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Her soul is

of eagle-wings. Sul-malla started from sleep, in her disordered locks. She seized the helmet from earth, and trembled in her place. "Why should they know in Erin of the daughter of Inis-huna?" For she remembered the race of kings, and the pride of her soul arose. Her steps are behind a rock, by the blue-winding stream* of a vale, where dwelt the dark-brown hind, ere yet the war arose. Thither came the voice of Cathmor at times, to Sul-malla's ear. darkly sad; she pours her words on wind. "The dreams of Inis-huna departed: they are rolled away from my soul. I hear not the chase in my land. I am concealed in the skirts of war. I look forth from my cloud, but no beams appear to light my path. I behold my warrior low; for the broad-shielded king is near; he that overcomes in danger; Fingal of the spears. Spirit of departed Con-mor, are thy steps on the bosom of winds? Comest thou, at times, to other lands, father of sad Sul-malla? Thou dost come, for I have heard thy voice at night; while yet I rose on the wave to streamy Inis-fail. The ghost of fathers, they say,, can seize the souls of their race, while they behold them lonely in the midst of woe. Call me, my father, when the king is low on earth; for then I shall be lonely in the midst of woe."

*This was not the valley of Lona to which Sul-malla afterwards retired.

Con-mor, the father of Sul-malla, was killed in that war, from which Cathmor delivered Inis-huna. Lormar his son succeeded Con-mor. It was the opinion of the times, when a person was reduced to a pitch of misery, which could admit of no alle viation, that the ghosts of his ancestors called his soul away. This supernatural kind of death was called the voice of the dead; and is believed by the superstitious vulgar to this day.

There is no people in the world, perhaps, who gave more universal credit to apparitions, and the visits of the ghosts of the deceased to their friends, than the common Highlanders. This is to be attributed as much, at least, to the situation of the coun try they possess, as to that credulous disposition which distinguishes an unenlightened people. As their business was feeding of cattle, in dark and extensive desarts, so their journeys lay over wide and unfrequented heaths, where often they were obliged to sleep in the open air, amidst the whistling of winds and the roar of water-falls. The gloominess of the scenes around them was apt to beget that melancholy disposition of mind, which most readily receives impressions of the extraordinary and super natural kind. Failing asleep in this gloomy mood, and their dreams being disturbed by the noise of the elements around, it is no matter of wonder, that they thought they heard the voice of the dead. This voice of the dead, however, was, perhaps, no more than a shriller whistle of the winds in an old tree, or in the chinks of a neigh bouring rock. It is to this cause I ascribe those many and improbable tales of ghosts, which we meet with in the Highlands: for, in other respects, we do not find that the Highlanders are more credulous than their neighbours.

The Argument.

Ossian, after a short address to the harp of Cona, describes the arrangement of both armies on either side of the river Lubar. Fingal gives the command to Fillan: but, at the same time, orders Gaul, the son of Morni, who had been wounded in the hand in the preceding battle, to assist him with his counsel. The army of the fir. bolg is commanded by Foldath. The general onset is described. The great actions of Fillan. He kills Kothmar and Culmin. But when Fillan conquers in one wing, Foldath presses hard on the other. He wounds Dennid, the son of Duthno, and puts the whole wing to flight. Dermid deliberates with himself, and, at last, resolves to put a stop to the progress of Foldath, by engaring him in single combat. When the two chiefs were approaching towards one another, Fillan came suddenly to the relief of Dermid; engaged Foldath, and killed him. The behaviour of Mal thos towards the fallen Foldath. Fillan puts the whole army of the Firbolg to flight. The book closes with an address to Clatho, the mother of that heat.

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BOOK V.

THOU dweller between the shields that hang on high in Ossian's hall! descend from thy place, O harp, and let me hear thy voice! Son of Alpin, strike the string; thou must awake the soul of the bard. The murmur of Lora's stream has rolled the tale away. I stand in the cloud of years: few are its openings toward the past; and when the vision comes, it is but dim and dark. I hear thee, harp of Cona; my soul returns, like a breeze, which the sun brings back to the vale, where dwelt the lazy mist.

