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3^ TEMORA :
king. ' His face darkens between his locks. He
beholds the wide rolling of Erin.
■•• " Does not Carril behold that tomb, befide the
roaring ftream ? Three ftones lift their gray heads,
beneath a bending oak. A king is lowly laid :
give thou his foul to the wind. He is the brother
bf Cathmor ! open his airy hall. Let thy fbng be
a ilrcam of joy to Cairbar's darkened ghoft."
TEMORA :

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