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in battle, for his arm was young. But the soul of the Touth was great; the fire of valour burned in his eyes. He saw the disordered steps of his father, and his sigh arose. "King of Croma," he said, " is it because thou hast no son? is it for the weakness of Fovar-gormo's arm that thy sighs arise? I begin, my father, to feel the strength of my arm; I have drawn the sword of my youth; and I have bent the bow. Let me meet this Rothmar, with the youths of Croma: let me meet him, O my father; for I feel my burning soul."

"And thou shalt meet him," I said, " son of the sightless Crothar: But let others advance before thee, that I may hear the tread of thy feet at thy return ; for my eyes behold thee not, fair-haired Favor-gormo! He went; he met the foe ; he fell. The foe advances towards Croma. He who slew my son is near with all his pointed spears."

It is not time to fill the shell, I replied, and took my spear. My people saw the fire of my eyes; and they rose around. All night we strode along the heath. Grey morning rose in the east. A green narrow vale appeared before us; nor did it want its blue, stream. The dark host of Rothmar are on its banks, with all their glittering arms. We fought along the vale ; they fled; Rothmar sonk beneath my sword. Day had not descended in the west when I brought his arms to Crothar. The aged hero felt them with his hands; and joy brightened in his soul.

The people gather to the hall; the sound of the shells is heard. Ten harps are strung; five bardss advance, and sing by turns d the praise of Ossian; they poured forth their burning soulss and the harp answered to their voice. The joy o:i Croma was great ! for peace retnrned to the land. The night came on with silence, and the morning returned with joy. No foe came in darkness, with his glittering spear. The joy of Croma was great; for the gloomy Rothmar fell.

4 Those extempore compositions wW in great repote among socceeding bards. The ;Jcces extant of that kind show more of the good ears than of the poetical genios of their authors. The translator has only met with one poem ol this sorts which he thinks wortay of being preserved. It is a thousand years later than Ossians but the authors seem to have observed his manners and adopted some of his expressions. The story of ,t is this: Five bards passing the night in the house of a chief- who was a poet himselfs 'enl severally to make their observations ons and retorned with an extempore description of night. The night happened to be one in Octobers as appeals from the poem; and in the north of Scotland. It has all that variety which the bards ascribe to it in their descriptions.

FIRST BARD.

NIGHT is dull ant) dirk. The clouds rest on the hills. No star with green trembling team: no moon looks fronv the sky. I hear the blast in the wood; but I hear it dis lint far. The stteam of the valley mormors , hut :Is mormor is sollen and sad. Fro ;actree at the grave of the deads the long-howling owl is heard. I see a dim form

the plain! It is a ghost! It fades—it flies. Some funeral shall pass this way: the met- or marks the path. s

The distant dug U howling from the hut of the hill. The stag lies on the mountainmoss: the hind is at his side. She hears the wind in his branchy horns. She startss but lies ei;nin.

The roe is in the clift of the rock; the heath-cock'i head is beneath his wicf?. Sn beaits no hirds is abroads but the owl and the howling fox. She on a leailess tree • he in • cloud on the hill.

Darks partings tremblings sads the traveller has lost his way. Through shrubss through thornss he goes along the purpling rill. He fears the rock and the fen. He fears theghost of night. The old tree groans to the hias*.; the falling branch resounds. The wind drlves the withered burss clung tugethers alonl; the grass. It is the light tread of a ghost! he trembles amirtst the night.

Darks duskys howling is mght' cloudys wwwhs. in - full of ghosts!' The dead are ibroad! My friendss receive me from the night.

SECOND HARD.

THE wind op. The shower decends. '! he spirit of the mountain shrieks. Woodsfall from high. Windows flap. The growing river roars. The traveller attempts the ford. Harks that shriek! he dies :—the storm drives the horse from the hills the goats the lowing cow. They trembles as drives the shower beside the mouldering bank. The hunter starts from sleep in his lonely hut; he wakes the fire decayed. His wet dugs smoke around him. He fills the chinks with heath. Lood roar two mountain-streams which meet beside Iris booth.

Sads on the side of a hills the wandering shepherd sits. The tree resoonds above hinf. The stream roars down the rock. He waits for the rising moon to goide him to his borne.

Ghosts Tide on the storm to-night. Sweet is their voice between the squalls of wind. Their songs are of other worlds.

The r.ii n is past. The dry wind blows. Streams roars and windows flap. Cold drops fall from the roof. I see the starry sky. But the shower gathers again. The west ii gloomy and dark. Night is stormy and dismal: receive mes my friendss from night.

THIRD BARD.