Lubar is bright before me, in the windings of its vale. On either side, on their hills, rise the tall forms

Lora is often mentioned, it was a small and rapid stream in the neighbourhood of Selma. There is no vestige of this name now remaining; though it appears from a very old song, which the translator has seen, that one of the small rivers on the northwest coast was called Lora some centuries ago.

a From several passages in the poem, we may form a distinct idea of the scene of the action of Temora. At a small distance from one another rose the hills of Mora and Lona: the first possessed by Fingal, the second by the army of Cathmor. Through the intermediate plain ran the small river Lubar, on the banks of which all the battles were fought, excepting that between Cairbar and Oscar, related in the first book, This last mentioned engagement happened to the north of the hill of Mora, of which Fingal took possession, after the army of Cairbar fell back to that of Cathmor. At some distance, but within sight of Mora towards the west, Lubar issned from the mountain of Crommal, and after a short course through the plain of Moi-lena, dis charged itself into the sea near the field of battle. Behind the mountain of Crommal ran the small stream of Levath, on the banks of which Ferard-artho, the son of Cair bar, the only person remaining of the race of Conar, lived concealed in a cave, during the usurpation of Cairbar, the son of Borbar-duthul

of the kings; their people are poured around them, bending forward to their words; as if their fathers spoke, descending from their winds. But the kings were like two rocks in the midst, each with its dark head of pines, when they are seen in the desart, above low-sailing mist. High on their face are streams, which spread their foam on blasts.

Beneath the voice of Cathmor poured Erin, like the sound of flame. Wide they came down to Lubar; before them is the stride of Foldath. But Cathmor retired to his hill, beneath his bending oaks. The tumbling of a stream is near the king: he lifts, at times, his gleaming spear. It was a flame to his people, in the midst of war. Near him stood the daughter of Con-mor, leaning on her rock. She did not rejoice over the strife: her soul delighted not in blood. A valley spreads green behind the hill, with its three blue streams. The sun is there in silence and the dun mountain-roes come down. On these are turned the eyes of Inis-huna's white-bosomed maid.

b

Fingal beheld, on high, the son of Borbar-duthul: he saw the deep rolling of Erin, on the darkened plain. He struck that warning boss, which bids the people obey; when he sends his chiefs before them, to the field of renown. Wide rose their spears to the sun; their echoing shields reply around. Fear, like a va pour, did not wind among the host: For he, the king, was near, the strength of streamy Morven. Gladness brightened the hero; we heard his words of joy.

"Like the coming forth of winds, is the sound of Morven's sons! They are mountain-waters, determined in their course. Hence is Fingal renowned, and his name in other lands. He was not a lonely beam in danger; for your steps were always near. But never was I a dreadful form in your presence darkened into wrath. My voice was no thunder to your ears: mine eyes sent forth no death. When the haughty appeared, I beheld them not. They were forgot at my feasts:

It was to this valley Sul-maila retired, during the last and decisive battle between Fingal and Cathmor. It is described in the seventh book, where it is called the vale c Lona, and the residence of a druid.

like mist they melted away. A young beam is before you: few are his paths to war. They are few; but he is valiant; defend my dark-haired son. Bring him back with joy hereafter he may stand alone. His form is like his fathers; his soul is a flame of their fire. Son of car-borne Morni, move behind the son of Clatho: let thy voice reach his ear, from the skirts of war. Not unobserved rolls battle, before thee, breaker of the shields."

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The king strode, at once, away to Cormul's lofty rock. As, slow, I lifted my steps behind, came forward the strength of Gaul. His shield hung loose on its thong; he spoke, in haste, to Ossian. "Bind', son of Fingal, this shield; bind it high on the side of Gaul. The foe may behold it, and think I lift the spear. If I shall fall, let my tomb be hid in the field; for fall I must, without my fame: mine arm cannot lift the steel. Let not Evir-choma hear it, to blush between her locks. Fillan, the mighty behold us! let us not forget the strife. Why should they come, from their hills, to aid our flying field?"

