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(183)
THE WORDS OF WOE. r;;
fall, couldft thou behold them. The mighty-
have fallen by the arm of death : The fword"
of afflidllon has pierced my heart. My tears-
bathe not the memory of the feeble. Grace
and greatnefs were in the ileps of him whofe
fall I mourn. He who was high among fur-
rounding chiefs, is now the humble tenant of
the peaceful grave. In vain I fearch for my
hunter among his rocks and his woods: In vaiii
J raife my voice among the hills of his chace.
Echo anfwers ;, but he is Glent. His dogs alio
purfue his former footlleps ; but they retura
without him. Early in the morning they vi-
fit the chambers of his fleep ; but he is not
there — I cannot eafe your grief, faithful fons
of fwiftnefs I but I will join your mourning.
My tears will be feen : Your moans will be
heard. The ftranger as he paflxth will afk.
the caufe. The tongue of information will
anfwer, ' Becaufe the mighty are low ;' — Be-
caufe the chief of Afcar is lonely in the gloomy
tomb, his wife and hi:)unds niourn his falL
Ail day they (bun the light : The windows of
the hall are fhut. No open door is there to-
lecslve the traveller as he pafTedi j otherwlie
ths:

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