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my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise ? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands ! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me; hear my voice ; hear me, sons of my love! They are silent ; silent for ever! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay! Oh! from the rock on the hill ; from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead ! speak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are ye gone to rest ? In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed ? No feeble voice is on the gale : no answer half-drowned in the storm!

I sit in my grief ! I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream : why should I stay behind ? Here shall I rest with my friends, by the stream of the sounding rock. When

right comes on the hill, when the loud winds arise ; my ghost shall stand in the blast, and mourn the death f my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth. le shall fear but love my voice! For sweet shall my bice be for my friends : pleasant were her friends to olma!

had rested in the narrow house: their voice had ceased in Selma. Ullin had returned, one day, from the chace, before the heroes fell. He heard their strife on the hill; their song was soft but sad! They mourned the fall of Morar, first of mortal men! His soul was like the soul of Fingal ; his sword like the sword of Oscar. But he fell, and his father mourned: his sister's eyes were full of tears. Minona's eyes were full of tears, the sister of car-borne Morar. She retired from the song of Ullin, like the moon in the west, when she foresees the shower, and hides her fair head in a cloud. I touched the harp, with Ullin; the song of mourning rose !

RYNO. The wind and the rain are past: calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant sun. Red through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs, O stream ! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin, the son of song, mourning for the dead! Bent is his head of age; red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou son of song, why alone on the silent hill ? why complainest thou, as a blast in the wood; as a wave on the lonely shore?

ALPIN. My tears, O Ryno ! are for the dead ; my voice for those that have passed away. Tall thou art on the hill; fair among the sons of the vale. But thou shalt

Such was thy song, Minona, softly-blushing daugh

of Torman. Our tears descended for Colma, and • souls were sad! Ullin came with his harp; he e the song of Alpin. The voice of Alpin was plea: the soul of Ryno was a beam of fire ! But they

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fall like Morar;* the mourner shall sit on thy tomb, The hills shall know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in the hall, unstrung!

Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a roe on the desert; terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the storm. Thy sword in battle, as lightning in the field. Thy voice was a stream after rain ; like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm; they were consumed in the flames of thy wrath. But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow ! Thy face was like the sun after rain ; like the moon in the silence of night; calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid.

Narrow is thy dwelling now! dark the place of thine abode ! With three steps I compass thy grave, O thou who wast so great before! Four stones, with their heads of moss, are the only memorial of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass, which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love.. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan.

Who on his staff is this? who is this, whose head is white with age? whose eyes are red with tears ? who quakes at every step? It is thy father, t O Mo

• Mór-ér, great man. t Torman the sun of Carthul, lord of l-mora, one of the western isles.

fall like Morar;* the mourner shall sit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in the ball, unstrung !

Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a roe on the desert; . terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the storm. Thy sword in battle, as lightning in the field. Thy voice was a stream after rain ; like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm; they were consumed in the flames of thy wrath. But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face was like the sun after rain ; like the moon in the silence of night; calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid.

Narrow is thy dwelling now! dark the place of thine abode ! With three steps I compass thy grave, ( thou who wast so great before! Four stones, with their heads of moss, are the only memorial of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass, which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her ears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth.

allen is the daughter of Morglan. - Who on his staff is this? who is this, whose head

rar! the father of no son but thee. He heard of thy fame in war; he heard of foes dispersed. He heard of Morar's renown'; why did he not hear of his wound? Weep, thou father of Morar! weep; but thy son heareth thee not. Deep is the sleep of the dead; low their pillow of dust. No more shall he hear thy voice; no more awake at thy call. When shall it be morn in the grave, to bid the slumberer awake ? Farewel, thou bravest of men! thou 'conqueror in the field ! but the field shall see thee no. more ; nor the dark wood be lightened with the splendor of thy steel. Thou hast left no son. The song shall preserve thy name. Future times shall hear of thee; they shall hear of the fallen Morar! · The grief of all arose, but most the bursting sigh of Armin.* He remembers the death of his son, who fell in the days of his youth. Carinor + was near the hero, the chief of the echoing Galmal. Why bursts the sigh of Armin, he said ? Is there a cause to mourn? The song comes, with its 'music, to melt and please the soul. It is like soft mist, that, rising from a lake, pours on the silent vale; the green flowers are filled with dew, but the sun returns in his strength, and the mist is gone.' Why' art thou sad, O Armin ! chief of sea-surrounded Gorina?