But the deeds of They rush carewords are never

He strode onward, with the sound of his shield. My voice pursued him, as he went. "Can the son of Morni fall without his fame in Erin? the mighty forsake their souls of fire. less over the fields of renown: their heard." I rejoiced over the steps of the chief: I strode to the rock of the king, where he sat in his wandering locks, amidst the mountain-wind.

In two dark ridges bend the hosts towards each other, at Lubar. Here Foldath rose, a pillar of darkness; there brightened the youth of Fillan. Each with his spear in the stream, sent forth the voice of war. Gaul struck the shield of Morven: at once they plunge in battle. Steel poured its gleam on steel: like the fall of streams shone the field, when they mix their foam together, from two dark-browed rocks. Behold he comes, the son of fame: he lays the people low! Deaths

c It is necessary to remember, that Gaul was wounded; which occasions his requiring assistance of Ossian to bind his shield on his side.

sit on blasts around him! Warriors strew thy paths, O Fillan!

Rothmard, the shield of warriors, stood between two chinky rocks. Two oaks which winds had bent from high, spread their branches on either side. He rolls his darkening eyes on Fillan, and silent, shades his friends. Fingal saw the approaching fight; and all his soul arose. But as the stone of Loda falls, shook, at once, from rocking Druman-ard, when spirits heave the earth in their wrath; so fell blue-shielded Rothmar.

Near are the steps of Culmin; the youth came, bursting into tears. Wrathful he cut the wind, ere yet he mixed his strokes with Fillan. He had first bent the bow with Rothmar, at the rock of his own blue streams. There they had marked the place of the roe, as the sun-beam flew over the fern. Why, son of Cul-allin, dost thou rush on that beam of light? It is a fire that consumes. Youth of Strutha retire. Your fathers were not equal, in the glittering strife of the field.

The mother of Culmin remains in the hall; she looks forth on blue-rolling Strutha. A whirlwind rises on the stream, dark-eddying round the ghost of her son. His dogs are howling in their place: his shield is bloody

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d Ruth-mar, the sound of the sea before a storm.' Druman-ard, high ridge,' Culmin, soft-haired.' Cul-allin,' beautiful locks. Strutha, streamy river.'

e By the stone of Loda, as I have remarked in my notes on some other poems of Os.. șian, is meant a place of worship among the Scandinavians. Ossian, in his many expe ditions to Orkney and Scandinavia, became acquainted with some of the rites of the religion which prevailed in those countries, and frequently alludes to them in his poems. There are some ruins, and circular pales of stones, remaining still in Orkney, and the islands of Shetland, which retain to this day the name of Loda, or Loden. They seem to have differed materially, in their construction, from those druidical monuments which remain in Britain, and the western isles. The places of worship among the Scandinavians were originally rude and unadorned. In after ages, when they opened a communication with other nations, they adopted their manners, and built temples. That at Upsal, in Sweden, was amazingly rich and magnificent. Haquin, of Norway, built one near Drontheim, little inferior to the former; and it went always under the name of Loden.-Mallet, introduction a l'histoire de Dannemarc.

f The poet, metaphorically, calls Fillan a beam of light. Culmin, mentioned here, was the son of Clonmar, chief of Strutha, by the beautiful Cul-aliin. She was so remarkable for the beauty of her person, that she is introduced frequently in the similies and allusions of ancient poetry. Mar Chul-aluin Strutha nan sian," is a simile of Ossian in another poern; i. e. Lovely as Cul-allin of Strutha of the storms.

g Dogs were thought to be sensible of the death of their master, let it happen at ever so great a distance. It was also the opinion of the times, that the arms which warriors left at home became bloody, when they themselves fell in battle. It was from those signs that Cul-allin is supposed to understand that her son is killed; in which she is confirmed by the appearance of his ghost. Her sudden and short exclamation, on the occasion, is more affecting than if she had extended her complaints to a greater length. The attitude of the fallen youth, and Fillan's reflections over him, are natural and judicious, and come forcibly back on the mind, when we consider that the supposed situ ation of the father of Culmin was so similar to that of Fingal, after the death of Filles himself.

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