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THE

LORD OF THE ISLES.

CANTO FIRST.

LORD OF THE ISLES.

CANTO FIRST.

AUTUMN departs--but still his mantle's fold

Rests on the groves of noble Somerville, Beneath a shroud of russet dropp'd with gold

Tweed and his tributaries mingle still ;
Hoarser the wind, and deeper sounds the rill,

Yet lingering notes of sylvan music swell,
The deep-toned cushat, and the redbreast shrill ;

And yet some tints of summer splendour tell
When the broad sun sinks down on Ettrick's western fell.

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