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! 49 ]
friends of the dead; but clofe it not-
till I come. My life flieth away like a
dream : why fhould I flay behind I
Here fliall I reft with ray friends by the
ftream of the founding rock. When
night comes on the hill ; when the wind.
is up on the heath ; my ghoft ftiall ftand
hi the wind, and mourn the death of
my friends. The hunter fhall hear
from his booth. He fliall fear, but:
love my voice. For fweet fhall my voice
be for my friends -, for plcafant v/era-
they both to me.
(^

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