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CANTO II. FINGAL. 61
Who may the dews of pity shed ?
Fain would thy accuser's sorrows flow —
They must not. High priest, we appear
Beseeching vengeance, vengeance dread.
A virgin of the sun her vow,
Sworn at the sacred shrine of heaven,
Foully hath broken. Low we bow.
Priest of the gods, be judgment given.'
" Who stains with blot, who clouds with shame,
The brightness of heav'n's holy shrine,
Oh priestess, to the death by flame
Heav'n's awful judgment doth consign;
The perjur'd dies; but of her guilt,
Until reveal'd, th'. accomplice stand
What fiery tempest shall be spilt
In vengeance o'er the afliicted land.
Hath she yet spoken ? In her breast
Still doth the guilty secret rest ?'

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