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46 FINGAL.
In dreary sorrow, wild and chill,
O'er the wide heath the lone wind sigh'd,
And all was dark, and all was still.
E'en the faint pulse of midnight died.
Then spake a voice sepulchral, low,
Deep as the moan of spectral woe :
" Dreadful thy pow'r, oh Innismone,
And terrible thy magic spell j
But oh, that yet had been unknown
The secrets of the grave and hell :
To live is fearful, and to die
Is not then slumb'ringly to lie
In some low, lonely, silent spot,
Forgetting all, by all forgot."
" Thy will hath been obey'd, oh king,
Th' eternal world thou hast beheld,
And the deep horrors dark and dread

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