the weepi ig maid,
Anu weakly thus replies.
In vain Matilda begs a life
By'death’s arrest deny’d;
My race is run—adieu my love,
1 hen clos’d his eyes and dy d.
The sword, yet warm, from his left side,
With frantic hand she drew:
J come, Sir James the Ross, she cry’d,
1 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 restr
FIN! S.
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