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98 FINGAL. <
" There was a day, when to be done
Were mystic rites and sacrifice ;
And priests, and virgins of the sun,
The king of their intent advise ;
For they must pass them o'er the wate
To lovely Innis Moina's cave,
And deem'd not, that they to and fro
In safety might unguarded go.
Twice fifty ten-bench'd gallies fair
Two thousand gallow-glasses row ;
The black plum'd helm's terrific glare
Frowns fierce from ev'ry dark'ned prow :
Rang'd in wide crescent they await
The coming of the priestly state.
Now slowly from the sheltered cove
That winds within the sacred grove,
The splendid barges are beheld,
And solemn strains to heav'n have swell'd.
And ev'ry movement of the oar
Sends music to the list'ning shore.

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