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A POEM. 23S
* By green Col-amon of the lucid streams,'
The youth reply'd, * bright Colna-dona dwelt.
* She dwelt — but now attended by the son 1 10
* Of the great king, he, that her secret soul
* As through the hall it wander'd, carried off
* Amidst wild deserts is her lonely way.'
* Stranger of tales, hast thou the warrior's course
* Observant mark'd ?' said Toscar. ' He must fall. 115
* To me deliver thou that bossy shield.'
In wrath he took the shield. Behind it fair.
White as the bosom of a plumy swan
Large rising on the swiftly-rolling waves,
A virgin's breasts with matchless heavings rose, 120
'Twas Colna-dona of sweet sounding lyres,
The daughter of the king. He azure eyes
Had roU'd on Toscar, and her love arose.
END OF VOL. II,
J. F«RRALL, Primer, Birmingham.

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