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wreath of snow.

Her dark hair spreads on his face,

and their bloed is mixing round.

"Daughter of Colla, thou art low!" said Cairbar's hundred bards; "silence is at the blue streams of Selama, for Truthil's race have failed. When wilt thou rise in thy beauty, first of Erin's maids? Thy sleep is long in the tomb, and the morning distant far. The sun shall not come to thy bed, and say, 66 Awake, Darthula awake thou first of women! the wind of spring is abroad. The flowers shake their heads on the green hills, the woods wave their growing leaves." Retire, O sun; the daughter of Colla is asleep. She will not come forth in her beauty: she will not move, in the steps of her loveliness."

Such was the song of the bards, when they raised the tomb. I sung, afterwards, over the grave, when the king of Morven came; when he came to green Ullin to fight with car-borne Cairbar.

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A POEM.

The Argument.

Fingal, returning from an expedition which he had made into the Roman provin resolved to visit Cathulla, king of Inistore, and brother to Cemala, whose story is related, at large, in the dramatic poeni published in this collection. Upon his com ing in sight of Carric-thura, the palace of Cathulla, he observed a flame on its top, which, in those days, was a signal of distress. The wind drove him into a bay, sone distance from Carric-thura, and he was obliged to pass the night on the shore. Next day he attacked the army of Frothal king of sora, who had besieged Cathulla in his palace of Carric-thura, and took Frothal himself prisoner, after he had engaged him in a single combat. The deliverance of Carric-thura is the subject of the poem, but several other episodes are interwoven with it. It appears om tradition, that this poem was addressed to a Culdee, or one of the first Christian missionaries, and that the story of the spirit of Loda, supposed to be the ancient Odin of Scandin avia, was introduced by Ossian in opposition to the Culdee's doctrine. Be this as it will, it lets us into Ossian's notions of a superior being; and shows that he was not addicted to the superstition which prevailed over all the world, before the introduc tion of Christianity.

HAST, thou left thy blue course in heaven, goldenhaired son of the sky! The west has opened its gates; the bed of thy repose is there. The waves come to behold thy beauty; they lift their trembling heads: they see thee lovely in thy sleep; but they shrink away with fear. Rest in thy shadowy cave, O sun! and let thy return be in joy. But let a thousand lights arise to the sound of the harps of Selma: let the beam spread in the hall, the king of shells is returned! The strife of Crona is past, like sounds that are no more: raise the song, O bards, the king is returned with his fame.

Such was the song of Ullin, when Fingal returned from battle: when he returned in the fair blushing of

a The son of Ullin, with which the poem opens, is in a lyric measure. It was usual with Fingal, when he returned from his expeditions, to send his bards singing before hin. This species of triumph is called by Ossian, the son of victory.'

b Ossian has celebrated the strife of Crona,' in a particular poem. This poem is connected with it, but it was impossible for the translator to procure that part which elates to Crona, with any degree of purity.

youth, with all his heavy locks. IIis blue arms were on the hero; like a grey cloud on the sun, when he moves in his robes of mist, and shows but half his beams. His heroes follow the king: the feast of shells is spread. Fingal turns to his bards, and bids the song to rise.

Voices of echoing Cona! he said, O bards of other times! Ye, on whose souls the blue hosts of our fathers rise! strike the harp in my hall; and let Fingal hear the song. Pleasant is the joy of grief! it is like the shower of spring, when it softens the branch of the oak, and the young leaf lifts its green head. Sing cn, O bards, to-morrow we lift the sail. My blue course is through the ocean, to Carric-thura's walls; the mossy walls of Sarno, where Comala dwelt. There the noble Cathulla spreads the feast of shells. The boars of his woods are many, and the sound of the chase shall arise.

Cronnan, son of song! said Ullin, Minona, graceful at the harp! raise the song of Shilric, to please the Ling of Morven. Let Vinvela come in her beauty, hike the showery bow, when it shows its lovely head on the lake, and the setting sun is bright. And she comes, O Fingal! her voice is soft, but sad.

