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Of wand'ring child; sounds strange and full of omen.

What! evil omen? storms and hurricanes?

Fy on't! A stirring, tinkling, hopeful sound: The ring of scatter'd largess, sweeter far Than pipe or chord or chant of forest birds: The sound of mummery and merriment: The sound But wherefore stare ye on me thus? List: I will tell ye what concerns us all.

Out with it then! for it concerns us all To be no more tormented with thy folly.

Our Lord Rasinga wills, that we, brave mates, With fifty armed followers and their followers, Shall be in readiness by early dawn, To march in goodly order to the mountains.

I like not mountain warfare.

No, nor I.

To force our toilsome way through thick rank woods,