Sad! I am ! nor small is my cause of woe! Car

white with age? whose eyes are red with tears ? ho quakes at every step? It is thy father, 7 O Mo-.

* Armin, a hero. He was chief or petty king of Gorma, 2. e. the blue island, supposed to be one of the Hebrides.

of Cear-mór, a tall dark-complexioned man.

* Mór-ér, great man. · Torman the sun of Carthul, lord of 1-mora, one of the tern isles.

mor, thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty. Colgar the valiant lives; and Annira fairest maid. The boughs of thy house ascend, O Carmor! But Armin is the last of his race. Dark is thy bed, O Daura ! deep thy sleep in the tomb ! When shalt thou awake with thy songs ? with all thy voice of music?

Arise, winds of autumn, arise; blow along the heath! streams of the mountains roar ! roar, tempests, in the groves of my oaks ! walk through broken clouds, O moon ! show thy pale face, at intervals ! bring to my mind the night, when all my children fell; when Arindal the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely failed! Daura, my daughter! thou wert fair ; fair as the moon on Fura ;* white as the driven snow; sweet as the breathing gale. Arindal, thy bow was strong. Thy spear was swift in the field. Thy look was like mist on the wave: thy shield, a red cloud in a storm. Armar, renowned in war, came, and sought Daura's love. He was not long refused : fair was the hope of their friends!

Erath, son of Odgal, repined: his brother had been slain by Armor. He came disguised like a son of the sea : fair was his skiff on the wave; white his locks of age; calm his serious brow. Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Armin ! a rock not distant in the sea, bears a tree on its side; red shines the fruit afar ! There Armor waits for Daura.

* Fuar-a, cold island.

mor, thou hast lost no son ; thou hast lost no daugh. ter of beauty. Colgar the valiant lives; and Annira fairest maid. The boughs of thy house ascend, O Carmor ! But Armin is the last of his race. Dark is thy bed, 0 Daura ! deep thy sleep in the tomb! When shalt thou awake with thy songs ? with all thy voice of music?

Arise, winds of autumn, arise; blow along the heath! streams of the mountains roar ! roar, tempests, in the groves of my oaks ! walk through broken clouds, O moon ! show thy pale face, at intervals ! bring to my mind the night, when all my children fell; when Arindal the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely failed! Daura, my daughter! thou wert fair ; fair as the moon on Fura ;* white as the driven snow; sweet as the breathing gale. Arindal, thy bow was strong. Thy spear was swift in the field. Thy look was like mist on the wave: thy shield, a red cloud in a storm. Armar, renowned in war, came, and sought Daura's love. He was not long refused : fair

I come to carry his love ! She went; she called on Armar. Nought answered, but the son * of the rock, Armor, my love! my love ! why tormentest thou me with fear? hear, son of Arnart, hear : it is Daura who calleth thee! Erath the traitor filed laughing to the land. She lifted up her voice ; she called for her brother and her father. Arindal! Armin! none to relieve your Daura !

Her voice came over the sea. Arindal my son descended from the hill; rough in the spoils of the chace. His arrows rattled by his side ; his bow was in his hand : five dark grey dogs attend his steps. He saw fierce Erath on the shore : he seized and bound him to an oak. Thick wind the thongs t of the hide around his limbs ; he loads the wind with his groans. Arindal ascends the deep in his boat, to bring Daura to land. Armar came in his wrath, and let fly the grey-feathered shaft. It sung; it sunk in thy heart, O Arindal my son ! for Erath the traitor thou diedst. The oar is stopped at once ; he panted on the rock and expired. What is thy grief, O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood ! The boat is broken in twain. Armar plunges into the sea,

was the hope of their friends! - Erath, son of Odgal, repined: his brother had

een slain by Armor. He came disguised like a son f the sca: fair was his skiff' on the wave; white his ncks of age; calm his serious brow. Fairest of omen, he said, lovely daughter of Armin ! a rock it distant in the sea, bears a tree on its side; red ines the fruit afar ! There Armor waits for Daura.

* Fuar-a, cold island.

* By the son of the rock the poet means the echoing back of the human voice from a rock. The vulgar were of opinion, that this repetition of sound was made by a spirit within the rock ; and they, on that account, called it mac talla; the son who dwells in the rock.

of The poet here only means that Erath was bound with leathern thongs.

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