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mourning for the dead. Bent is his head of age, and red his tearful eye.-Alpin, thou fon of fong, why alone on the filent hill? Why complaineft thou, as a blast in the wood-as a wave on the lonely shore ?
My tears, O Reyno ! are for the dead-my voice for the inhabitants of the grave.-Tall thou art on the hill -fair among the fons of the plain. But thou fhalt fall, like Morar ; and the mourner fhall fit on thy tomb. The hills fhall know thee no more. Thy bow fhall lie in the hall, unftrung.-Thou wert fwift, O Morar! as a roe on the hill- -terrible as a meteor of fire.-Thy
wrath was as the ftorm-thy fword, in battle, as lightning in the field. Thy voice was like a ftream after rain-like thunder on diftant hills. Many fell by thy. arm-they were confumed in the flames of thy wrath.
-But, when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face was like the fun after rainlike the moon in the filence of night-calm as the breast of the lake, when the loud wind is hushed into a calm.
Narrow is thy dwelling now-dark the place of thine abode. With three fteps I compafs thy grave, O thou, who waft so great before! Four ftones, with their heads of mofs. are the only memorial of thee. A tree with fcarce a leaf-long grafs, whiftling in the windmark to the hunter's eye, the grave of the mighty Morar.
-Morar! thou art low indeed: thou haft no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love: dead is she that brought thee forth; fallen is the daughter of Morglan.Who, on his staff, is this? who this, whofe head is white with age, whofe eyes are galled with tears, who quakes at every step It is thy father, O ?; Morar! The father of no fon, but thee.Weep, thou
father of Morar! weep; but thy fon heareth thee not. Deep is the fleep of the dead-low their pillow of duft. No more fha!! he hear thy voice-no more awake at thy call. When fhall it be morn in the grave, to bid the flumberer awake?-Farewell! thou braveft of men; thou conqueror in the field but the field fhall fee thee no more; nor the gloomy wood be lightened with the fplendor of thy fteel.left no fon-but
the fong fhall preserve thy name.
SATAN'S MEETING WITH SIN AND DEATH.
EAN while, the adverfary of God and man,
Maan, with thoughts inflam'd of higheft defign,
Puts on fwift wings, and, towards the gates of hell,
He fcours the right hand coaft; fometimes, the left:
Hell bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof.
Thrice threefold were the gates: three folds were brass ; Three iron; three of adamantine rock :
Impenetrable; impal'd with circling fire;
Yet unconfum'd. Before the gates, there fat,
The one, feem'd woman to the waift, and fair:
Voluminous and vaft; a ferpent, arm'd
(If fhape it might be call'd, that shape had none
Or fubftance might be call'd, that shadow seem'd ;
And shook a dreadful dart. What feem'd his head,
Satan was, now, at hand; and, from his feat,
"WHENCE, and what art thou, execrable shape!
To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass,
Falfe fugitive and, to thy speed, add wings;
Thy ling'ring; or, with one ftroke of this dart,
So fpake the grifly terror; and, in fhape,
Incens'd with indignation, Satan ftood,
So frown'd the might combatants, that hell
Grew darker at their frown.-And, now, great deeds Had been achiev'd, whereof all hell had rung,
Had not the fnaky forcerefs, that fat
Faft by hell-gate, and kept the fatal key,
Against thy father's head? and know'ft for whom
SHE fpake: and thus, to her, Satan return'd.
Me father, and that phantafm call'ft my fon.
To whom thus the portrefs of hell-gate reply'd,
All the hoft of heav'n. Back they recoil'd, afraid
I alfo at which time, this pow'rful key
Into my hand was giv'n, with charge to keep
SHE finish'd, and the fubtle fiend his lore Soon learn'd, now milder; and thus answer'd smooth.