daughter was heard to complain. Frequent
and loud were her cries; nor
could her father relieve her. All
night I stood on the shore. All night I
heard her cries. Loud was the wind;
and the rain beat hard on the side of the
mountain. Before morning appeared,
her voice was weak. It died away, like
the evening-breeze among the grass of
the rocks. Spent with grief she expired.
O lay me soon by her side.

When the storms of the mountain
come; when the north lifts the waves
on high; I sit by the sounding shore,
and look on the fatal rock. Often by
the setting moon I see the ghosts of
my children. Indistinct, they walk in
mournful conference together. Will
none of you speak to me?--But they
do not regard their father.



XII

RYNO, ALPIN.

RYNO