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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 son shall not come to thy bed, and say, " 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, 0 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 song, afterwards, over the grave, when the king of Morven came; when he came to green Ullin to fight with car-borne Cairbar.

* Trattil ni the founder of Dar-thola's family.


A POEM. tTJ>e argument*

•ingals retorning from an expedition which he had mate into the Roman rnmr<-'s resolved to visit Cathullas king of lnistores and brother to Om:ilas whose story u relateds at larges in the dramatic poem poblished in this collection. Upon his comma in sight of CarHcthuras the palace of Camullas he observed a flaind on its tu:'s whi- 1is in those dayss was a signal of distress. The wind drove him into a bays b « iistance from Carric-ihuras and he was nbliged to pass the night on the shorn. Next lay he attacked the army of Frothal king of Soras who hail brsief*t-rf CathuHn in his piilace of Carric-thuras and took Frothal himself prisoners aftor he had engaged him in a single combat. The deliverance of Uarricthura is the soblect of it"r poems but sever il other episodes are interwoven with it. It appears ii imtraditinns that this poem was addressed to a Culdees or one of the first Christian missionariess and that the story of the spirit of Lodas sopposed to be the ancient Odin of Seandie-avias was introduced by Ossian in opposition to the Culdee's doctrine. Betkis as it wills it lets us into Ossian's notions of a soperior being ; aid shows that he was nut addicted to the soperstition which prevailed over all the worlds before the iiiuoo'. . tion of Christianity.

Hast a 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 bean 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 vi youth, with all his heavy locks. His blue arms were ua the hero; like a grey cloud on the son, when he raoTes in his robes of mist, and shows but half his i"ean"s. His heroes follow the king: the feast of shells ii spread. Fingal torns to his bards, and bids the song 10 rise.

a The son of Ullins with which the poem openss is in a lyric mes'd^. Jt was nn*l 'with Fingals when he returned from his expeditionss to send his bards singing before him. This specles of triomph is cnlled by Ossians the ' son of victory.'

b Ossion has celebrated the ' strife of Cronas' in a particolar poem. This *cw is connected with its but it was impossible for the translator to procore that part wUki selates to Cronas with any degree of pority.

Voices of echoing Cona! he said, O bards of other t.mes! Ye, on whose souls the blue hosts of our fathers use! strike the harp in my hall -T and let Fingal hear the iong. Pleasant is the joy of grief! it is like the shower of spring, when it softens the branch of the oak, and flic young leaf lifts its green head. Sing on, O bards, to-morro'.v we lift the sail. My blue coorse is through tne ocean, to Carric-thura's walls; the mossy walls of iaraoy whfire Comala dwelt. There the noble Cathulla spreads the feast of shells. The boars of his woods are isany, and the sound of the chase shall arise.

Gonnan', son of song! said Ullin, Minona, graceful at the harp! raise the song of Shilric, to please the king oi Morven. Let Vinvela come in her beauty, tike the showery bow, when it shows its lovely head n« the lake, and the setting son is bright. And she comes, O Fingal! her voice is soft, but sad.

Vinvela. My love is a son of the hill. He porsoes rte Eying deer. His grey dogs are panting around him; his bow-string sounds in the wind. Dost thou Kit 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. Wely I saw thee first by the aged rock of Branno"; thoa wert returning, tall, from the chase; the fairest iraoi.g thy friends.

t Om should think that the parts of -:hlMc pes Vinvela were represented t'y CronS"* and Mimma, w hose very names denote that.they were sinrfers, who perfbrmetf 'a pellic Croimm sisrlfieR a ' mournful sound;' Minona, or Min-'onn. . soi, air.' *i! tftc dramatic poems of ussian appear to have been presented betore Finfcfal, upon 'wenm eaaisiona.

"hrcn, oc Branno, signifies a mountain-stream; it is here sime river kn"wn by' "Wit mne, in the davs or' Oasian. There are seveial rami! rivers inthe north sis k"tlaoU,sti.i i,-Uilus l-e a-.a-* 0. Bi-h , ia ;'-riiwi;.r, oiic v. ta:h falla into the Tay,

Shirlic. What voice is that I hear? that voice like the sommer wind. I sit not by the nodding rushes; I hear not the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvelas, afar I go to the wars of Fingal. My dogs attend me ao more. No more I tread the hill. No more from on high I see thees fair-moving by the stream of the plain; bright as the how of heaven; as the moon on the western wave.

Vinvela. Then thon 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 stonesjand heaped-op 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: 1 will go through the silent heath. There I will see the place of thy rest, returning from the chase. Indeed my Shilric will fall i but I will remember him.

And I remember the chief, said the king of woody Morven; he consomed 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 Carmora t?

e Bhin-bdeols ' a woman with a melodioos voice.' EMn the Gaelic language has the lame sonod with the V in Englishs / The grave. £ Carn-mors i high rocky bill.'

Cronnan! said Ullin of other times, raise the song of Shilric; when he retorned 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 son-beam Bed 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 sommer 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.

"Retornest 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 Teturn; but I alone of my race. Thou shalt see them no more: their graves I raised on the plain. But why art thou on the desart hill? Why on the heath, alone?"

"Alone I am, O Shilric I alone in the winter-house. With srief 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

h Thcdistinction, which the Scots made between good and bad spirits, W.ts, that the former appeared sometimes in the day-time in lonely uiifr^uuented places, tut tns Ut:rr stldum but by night, and always in a gloomy dismal scene.

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