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478 THE POEMS OF OSSIAN.
She rests at the side of Conlath! Come not to my
dreams, O Conlath I Thou hast received thy fame.
Be thy voice far distant from my hall ; that sleep
may descend at night. O that I could forget ray
friends : till my footsteps should cease to be seen !
till I come among them with joy ! and lay my aged
limbs in the narrow house !

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