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I©8 THE E.\^L MAKISCHaL'S WELCOME
O'er ev'ry hill, o'er ev'ry dale V .: .
All by the wii:|ding banks o£ Tay,
Refounds the hunter's chearful peal,
Their armour giitt'ring to the?,5lay.''; )^r. 'i^siri
Big with his joys of youth the old man flood ; ^
Dunnotyr's ruin'd tovv'rs then caught his ^ye ;
He ftopp'd, and hung his head in penfive mood.
And from his bofom burfl th' unbidden, ftgh.
Then turning, with a warrior look,
Shaking his hoary curls, the old mau fpoke :
«« Virtue, O Fortune ! fcorns thy pow'r,
Thou can'ft not bind her for an hour ;
Virtue fliall ever fliine ; -,.»«>-
And endlefs pr?.ife, her rrlorious dow'r* ,,„
Shall blefs her fons divine. , . .^ .,.
The kings of th' earth,, with open arjns,
Th' illuftrious Exiles hail :
See warlike Cyrus, great and wife,
Demand, and follow their advice,
And all his bread unveil.
See, pouring from their hills of fnow,
Nations of favasrcs in arms !
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