THE wind still soonds between the hills; and whistles through the grass of the rock. The urs fs-.l! from their place. The turfy hut is torn. The cloodss divideds Hy over the skys and show the burning stars. The meteors token of death! flies sparkling throogh the gloom. It rests on the hills I set: the withered ferns the dark-browed rocks the fallen oak. Who is that in his shroud beneath the trec, by the stream?

The waves dark-tomble on the lakes mil brh its ruckysides. The boat is brim-full In the eavft; the oar' on the rocking tide. A maid sits sad beside the rocks arid eyes the rolling stream. Her lover promised to come. She saw his boats when yet it was i !plit on the lake. Is this his broken boat on the shore? Are these his gruans &n the wind t

Hiirk! the hail rattles around. The flaky snow descends. The tops of the hills are white. The stormy winds abate. Various is the night and cold l receive ines my friends, from night.

FOURTH BARD.

NIGHT Iscrlm and fall; bloes ftarrys settled is night. The windsswith the clouds sregime. Thev i.::;£ behind the hill. The moon w op on the mountain. Trees !flitter : streams shine on the rock. Bright rolls the settled lake; bright the stream of the vate.

1 see the treee overtorned: the shocks of corn on the plain. The wakeful hind reboilds the shockss and whistles on the distant field.

Calms sett it'lls fair is night! Who coines from the place of the dead? That frrm'a the robs of sni.w ; white arms and dark-brown hair! It :s the daughter of the chief nf the people ; rhc that lately fell'. Comes let us view thees O maid! thou that hast k+n !he delight of heroes! The «Utst driws. toe phantom away; whites withoot rorraait vends the hill.

I raised my voice for Fovar-gormo, when they laid the chief in earth. The aged Crothar was there, but his sigh was not heard. He searched for the wound of his son, and found it in his breast. Joy rose in the face of the aged. He came and spoke to Oswan.

"King of spears ' ." he said, M my son has not fallen without his fame. The young warrior did not fly ; but met! death as he went forward in his strength. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is heard! The feeble will not behold them in the hall ; or sn:ile at their trembling hands. Their memory shall be honoored in the song; the young tear of the virgin falls. But the aged wither away by degrees, and the fame of their youth begins to be forgot. They fall in secret; the sigh of their son is not heard. Joy is around their tomb; and the stone of their fame is placed without a tear. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is around them!"

TT* breezes drive the blue mist, slowly, over the narrow vale. It rites on the hii'l and joins its head to heaven. Night is settled, calm, blue, starry, bright with the moon. geceive me not, my friends, for lovely is the nigh-i

FIFTH BARD.

NIGHT is calm, but dreary. The moon is in a cloud in the west. Slow moves that pile beam along the shad d hill; the distant wave is heard. The torrent inurmor, on the ruck. The coes: it heard from the booth. .More than hall the night Is vast. The house-wife groping in the gloom, rt'-krnd!es the settled tire. The burner think. that <ay approaches, Mid calls his bounding dugs. lie ascends the hill, and whittles. n his way. A blast removes the cloud, lie sees the starry plough of the iiono. Much of the night is to pass; he nods by the mossy rnck

Hark! the whirlwind is in the wood! A low mormur in the vale' It is the mighty -nny of the dead returning from the sir.

The moun rests behind the hill. The beam b still on that lofty rock. Long are the shadows of the trees. Now it is dark over ail. isight is dreary, ailcnt, and aurk! receive me, my friends, from night.

THE CHIEF.

LET clouds rest on the hiHs: spirits fly, and travellers fear. Let the winds of the woods arise, t he sounding storms descend. Ro,r streams, i.nd windows linn, md greenwinged metenrs fly ; rise the pale moon from behind her hiils, .:r in:loie ner he' \ in clouds; night isalike to me. bine, stormy, nr gloomy the sky. Ni;;ht it" s before the beam, when it is poured on the hill. The young day returns from his cloudi, but we :c turn no more

Where arc our chiefs of old f Where our kings of mighty name ? The fields of their tattles arc silent. Scarce their mossy toinbs remain. We sfcv.il also be fo,gut. This luitv house shall fall. Our sons f hull not !t!, .l.l the ruins in grass. They shnllsuk o, the aged, Where stood the walls of our fathers?"

Raise the song, and strike thp harp! send round the shells of ioy. Suspend a hundred tapers on high. Youtbs and maids txr,.ii the nance Let some Ltc'v h ml l*: near me, tu tell the deeds of other times; of kinss reuowned in our land, ot :hiefs we U hold no more. Thus let the night pass, until morning shall appear in our Uali ,. Then let ilia bow be at hand, the dugs, the yuutbs of Uie chase.. Who shall aicend the hiii with £,7i sod awake the ue«.

