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A tale, indeed, Most dismal, strange, and sudden.

How she died God knows; but much I fear foul play she had. Where is the Lord of Lorne? for first to him I wish to speak.

Come, I will lead thee to him.—Had foul play!

Fell fiends they are could shed her blood! If this Indeed hath been, 'twill make good cause, I wot; The warlike pipe will sound our summons soon. |

And wilt thou leave us then, my noble friend? May we not still for some few days retain thee?

Where'er I go, I carry in my heart A warm remembrance of the friendly home