TEMORA.

The Arqument.

Morning coming on, Fingal, after a speech to his people, devolves the command on Gaul, the son of Morni, it being the custom of the times, that the king should not engage, till the necessity of affairs required his superior valour and conduct. The king and Ossian retire to the rock of Cormul, which overlooked the field of battle. The bards sing the war-song. The general conflict is described. Gaul, the son o Morni, distinguishes himself; kills Tur-lathon, chief of Moruth, and other chiefs of lesser name. On the other hand, Foldath, who commanded the frish army (for Cathmor, after the example of Fingal, kept himself from battle) fights gallantly; kills Connal, chief of Dun-lora, and advances to engage Gaul himself. Gaul, in the mean time, being wounded in the hand, by a random arrow, is covered by Fillan, the son of Fingal, who performs prodigies of valour. Night comes on. The horn of Fingal recals his ariny. The bards meet them, with a congratulatory song, in which the praises of Gaul and Fillan are particularly celebrated. The chiefs sit down at a feast; Fingal misses Connal. The episode of Connal and Duth-caron is introduced; which throws further light on the ancient history of Ireland. Carril is dispatched to raise the tomb of Connal. The action of this book takes up the second day, from the opening of the poem.

WHO is that, at blue-streaming Lubar; by the bending hill of the roes? Tall, he leans on an oak torn from high, by nightly winds. Who but Comhal's son, brightening in the last of his fields? His grey hair is on the breeze: he half unsheathes the sword of Luno. His eyes are turned to Moi-lena, to the dark-rolling of foes. Dost thou hear the voice of the king? It is like the burning of a stream in the desart, when it comes between its echoing rocks, to the blasted field of the sun.

"Wide-skirted comes down the foe! Sons of woody Morven, arise. Be ye like the rocks of my land, on whose brown sides are the rolling of waters. A beam of joy comes on my soul; I see them mighty before me. It is when the foe is feeble, that the sighs of Fingal are heard; lest death should come without renown, and darkness dwell on his tomb. Who shall lead the war, against the host of Alnecma? It is only when danger grows, that my sword shall shine. Such was the custom, heretofore, of Trenmor the ruler of wind VOL. II. L

and thus descended to battle the blue-shielded Trathal."

The chiefs bend towards the king: each darkly seems to claim the war. They tell, by halves, their mighty deeds and turn their eyes on Erin. But far before the rest the son of Morni stood; silent he stood, for who had not heard of the battles of Gaul? They rose within his soul. His hand, in secret, seized the sword. The sword which he brought from Strumon, when the strength of Morni failed.

On his spear stood the son of Clathom in the wander. ing of his locks. Thrice he raised his eyes to Fingal: his voice thrice failed him, as he spoke. Fillan could not boast of battles; at once he strode away. Bent over a distant stream he stood the tear hung in his eye. He struck, at times, the thistle's head, with his inverted spear.

Nor is he unseen of Fingal. Sidelong he beheld his son. He beheld him, with bursting joy; and turned, amidst his crowded soul. In silence turned the king

? Strumon, stream of the hill, the name of the seat of the family of Gaul, in the neighbourhood of Selma. During Gaul's expedition to Fromathon, mentioned in the poem of Oithona, Morni his father died. Morni ordered the sword of Strumon, which had been preserved in the family, as a re que, (from the days of Colgach, the most renowned of his ancestors) to be laid by his side, in the tomb: at the same time leaving it In charge to his son, not to take it from thence, till he was reduced to the last extremi ty. Not long after, two of his brothers being slain, in battle, by Coldaronnan, chief of Clutha, Gaul went to his father's tomb to take the sword. His address to the spirit of the deceased hero, is the only part now remaining of a poem of Ossian's on the subject. I shall here lay it before the reader.

Gaul. "Breaker of echoing shields, whose head is deep in shades; hear me from the darkness of Clora O son of Colgach hear!

No rustling, like the eagle's wing, comes over the course of my streams. Deep-bosomed in the midst of the desart, O king of Strumon, hear!

