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My tears, O Rynos are for the dead; my voice, for the inhabitants of the grave. Tall thou art on the hill; fair among the sons of the plain. But thou shalt fall like Morar (1); and the mourner shall fit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more ; thy bow shall lie in the hall, unstrung.
... But when thou didst return from war, how #. was thy brow! Thy face was like the un after rain; like the moon in the filence of night; calm as the breast of the lake when: the loud wind is laid. -
in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar; thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morgan.
Nought answered, but the son (1) of the rock. Armar, my love my love , why tormentest thou me with fear hear, son of Ardnart, hear: it is Daura who calleth thee! Erath the traitor fled laughing to the land. She lifted up her voice, and cried for her brother and her father. Arindal! Armin! none to relieve your Daura.
(1) By the son of the rock the poet means the echoing back of the human voice from a rock. The vulgar were of opinion, that this repetition of sound was made by a spirit within the rock ; and they , on that account, called it mac-talla ; the son who dwells in the rock.
(1) The poet here only means that Erath was bound with leathern thongs.