VINVELA. My love is a son of the hill. He pursues the Eying deer. His grey dogs are panting around him; his bow-string sounds in the wind. Dost thou Best by the fount of the rock, or by the noise of the mountain-stream? The rushes are nodding with the wind, the mist is flying over the hill. I will approach my love unperceived, and see him from the rock. Lovely I saw thee first by the aged rock of Branno; thou wert returning, tall, from the chase; the fairest among thy friends.

One should think that the parts of Shilric and Vinvela were represented by Cronn and Minona, whose very names denote that they were singers, who performed public Cronnan signifies a mournful sound;' Minona, or Min-'onn, soft air. All the dramatic pocins of Ossian appear to have been presented before Fingal, upon dema eccasions.

Bron, or Branno, signifies a mountain-stream; it is here some river known by that name, in the days of Ossian. There are several small rivers in the north of Scotland, still retaining the name of Bran; in particular, one which falls into the Tay

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SHIRLIC. What voice is that I hear? that voice like the summer wind. I sit not by the nodding rushes; I hear not the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvela e, afar I go to the wars of Fingal. My dogs attend me no No more I tread the hill. No more from on high I see thee, fair-moving by the stream of the plain ; bright as the tow of heaven; as the moon on the west

more.

ern wave.

VINVELA. Then thou art gone, O Shilric! and I am alone on the hill. The deer are seen on the brow; void of fear they graze along. No more they dread the wind; no more the rustling tree. The hunter is far removed; he is in the field of graves. Strangers! sons of the waves! spare my lovely Shilric.

SHILRIC. If fall I must in the field, raise high my grave, Vinvela. Grey stones and heaped-up earth, shall mark me to future times. When the hunter shall sit by the mound, and produce his food at noon," Some warrior rests here," he will say; and my fame shall live in his praise. Remember me, Vinvela, when low on earth I lie!

VINVELA. Yes! I will remember thee; indeed my Shilric will fall. What shall I do, my love! when thou art gone forever. Through these hills I will go at noon I will go through the silent heath. There I

will see the place of thy rest, returning from the chase. Indeed my Shilric will fall; but I will remem

ber him.

And I remember the chief, said the king of woody Morven; he consumed the battle in his rage. But now my eyes behold him not. I met him, one day, on the hill; his cheek was pale; his brow was dark. The sigh was frequent in his breast: his steps were towards the desart. But now he is not in the crowd of my chiefs, when the sounds of my shields arise. Dwells he in the narrow house the chief of high Car

mora &?

e Bhin-bdeul, a woman with a melodious voice.' Bh in the Gaelic language has the same sound with the V in English,

ƒ The grave.

Carn-mor. high rocky bill,'

b

Cronnan said Ullin of other times, raise the song of Shilric; when he returned to his hills, and Vinvela was no more. He leaned on her grey mossy stone; he thought Vinvela lived. He saw her fair-moving on the plain but the bright form lasted not the sun-beam fled from the field, and she was seen no more. Hear the song of Shilric; it is soft, but sad.

I sit by the mossy fountain; on the top of the hill of winds. One tree is rustling above me. Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is troubled below. The deer descend from the hill.. No hunter at a distance is seen; no whistling cow-herd is nigh. It is mid-day : but all is silent. Sad are my thoughts alone. Didst thou but appear, O my love, a wanderer on the heath! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee: thy bosom heaving on the sight; thine eyes full of tears for thy friends whom the mist of the hill had concealed! Thee I would comfort, my love, and bring thee to thy father's house.

But is it she that there appears, like a beam of light on the heath? bright as the moon in autumn, as the sun in a summer storm, comest thou lovely maid, over rocks, over mountains, to me? She speaks: but how weak her voice, like the breeze in the reeds of the pool.

"Returnest thou safe from the war? Where are thy friends, my love? I heard of thy death on the hill; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric!" Yes, my fair, I return; but I alone of my race. Thou shalt see them no more: their graves I raised on the plain. why art thou on the desart hill? Why on the heath, alone?"

But

"Alone I am, O Shilric! alone in the winter-house. With grief for thee I expired. Shilric, I am pale in the tomb."

She fleets, she sails away; as grey mist before the wind! and, wilt thou not stay, my love? Stay and be

b The distinction, which the Scots made between good and bad spirits, was, that the former appeared sometimes in the day-time in lonely unfrequented places, but the lat ter seldom but by night, and always in a gloomy dismal scene.

D

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