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Book II. F I N G A L. 125
The Sea, divided by his fable Prows,
On either Side in frothy Furrows flows ;
Like Groves in Clouds, his Mafts with many Sailsj
Nod to each Breath of the inconftant Gales.
400 CiithuUin rais'd his eager Hands on high,
And call'd upon the Spirits of the Sky.
Immortal Ghofts, Inhabitants of Air I
Swift from my native Ifle of Mijls repair ;
Diftend his Canvafs with a profp'rows Gale^
405 And urge his rapid Courfe to Inisfail.
Hafte, glorious King of Morven^ hafte to Land !
The Death of Thoufands here awaits thy Hand.
With Joy I view thy long-expe£ted Ships,
With Sails like Clouds, o'erfhading wide the Deeps ;
410 And thou thyfelf, in Arms fuperior bright.
Like a red Pillar of the Fire of Night,
Which

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