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on that low-hung cloud; turn his dark ships from the rock, thou rider of the storm!”

Such were the words of Cuthullin at the sound of the mountain.stream ; when Calmar ascended the hill, the wounded son of Matha. From the field he came in his blood. He leaned on his bending spear. Feeble is the arm of battle! but strong the soul of the hero! “ Welcome! O sor of Matha,” said Connal, “ wel. come art thou to thy friends! Why bursts that broken igh, from the breast of him who never feared before? Ind never, Connal, will he fear chief of the pointed ee! My soul brightens in danger : in the noise of ms. I am of the race of battle. My fathers never ired." “ Cormar was the first of my race. He sported o'the storms of waves. His black skiff bounded ocean; he travelled on the wings of the wind. spirit once embroiled the night. Seas swell, and is resound. Winds drive along the clouds. The ning flies on wings of fire. He feared, and came and: then blushed that he feared at all. He rushain among the waves to find the son of the wind.

forsook the air. The moon and stars returned! Such was the boldness of my race. Calmar is like his fathers. Danger flies from the lifted sword. They best succeed who dare !

“ But now, ye sons of green Erin, retire from Lena's bloody heath. Collect the sad remnant of our friends, and join the sword of Fingal. I heard the sound of Lochlin's advancing arms ! Calmar will remain and fight. My voice shall be such, my friends, as if thousands were behind me. But, son of Semo, remember me. Remember Calmar's lifeless corse. When Fingal shall have wasted the field, place me by some stone of remembrance, that future times may hear my fame; that the mother of Calmar may rejoice in my renown.”

“No: son of Matha,” said Cuthullin, “ I will never leave thee here. My joy is in unequal fight : my soul increases in danger. Connal, and Carril of other times, carry off the sad sons of Erin. When the battle is over, search for us in this narrow way. For near this oak we shall fall, in the stream of the battle of thousands !” “O Fithil's son, with flying speed rush over the heath of Lena. Tell to Fingal that Erin is fallen. Bid the king of Morven come. O let him come, like the sun in a storm, to lighten, to restore the isle!"

Morning is grey on Cromla. The sons of the sea ascend. Calmar stood forth to meet them in the pride of his kindling soul. But pale was the face of the

youths guide the bounding bark; he stood with i unsheathed. When the low-hung vapour i he took it by the curling head. He searched k womb with his steel. The sun of the wind

arriors, who were supposed in those times to rule the and to transport themselves in a gust of wind from one o another.

chief. He leaned on his father's spear. That spear which he brought from Lara, when the soul of his mother was sad ; the soul of the lonely Alcletha, waining in the sorrow of years. But slowly now the hero falls, like a tree on the plain. Dark Cuthullin stands alone like a rock in a sandy vale. The sea comes with its waves, and roars on its hardened sides. Its head is covered with foam ; the hills are echoing around.

Now from the grey mist of the ocean, the whitesailed ships of Fingal appear. High is the grove of their masts, as they nod, by turns, on the rolling wave. Swaran saw them from the hill. He returned from the sons of Erin. As ebbs the resounding sea, through the hundred isles of Inistore; so loud, so vast, so immense returned the sons of Lochlin against the king. But bending, weeping, sad, and slow, and dragging his long spear behind, Cuthullin sunk in Cromla's wood, and mourned his fallen friends. He feared the face of Fingal, who was wont to greet him from the fields of renown!

“ How many lie there of my heroes! the chiefs of Erin's race ! they that were cheerful in the hall, when the sound of the shells arose ! No more shall I find their steps in the heath. No more shall I hear their voice in the chace. Pale, silent, low on bloody beds, are they who were my friends! O spirits of the lately dead, meet Cuthullin on his heath! Speak to him on the wind, when the rustling tree of Tura's

chief. He leaned on his father's spear. That spear which he brought from Lara, when the soul of his mother was sad; the soul of the lonely Alcletha, waining in the sorrow of years. But slowly now the herv falls, like a tree on the plain. Dark Cuthullin stands alone like a rock in a sandy vale. The sea comes with its waves, and roars on its hardened sides. Its head is covered with foam ; the hills are echoing around.

Now from the grey mist of the ocean, the whiteailed ships of Fingal appear. High is the grove of eir masts, as they nod, by turns, on the rolling ave. Swaran saw them from the hill. He returned om the sons of Erin. As ebbs the resounding sea, rough the hundred isles of Inistore; so loud, so st, so immense returned the sons of Lochlin against

king. But bending, weeping, sad, and slow, dragging his long spear behind, Cuthullin sunk Fromla's wood, and mourned his fallen friends. feared the face of Fingal, who was wont to greet from the fields of renown! How many lie there of my heroes! the chiefs in’s race ! they that were cheerful in the hall, the sound of the shells arose ! No more shall their steps in the heath. No more shall I hear oice in the chace. Pale, silent, low on bloody are they who were my friends! O spirits of the Tead, meet Cuthullin on his heath! Speak to the wind, when the rustling tree of Tura's

cave resounds. There, far remote, I shall lie unknown. No bard shall hear of me. No grey stone shall rise to my renown. Mourn me with the dead, O Bragela ! departed is my fame.” Such were the words of Cuthullin, when he sunk in the woods of Cromla!

