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334 CO L N A-D O N A.
Stranger of tales, said Toscar, hast thou marked the warrior's
course ? He must fall ; give thou that bossy shield ! In wrath
he took the shield. Fair behind it heaved the breasts of a maid,
white as the.bosom of a swan, rising on swift-rolling waves. It
was Colna-dona of harps, the daughter of the king. Her blue
eyes had rolled on Toscar, and her love arose.
THE

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