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CONLATH AND CUTHONA. 41S
was bloody. She knew that her hero fell. Her sor-
row waa heard on Mora. Art thou pale on thy rock,
Cuthona, beside the fallen chiefs? Night comes, and
day returns, but none appears to raise their tomb.
Thou frightenest the screaming fowls away. Thy
tears for ever flow. Thou art pale as a watry cloud,
that rises from a lake !
The sons of green Selma came. They found Cu-
thona cold. They raised a tomb over the heroes. She
rests at the side of Conlath ! Come not to my dreams,
O Conlath! Thou hast received thy fame. Be thy
voice far distant from my hall ; that sleep may descend
at night. that I could forget my friends ; till my
footsteps should cease to be seen; till I come among
them with joy ! and lay my aged limbs in the narrow
iiouse !

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