Dwellest thou in the shadowy breeze, that pours its dark wave over the grass? Cease to strew the beard of the thistle; O chief of Ciora, hear!

Or ridest thou on a beam, amidst the dark of clouds? Pourest thou the loud wind on the seas, to roll their blue waves over isles? hear me, father of Gaul; amidst thy ter rors, hear!

The rustling of eagles is heard, the murmuring oaks shake their heads on the hills; dreadful and pleasant is thy approach, friend of the dwelling heroes.

Morni. Who awakes me in the midst of my clouds, where my locks of mist spread on the winds? Mixed with the noise of streams, why rises the voice of Gaul?

Gaul. My foes are around me, Morni; their dark ships descend from their waves. Give the sword of Strumon, that beam which thou hidest in thy night.

Morni. Take the sword of resounding Strumon; I look on thy war, my son; I look, a dim meteor, from my cloud; blue-shielded Gaul, destroy."

m Clatho was the daughter of Cathulla, king of Inistore. Fingal, in one of his expeditions to that island, fell in love with Clatho, and took her to wife, after the death of Ros-crana, the daughter of Cormac, king of Ireland.

Clatho was the mother of Ryno, Fillan, and Bosmina, mentioned in the battle of Lo Fillan is often called the son of Ciatho, to distinguish him from those sons which ngal bad by Ros-crana,

towards Mora of woods. He hid the big tear with his locks. At length his voice is heard.

"First of the sons of Morni; thou rock that defiest the storm! Lead thou my battle, for the race of lowlaid Cormac. No boy's staff is thy spear: no harmless beam of light thy sword. Son of Morni of steeds, behold the foe; destroy. Fillan, observe the chief: he is not calm in strife: nor burns he, heedless, in battle; my son, observe the king. He is strong as Lubar's stream, but never foams and roars. High on cloudy Mora, Fingal shall behold the war. Stand, Ossian", near thy father, by the falling stream. Raise the voice, O bards! Morven, move beneath the sound. latter field; clothe it over with light.” ·

It is my

As the sudden rising of winds, or distant rolling of troubled seas, when some dark ghost, in wrath, heaves the billows over an isle, the seat of mist, on the deep, for many dark-brown years: so terrible is the sound of the host, wide-moving over the field. Gaul is tall before them: the streams glitter within his strides. The bards raised the song by his side; he struck his shield between. On the skirts of the blast the tuneful voices

arose.

"On Crona," said the bards, "there bursts a stream by night. It swells in its own dark course, till morning's early beam. Then comes it white from the hill, with the rocks and their hundred groves. Far be my steps from Crona: death is tumbling there. Be ye a stream from Mora, sons of cloudy Morven."

"Who rises, from his car, on Clutha?. The hills are troubled before the king! The dark woods echo round, and lighten at his steel. See him, amidst the foe, like Colgach's sportful ghost; when he scatters the clouds,

n Ullin being sent to Morven with the body of Oscar, Ossian attends his father in quality of chief bard.

There are some traditions, but, I believe, of late invention, that this Colgach was the same with the Galgacus of Tacitus. He was the ancestor of Gaul, the son of Morni, and appears, from some really ancient traditions, to have been king, or Vergobret, of. the Caledonians; and hence proceeded the pretensions of the family of Morni to the throne, which created a good deal of disturbance, both to Comhal and his son Fingal. The first was killed in battle by that tribe; and it was after Fingal was grown up, that they were reduced to obedience. Colgach signifies fiercely looking;' which is a very proper name for a warrior, and is probably the origin of Galgacus; though I believe it is a matter of mere conjecture, that the Colgach here mentioned was the same with that hero. I cannot help observing, with how much propriety the song of the bards is con

and rides the eddying wings! It is Morni of the bound, ing steeds! Be like thy father, Gaul."

"Selma is opened wide. Bards take the trembling harps. Ten youths carry the oak of the feast. A distant sun-beam marks the hill. The dusky waves of the blast fly over the fields of grass. Why art thou so silent, Morven? The king returns with all his fame. Did not the battle roar; yet peaceful is his brow? It roared, and Fingal overcame. Be like thy father, Fillan."