A POEM.

W)t argument.s

Fingals in his voyage toLochlins whither he had been invited by Starno the rather nf Aganricccas touched at Bcrmthons an island oi Scandinavias where he was kindly entertained by Larthmor the petty king of the places who was a vassal of thesopicrue kings of Lochlin. The hospitality of Larthmor gained him Fin gal's friendships which that hero manifested after tne imprisonment'of Larthmor by his own son ; by serving Ossian and Tosears the father of Malvinas so often mentioneds to rescoe Larthmors and to ponish the unnatural behaviour of I'thal. Uthal was handsomes auJ moch admired by the ladies. Nina-thoma the beautiful daughter of Torthomas d neightauring princes fell in love and fled with him He proved inconstant; for another ladys whose name is not mentioneds gaining his affectionss he confined Nimthoma to a desart island near the coast ui' hVnralhon. She was relieved by Osib-n.i whos in company with Tosears landing on Berriithons defeated the forces of Uthals and killed him in a singtecombat. Nina-thomas whose love not all the bad behaviour of Uthal could erases hearing of h!s deaths died of grief. In the mean times LKlii i oior is restoreds and Ossian and Tosear returned in triomph to Fingal. The present room opens with an elegy on the death of Malvinas the daughter of Tosears and closes with presages of the poet's death.

Bend thy blue course, O stream, round the narrow plain of Lutha*. Let the green woods hang over it from their mountains: and the son look on it at noon. The thistle is there on its rocks and shakes its beard to the wind. The flower hangs its heavy head, waving, at times to the gale. "Why dost thou awake me, 0 gale Ve it seems to say; " I am covered with the drops of heaven. The time of my fading is near, and th? blast that shall scatter my leaves. To-morrow shall the traveller comes he th2t saw me in my beautv shall come: bis eyes will search the fit-Id, but they will rot find me! so shall they search in vain for the voice o; Cona, after it has failed in the field. The hunter shall' come forth in the morning, and the voice of my harp shall not be heard. *l Where is the son of car-borne Fingal ? The tear will be on his cheek. Then come thou, O Malvina*, with all thy music, come; lay 0$

a Luthas i swift stream.' b Mal-mhinas i soft or lovely brow.' Mb hi the GaeUv langoage his the sac.c Iocsj wiib V U) English.

sian in the plain of Lutha: let his tomb rise in the lovely field.

Malvina '. where art thou with thy songs, with the ioft sound of thy step? Son' of Alpin art thou near? where is the daughter of Toscar ?" I passed, O son of Fingal, by Tarlutha's mossy walls. The smoke of the hall was ceased: silence was among the trees of the hill. The voice of the chase was over. I saw the daughters of the bow. I asked about Malvina, but they answered not. They turned their faces away: thin darkness covered their beauty. They were like stars on a rainy hill, by night, each looking faintly through her mist."

Pleasant* be thy rest, O lovely beam! soon hast thou set on our hills ! -The steps of thy departure were statelv, like the moon on the blue-trembling wave. But thou hast left us in darkness, first of the maids of Lutha! We sit at the rock, and there is no voice; no light but the meteor of fire! Soon hast thou set, Malvina, daughter of generous Toscar! But thou risest like the beam of the east, among the spirits of thy friends, where they sit in their stormy halls, the chambers of the thunder. A. cloud hovers over Cona: its blue-curling sides are high. The winds are beneath it, with their wings; within it is the dwelling of Fingal. There the hero sits in darkness; his airy spear is in his hand. His shield, half-covered with clouds, is like the darkened moon, when one half still remains in the wave, and the other looks sickly on the field.

His friends sit around the king, on mist; and hear the songs of Ullin: he strikes the half viewless harp; and raises the feeble voice. The lesser heroes, with a thousand meteors, light the airy hall. Malvina rises in the midst; a blush is on her cheek. She beholds

r Tradition has not handed down the name of this son of Alpin. His father was or,' of fingal's principal bards, and he appears himself to have had a poetical geuios.

4 ossian speaks. He calls Malvina a beam of light, and continues the metaphor, throughout the paragraph.

The description of this ideal palace of Pineal is very poetical, and agreeable to the, notions of those times, concermng the state of the deceased, who were sopposed to pursoe, after death, the pleasores and employments of their former life. The situation of Ossian's heroes, in their separate state, it not entirely happy, is more agreeable than the notions of the ancient Greeks concerning their departed haves, See. Horn. Od,s. i.Ii.

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