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Wild as his land, in native deserts bred,
By luft incited, or by malice led,
The villain Arab, as he prowls for prey,
Oft marks with blood and wasting flames the way;
Yet none fo cruel as the Tartar foe,
To death inur'd, and nurst in scenes of woe.

He said ; when loud along the vale was heard A fhriller shriek, and nearer fires appeard : Th’ affrighted shepherds thro' the dews of night, Wide o'er the moon-light hills renew'd their flight.

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Ο D Ε Τ Ο Ρ Ι Τ Υ.

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Thou, the friend of man aflign'd,

With balmy hạnds his wounds to bind,
And charm his frantic woe :
When first Distress, with dagger keen,
Broke forth to waste his destin'd scene,

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His wild unsated foe!

By Pella's Bard, a magic name,
By all the griefs his thought could frame,
Receive

my

humble rite :
Long, Pity, let the nations view
Thy sky-worn robes of tendereft blue,

And eyes of dewy light!

But wherefore need I wander wide
To old Iliffus' diftant fide,

Deserted

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