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in the armour of kings Dark-rolled the eagle's wing above his helmet of fire. Unconcerned are his steps, as if they were to the chace of Atha. He raised, at times, his dreadful voice; Erin , abashed , gathered round.— Their souls returned back, like a stream : they wondered at the steps of their fear : for he rose , like the beam of the morning on a haunted heath: the traveller looks back, with bending eye, on the field of dreadful forms.

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Now they bent forward in battle: death's hundred voices rose; for the kings, on either

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