Skip to main content

‹‹‹ prev (91)

(93) next ›››

(92)
90 FINGAL. [BookV.
* A pallid corpse in clay-cold earth now sleeps 425
* That once so softly-blushing fair of love !
* But place thyself upon the shady heath,
' And let us hear, O bard, thy tuneful voice,
* Not more delightful is the gale of spring,
* That meets vv-ith trembling sighs the hunter's ear, 430
* When on the hill, amidst his sweet repose,
* He hears, or thinks he hears, celestial airs
* By spirits sung ; and with the music wakes
* In ecstacies, cnraptur'd by the sound.'
END OF BOOK FIFTH.

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence