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A ship, which near had took its nodding stand,
Fixed with the pitchy haulser to the strand,
Remains of Sueno's fleet, the hero viewed,
And to the mournful warriors spoke aloud :
“ Let those whose actions are enchained by years
Honour the mighty dead with friendly tears;
While we of youth, descending to the main,
Exact severe atonement of the Dane."

He thus: and rushing through the billowy roars,
With brawny arms his rapid journey oars ;
Divides with rolling chest the ridgy sea,
Lashing the bubbling liquid in his way.

The boat he seized, and, meas’ring back the deep,
Wafted his brave companions to the ship;
The haulser broke, unfurled the swelling sail,
And caught the vig'rous spirit of the gale:
Before the sable prow the ocean parts,
And groans beneath the vessel as it darts.

Now on the foe the Scottish warriors gain;
Swells on the approaching eye the floating Dane.
Fierce Ulric's skill brought up the lazy rear,
Famed in the fields of main to urge the war.
Twice seven years, in base pursuit of gain,
He plowed the waves, the common foe of men;
At last to Harold aiding arms he joined ;
Grasping the spoil with avaricious mind.
At first he shoots the leaping shaft afar,
And manages with skill the distant war.
The chiefs of Albion, with collected might,
Bear on the foe, and close the naval fight.
Deck joined to deck, and man engaged with man,
Sword spoke with sword, and Scot transfixed his Dane.
The smoking oak is covered o'er with gore,
Till the whole pirate crew are now no more.
The empty hull from wave to wave is tossed,
Nods as it floats, the sport of every blast.








The Caledonian chiefs again pursue:
The Scandinavian feet o'er ocean flew.
Telude the foe the Danes fly diff'rent ways;
And cut with sep’rate prows the hoary seas.
Some bear to sea, some rush upon the land,
And fly amain on earth, a trembling band.

As, in pursuit of doves, on rapid wings
The darting hawk through air his journey sings ;
But when the parting flock divides the sky,
Hovers, in doubt this way or that to fly,-
So undetermined long young Duffus stood;
At length he sighed, and thus began aloud :
“ While thus, O) chiefs, we urge the flying Dane,
Unmourned, unhonoured lies the mighty slain;
"Tis ours to grace with woe great Indulph's bier,
And o'er his fallen virtue shed the tear."

The warrior spoke: the Caledonians sighed,
And with returning prow the waves divide;
With swelling sail bring on the fatal shore,
Where o'er the dead the aged chiefs deplore.
The warriors bear their monarch as they come,
In sad procession to the silent tomb,
Forsake with lazy steps the sounding main,
And move a sad and lamentable train.

Behind the dead the tuneful bards appear,
And mingle with their elegies the tear;
From their sad hearts the mournful numbers flow
In all the tuneful melody of woe.

In grief's solemnity Culena leads
A mournful train of tear-distilling maids :
Above the rest the beauteous queen appears,
And heightens all her beauties with her tears.

Now in the tomb the godlike Indulph laid,
Shared the dark couch with the illustrious dead :
All o'er his grave the mournful warriors sigh,
And give his dust the tribute of the eye.





Removing, as the night inwrapt the sky,
They share the nuptial feast with solemn joy.
The royal Duffus, with a husband's care,
Soothed in his martial arms the sorrowing fair,
O'er Albion's rocks exerted his command,
And stretched his sceptre o'er a willing land.



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