They moved beneath the song. High waved their arms, as rushy fields beneath autumnal winds. On Mora stood the king in arms. Mist flies round his buckler

broad, as aloft it hung on a bough, on Cormul's mossy rock. In silence I stood by Fingal, and turned my eyes on Cromla's wood: lest I should behold the host, and rush amidst my swelling soul. My foot is forward on the heath. I glittered, tall, in steel: like the falling stream of Tromo, which nightly winds bind over with ice. The boy sees it, on high, gleaming to the early beam towards it he turns his ear, and wonders why it is so silent.

Nor bent over a stream is Cathmor, like a youth in a peaceful field: wide he drew forward the war, a dark and troubled wave. But when he beheld Fingal on Mora, his generous pride arose. "Shall the chief of Atha fight, and no king in the field? Foldath, lead my people forth. Thou art a beam of fire."

Forth issued the chief of Moma, like a cloud, the robe of ghosts. He drew his sword, a flame from his side; and bade the battle move. The tribes, like ridgy waves, dark pour their strength around. Haughty in his stride before them: his red eye rolls in wrath. He called the chief of Dunratho'; and his words were heard.

ducted. Gaul, whose experience might have rendered his conduct cautious in war, has the example of his father, just rushing to battle, set before his eyes. Fillan, on the o ther hand, whose youth might make him impetuous and unguarded in action, is put in mind of the sedate and serene behaviour of Fingal upon like occasions.

The expedition of Morni to Clutha, aliuded to, is handed down in tradition. The mountain Cromla was in the neighbourhood of the scene of this poem; which was nearly the same with that of Fingal.

Dun-ratho, a hill with a plain on its top. Cormuil, blue eye.' Foldath dispatches, here, Cormul to lie in ambush behind the army of the Caledonians. This speech

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"Cormul, thou beholdest that path. It winds green behind the foe. Place thy people there; lest Morven should escape from my sword. Bards of green-valleyed Erin, let no voice of yours arise. The sons of Morven must fall without song. They are the foes of Cairbar. Hereafter shall the traveller meet their dark, thick mist on Lena, where it wanders, with their ghosts, beside the reedy lake. Never shall they rise, without song, to the dwelling of winds."

Cormul darkened as he went: behind him rushed his tribe. They sunk beyond the rock: Gaul spoke to Fillan of Moruth; as his eye pursued the course of the dark-eyed king of Dunratho. "Thou beholdest the steps of Cormul; let thine arm be strong. When he is low, son of Fingal, remember Gaul in war. Here I fall forward into battle, amidst the ridge of shields."

The sign of death arose the dreadful sound of Morni's shield. Gaul poured his voice between. Fingal rose, high on Mora. He saw them, from wing to wing, bending in the strife. Gleaming, on his own dark-hill, the strength of Atha stood. They were like two spirits of heaven, standing each on his gloomy cloud; when they pour abroad the winds, and lift the roaring seas. The blue-tumbling of waves is before them, marked with the paths of whales. Themselves are calm and bright; and the gale lifts their locks of mist.

Like

What beam of light hangs high in air? It is Morni's dreadful sword. Death is strewed on thy paths, O Gaul; thou foldest them together in thy rage. a young oak falls Turlathon, with his branches round him. His high-bosomed spouse stretches her white arms, in dreams, to the returning king, as she sleeps by gurgling Moruth, in her disordered locks. It is

suits well with the character of Foldath, which is, throughout, haughty and presumptu ous. Towards the latter end of his speech, we find the opinion of the times, concern. ing the unhappiness of the souls of those who were buried without the funeral song. This doctrine, no doubt, was inculcated by the bards to make their order more respectable and necessary.

Tur-lathon, broad trunk of a tree.' Moruth, great stream.' Oichamo, n maid,' Dun-lora, the hill of the noisy stream. Duth-saron; • dark-brową ulan.