Fingal, tall in his ship, stretched his bright lance before him. Terrible was the gleam of the steel : it was like the green meteor of death, setting in the heath of Malmor, when the traveller is alone, and the broad moon is darkened in heaven. .

“ The battle is past,” said the king. “I behold the blood of my friends. Sad is the heath of Lena ! mournful the oaks of Cromla! The hunters have fallen in their strength : the son of Semo is no more. Ryno and Fillan, my sons, sound the horn of Fingal. Ascend that hill on the shore; call the children of the foe. Call them from the grave of Lamdarg, the chief of other times. Be your voice like that of your father, when he enters the battles of his strength. I wait for the mighty stranger. I wait on Lena's shore for Swaran. Let him come with all his race; strong in battle are the friends of the dead !"

Fair Ryno as lightning gleamed along : Dark Fillan rushed like the shade of autumn. On Lena's heath their voice is heard. The sons of Ocean heard the horn of Fingal. As the roaring eddy of ocean returning from the kingdom of snows; so strong, so dark, so sudden came down the sons of Lochlin. The

king in their front appears, in the dismal pride of his arms! Wrath burns on his dark-brown face : his eyes roll in the fire of his valour. Fingal beheld the son of Starno: he remembered Agandecca. For Swaran with the tears of youth had mourned his white-bosomed sister. He sent Ullin of songs to bid him to the feast of shells : for pleasant on Fingal's soul returned the memory of the first of his loves !

Ullin came with aged steps, and spoke to Starno's son. “O thou that dwellest afar, surrounded, like a rock, with thy waves ! come to the feast of the king, and pass the day in rest. To-morrow let us fight, o Swaran, and break the echoing shields.” “ To-day,” said Starno's wrathful son, “we break the echoing shields: to-morrow my feast shall be spread; but Fingal shall lie on earth.” “ To-morrow let his feast be spread,” said Fingal with a smile. “ To-day, O my sons ! we shall break the echoing shields. Ossian, stand thou near my arm. Gaul, lift thy terrible sword. Fergus, bend thy crooked yew. Throw, Fillan, thy lance through heaven. Lift your shields, like the darkened moon. Be your spears the meteors of death. Follow me in the path of my fame. Equal my deeds in battle.”

As a hundred winds on Morven; as the streams of a hundred hills; as clouds fly successive over heaven; as the dark ocean assails the shore of the desert : so roaring, so vast, so terrible the armies mixed on Lena's echoing heath. The groan of the people spread

ng in their front appears, in the dismal pride of his ns! Wrath burns on his dark brown face : his *s roll in the fire of his valour. Fingal beheld the 1 of Starno: he remembered Agandecca. For arau with the tears of youth had mourned his ite-bosomed sister. He sent Ullin of songs to bid

to the feast of shells : for pleasant on Fingal's returned the memory of the first of his loves ! llin came with aged steps, and spoke to Starno's

O thou that dwellest afar, surrounded, like *, with thy waves ! come to the feast of the - and pass the day in rest. To-morrow let us

Swaran, and break the echoing shields." day,” said Starno's wrathful son, “ we break

hoing shields : to-morrow my feast shall be 1; but Fingal shall lie on earth.” To-mort his feast be spread,” said Fingal with a smile. Flay, O my sons ! we shall break the echoing · Ossian, stand thou near my arm. Gaul, - terrible sword. Fergus, bend thy crooked "hrow, Fillan, thy lance through heaven. Lift Felds, like the darkened moon. Be your spears Pors of death. Follow me in the path of my Equal my deeds in battle.” hundred winds on Morven; as the streams of d hills; as clouds fly successive over heaven ; rk ocean assails the shore of the desert : so

so vast, so terrible the armies mixed on hoing heath. The groan of the people spread

over the hills: it was like the thunder of night, when the cloud bursts on Cona; and a thousand ghosts shriek at once on the hollow wind. Fingal rushed on in his strength, terrible as the spirit of Trenmor; when, in a whirlwind, he comes to Morven, to see the children of his pride. The oaks resound on their mountains, and the rocks fall down before him. Dimly seen, as lightens the night, he strides largely from hill to hill. Bloody was the hand of my father, when he whirled the gleam of his sword. He remembers the battles of his youth. The field is wasted in his course !

Ryno went on like a pillar of fire. Dark is the brow of Gaul. Fergus rushed forward with feet of wind. Fillan like the mist of the hill. Ossian, like a rock, came down. I exulted in the strength of the king. Many were the deaths of my arm! dismal the gleam of my sword ! My locks were not then so grey ; nor trembled my hands with age. My eyes were not closed in darkness; my feet failed not in the race !

Who can relate the deaths of the people? Who the deeds of mighty heroes? when Fingal, burning in his wrath, consumed the sons of Lochlin ? groans swelled on groans from hill to hill, till night had covered all. Pale, staring like a herd of deer, the sons of Lochlin convene on Lena. We sat and heard the sprightly harp, at Lubar's gentle stream. Fingal himself was next to the foe. He listened to the tales of his bards. His godlike race were in the song, the chiefs of other times. Attentive, leaning on his shield,

VOL. II.

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