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TEMORA. 395
Bright and silent is its progress aloft, but the cloud,
that shall hide it, is near! The sword of Artho was
in the hand of the king. He looked with joy on its
polished studs: thrice he attempted to draw it, and
thrice he failed ; his yellow locks are spread on his
shoulders! his cheeks of youth are red. I mourned
over the beam of youth, for he was soon to set!"
" Althan I" he said with a smile, " didst thou be-
hold my father? Heavy is the sword of the king;
surely his arm was strong. O that I were like him
in battle, when the rage of his wrath arose ! then
would I have met with CuthuUin, the car-borne son
of Cantela! But years may come on, O Althan I
and my arm be strong. Hast thou heard of Semo's
son, the ruler of high Temora ? He might have re-
turned with his fame. He promised to return to-
night. My bards wait him with songs. Myfeastis
spread in the hall of kings."
I heard Cormac in silence. My tears began to
flow. I hid them with my aged locks. The king
perceived mj- grief. " Son of Conachar !" he said,
" is the son of Semo low ? Why bursts the sigh in
secret? Why descends the tear? Comes the car-
borne Torlath ? Comes the sound of red-haired
Cairbar? They come! for I behold thy grief. Mossy
Tura's chief is low! Shall I not rush to battle ? But
I cannot lift the spear! O had mine arm the strength
of CuthuUin, soon would Cairbar fly ; the fame of
my fathers would be renewed; and the deeds of
other times!"
He took his bow. The tears flow down, from both
his sparkling eyes. Grief saddens round. The bards
bend forward, from their hundred harps. The lone
blast touched their trembling strings. The sound*
is sad and low! A voice is heard at a distance, as
of one in grief. It was Carril of other times, who
came froin dark Slimora. He told of the fall of
CuthuUin. He told of his mighty deeds. The peo-
ple were scattered round his tomb. Their arms lay
• That prophetic sound, mentioned in other
poems, which the harps of the bards emitted before
the death of a person worthy and renowned.

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