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34 FINGAL. canto
Such were the words of Marthon More,
As from Sleigh Connell's height he view'd
The far-left hills, and field of blood ;
Then gloomy cast his eyes around,
Where Tarah's tow'rs, with sunbeams crown'd,
Th' unseemly garb of gladness wore.
Ill to the temper of his mind
Was suited the gay smile of morn,
While, tho' on gem-bright car reclin'd,
He felt within his breast a thorn ;
While in his heart, and in his brain,
Revenge unsated burn'd,
And long-veil'd guilt's deep rankling pain,
In stingful throbs return'd.
When glorying in his prideful hour
The song he never lov'd to hear,
Peace o'er his bosom now to pour
No son of minstrelsy was near.
To him then, with low bended sword,
Spake Innismone's magician lord,

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