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CARRIC-THURA. 221
Streamy Lotha ! I will remember them with tears, and
my secret song shall rise ; when the wind is in the
groves of Tora, when the stream is roaring near.
Then shall they, come on my soul, with all their lovely
grief!
Three days feasted the kings : on the fourth their
white sails arose. The winds of the north drove Fin-
gal to Morven's woody land. But the spirit of Loda
sat in his cloud behind the ships of Frothal. He hung
forward with all his blasts, and spread the white-bo-
somed sails. The wounds of his form were not for-
gotten ! he still feared the hand of the king !
19*

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