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CANTO VI. FINGAL. 135
He bar'd his bosom — there were spread
The deep'ned seams of many a war.
" These marks of honorable strife,"
He said, " and these grey hairs behold —
Shall scourges close a warrior's life ?
My sov'reign, let it not be told.
Not that Rerth values pain ; but shame
Is new to him who fought for fame.
This hand for fifty years did bear
The spear thro' many a dreadful field,
And now shall ignominy tear
The honors from a soldier's shield ?
My king, know'st thou not Ronnar's name ?
It is not boastingly I tell,
In thy last war my Ronnar fell.
Did not my boy the spear arrest
Destin'd for thee ? — It pierc'd his breast. —
I wept not, for he had his fame,"

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