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208 THE rOEMS OP OSSIAN.
of the gloomy brow ! the rcd-rolHng eyes of Fidallan !
When shall thy white hand arise ? When shall thy
voice be heard on our rocks ? The maids shall seek
thee on the heath, but they shall not find thee. Thou
shalt come, at times, to their dreams, to settle peace in
their soul. Thy voice shall remain in their ears, they
shall think with joy on the dreams of their rest. Me-
teors gleam around the maid, and moonbeams lift her
soul !

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