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But a boil that arose from the deep below,

A mounting gurgling column of snow;

It sunk away with a murmuring moan,

The sea is calm, and the sinners are gone.

END OF NIGHT THE THIRD.

CONCLUSION.

CONCLUSION.

FRIEND of the bard! peace to thy heart,

Long hast thou acted generous part,

Long hast thou courteously in pain

Attended to a feeble strain,

While oft abashed has sunk thine eye,Thy task is done, the Wake is bye.

I saw thy fear, I knew it just;
"Twas not for minstrels long in dust,
But for the fond and venturous swain
Who dared to wake their notes again;
Yet oft thine eye has spoke delight,
I marked it well, and blest the sight:

No sour disdain, nor manner cold,
Noted contempt for tales of old;
Oft hast thou at the fancies smiled,
And marvelled at the legends wild.
Thy task is o'er; peace to thy heart!
For thou hast acted generous part.

"Tis said that thirty bards appeared,
That thirty names were registered,
With whom were titled chiefs combined,
But some are lost, and some declined.
Woe's me, that all my mountain lore
Has been unfit to rescue more!

And that my guideless rustic skill
Has told those ancient tales so ill.

The prize harp still hung on the wall ; The bards were warned to leave the hall, Till courtiers gave the judgment true, To whom the splendid prize was due.

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