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His priests received the exhausted Monk,
END OF CANTO SECOND.
LORD OF THE ISLES.
Hast thou not markd, when o'er thy startled head
Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has rollid, How, when its echoes fell, a silence dead
Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold ? The rye-grass shakes not on the sod-built fold,
The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still, The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd Hold,
Till, murmuring distant first, then near and shrill, The savage whirlwind wakes, and sweeps the groaning hill !