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as the moon in autumn, as the fun in. a summer-storm ? — She speaks: but how weak her voice! like the breeze in the reeds of the pool. Hark!

Ret Urn Est thou safe from the war?. Where are thy friends, my love? I. heard of thy death on the hill; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric!

Yes, my fair, I return; but I alone. of my race. Thou shalt see them no more: their graves I raised on the plain., But why art thou on the desert hill? why on the heath, alone?

Alone lam, O Shilric! alone in the winterrhouse. With grief for thee I expired. Shilric, I am pale in the tomb.

She fleets, she sails away; as grey mist before the wind!—and, wilt thou

not

-not stay, my love? Stay and behold my tears? fair thou appearest, my love'. fair thou waft, when alive!

By the mossy fountain I will sit; on the top of the hill of winds. When mid-day is silent around, converse, O «any love, with me! come on the wings of the gale! on the blast of the mountain, come! Let me hear thy voice, as thou passest, when mid-day is silent ajround.

IIL

"cvening is grey on the hills. The north wind resounds through the woods. White clouds rise on the sky: the trembling show descends. The river howls afar, along its winding course. Sad, by a hollow rock, the grey-hair'd Carry! sat. Dry fern waves over his head; his seat is in an aged birch. Clear to the roaring winds he lifts his voice of woe.

Tossed on the wavy-ocean is He, the hope of the isles; Malcolm, the support of the poor; foe to the proud in arms! Why hast thou left us behind? why live we to mourn thy fate? We might have heard, with thee, the voice of the deep; have seen the oozy rock.

Sad on the sea-beat shore thy spouse looketh for thy return. The time of

thy

thy promise is come; the night is gathering around. Bur. no white fail is on the sea; no voice is heard except the blustering winds. Low is the foul of the war! Wet are the locksofyouth! By the Foot of some rock thou liest; washed by the waves as they come. "Why, ye winds,. did ye bear him on the desert rock? Why,. ye waves, did: ye roll over him?

But, OhT what voice is thaP Who rides on that meteor. of fire! Greens are his airy limbs. It is he! it is the ghost of Malcolm !—Rest, lovely foul,. rest on the rock; and let me hear thy voice!—He is gone, like a dream of the night. I fee him through the treesDaughter of Reynold! he is.gone. Thy spouse shall return no. more. No. more shall his hounds come from the hill, forerunners of their master. No< more from the distant rock. shall his. C voice

voice greet thine ear. Silent is he in the deep, unhappy daughter of Reynold!

I will sit by the stream of the plain. Ye rocks! hang over my head. Hear my voice, ye trees! as ye bend on the shaggy hill. My voice shall preserve the praise of him,- the hope of the isles.

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