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112 The BATTLE ofLORA:
tains thee, hunter of Cona ? for thou didft pro-
mife to return. — Has the deer been diftant far;
and do the dark winds figh round thee, on the
heath ? I am in the land of llrangers, where is my
friend, but Aldo ? Come from thy echoing hills',
my beil: beloved !
Her eyes are turned toward the gate, and flie
liftens to the ruftling blall. She thini^s it is Aldo's
tread, and joy rifes in her face : — but forrow re-
turns again, like a thin cloud on the moon. — And
thou wilt not return, my love? Let me behold
the face of the hill. The moon is in the eafi:.
Calm and bright is the breafl; of the lake ! When
fhall I behold his dogs returning from the chafe ?
When fhall I hear his voice, loud and diftant on
the wind ? come from thy echoing hills, hunter of
woody Cona !
His thin ghofl: appeared, on a rock, like the
watry beam of the moon, when it rulhes from
between two clouds, and the midnight fliower is
on the field. — She followed the empty form over
the heath, for fhe knew that her hero fell. —
1 heard her approaching cries on the wind, like the
mournful voice of the breeze, when it fighs on
the grafs of the cave.
She came, flie found her hero : her voice was
heard no more : filent flie rolled her fad eyes ; fhe
was pale as a watry cloud, that rifes from the
lake, to the beam of the moon.
Few were her days on Cona : flie funk into the
tomb: Fingal commanded his bards; and they
fungover the death of Lorma. The daughters*
of Morven mourned her for one day in the year,
when the dark winds of autumn returned.
Son
* The daughters of Ifrael went yeatlv to lament the
Jaiis^ter of jephthah the Gileadite four days in a year.
Judges xi. 40.

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