Impatient of the silent horn,
390 Now on the gale her voice was borne:
"Father!" she cried; the rocks around
Loved to prolong the gentle sound.
A while she paused, no answer came-
"Malcolm, was thine the blast?" the name
395 Less resolutely uttered fell,
The echoes could not catch the swell.
"A stranger I," the Huntsman said
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