(Clear as ice was the lady’s fame,
A flawless jewel indeed!)
Duncan the king at Colmkill sleeps,
So sound he will not turn or moan;
His slumber-draught was deep, I ween,
Bitter-spiced with daggers keen.
It is the Red Macbeth that keeps
Stern state upon the throne,
With Gruach, his kind queen.
(“Most kind,” the old King Duncan said,