But never more shall Oscar rise! He leans on his bossy shield. His spear is in his terrible hand. Erin's sons stand distant and dark. Their shouts arise, like crowded streams. Moi-lena echoes wide. Fingal heard the sound. He took the spear of Selma. His steps are before us on the heath. He spoke the words of woe. hear the noise of war. Young Oscar is alone. Rise, sons of Morven; join the hero's sword!" "I Ossian rushed along the heath. Fillan bounded over Moi-lena. Fingal strode in his strength. The light of his shield is terrible. The sons of Erin saw it far distant. They trembled in their souls. They knew that the wrath of the king arose; and they foresaw their death. We first arrived. We fought. Erin's chiefs withstood our rage. But when the king came, in the sound of his course, what heart of steel could stand! Erin fled over Moi-lena. Death pursued their "When the green vallied Erin shakes its mountains from sea to sea." An additional imitation, first inserted in the improved edition; from below, ii. 10. flight. We saw Oscar on his shield. We saw the blood around. Silence darkened every face. Each turned his back and wept. The king strove to hide his tears. His grey beard whist led in the wind. He bends his head above the chief. His words are mixed with sighs ". "Art thou fallen, O Oscar, in the midst of thy course? the heart of the aged beats over thee! He sees thy coming wars! The wars which ought to come he sees! They are cut off from thy fame! When shall joy dwell at Selma? When shall grief depart from Morven? My sons fall by degrees: Fingal is the last of his race. My fame begins to pass away. Mine age will be without friends. I shall sit a grey cloud 16 His words are mixed with sighs.] "Words interwove with sighs." MILTON, Par. Lost, i.620. "Words mixed with sighs." POPE'S Iliad, ix. 22. Infra, v. 22. But the silent grief of the host, and the tears of Fingal, are transcribed from the grief of the Prussians, and the tears of Frederick, in MACPHERSON'S Verses on the Death of Marshal Keith. · 17 The heart of the aged beats over thee.] A pathetic expression from the Irish ballad. "Oscar, my beloved, beloved by my beloved, son of my son, mild and valiant, my heart pants over thee like a blackbird! Never more shall Oscar rise." YOUNG'S Translation. Transactions of the Royal Irish Academy, i. 118. in my hall. I shall not hear the return of a son, in his sounding arms. Weep, ye heroes of Morven! never more shall Oscar rise 18!" And they did weep, O Fingal! Dear was the hero to their souls. He went out to battle, and the foes vanished. He returned, in peace, amidst their joy. No father mourned his son slain in youth no brother his brother of love. They fell, without tears '; for the chief of the people is low! Bran is howling at his feet: gloomy Luäth is sad, for he had often led them to the chace; to the bounding roe of the desert! 19 When Oscar saw his friends around, his heaving breast arose. "The groans," he said, "of aged chiefs: The howling of my dogs: The sudden bursts of the song of grief, have melted Oscar's soul. My soul, that never melted before. 18 Never more shall Oscar rise.] Supra, 17. 19 No father mourneth his son slain in youth: no brother his brother of love: they fell without tears, &c.] Another pathetic passage from the Irish ballad. "No mother lamented her son, nor one brother for another; but each of us that was present wept for Oscar." Id. 116. 20 The groans, he said, of the aged chiefs: The howling of my dogs: The sudden bursts of the song of grief, have melted Oscar's soul.] From the Ballad. "The howling of the dogs by our side; the groans of the aged chiefs; the lamentations of all 22 It was like the steel of my sword. Ossian, carry me to my hills! Raise the stones of my renown. Place the horn of a deer; place my sword by my side. The torrent hereafter may raise the earth the hunter may find the steel "1, and say, "This has been Oscar's sword, the pride of **!" Fallest thou, son of years my fame! Shall I never see thee, Oscar! When others hear of their sons, shall I not hear of thee? The moss is on thy four grey stones. The mournful wind is there. The battle shall be fought without thee. Thou shalt not pursue the dark-brown hinds. When the warrior returns from battles, other the Fions it was this that afflicted my heart." Ibid. And in some copies of the Ballad: "No man ever believed that your heart was not a heart of deer's horn, encompassed with steel :" Id. 47. Converted in the Temora into, "My soul, that never melted before. It was like the steel of my sword." 21 The torrent hereafter may raise the earth: the hunter may find the steel.] Virg. Georg. i. 493. See Carric-Thura, 42, Scilicet et tempus veniet, quum finibus illis, Agricola incurvo terram molitus aratro, Exesa inveniet scabra rubigine pila. 12 The pride of other years.] Not in the first edition, but adopted from the Night-piece. Here, hoar tradition tells, repose Two youths, the dread of Albion's foes, Of other times the grace and pride. and tells of other lands; "I have seen a tomb," he will say, "by the roaring stream, the dark dwelling of a chief. He fell by car-borne Oscar, the first of mortal men *3." I, perhaps, shall 23 He fell by car-borne Oscar, the first of mortal men.] The whole passage is a painful imitation of Hector's challenge to the Greeks in the Iliad, vii. 86. ΣΗΜΑ τέ οἱ χεύσωσιν ΕΠΙ ΠΛΑΤΕΙ ΕΛΛΗΣΠΟΝΤΩ. Νηῒ πολυκλήϊδι πλέων ἐπὶ οἴνοπα πόντον ̓ΑΝΔΡΟΣ μὲν τόδε ΣΗΜΑ πάλαι ΚΑΤΑΤΕΘΝΗΩΤΟΣ, Which, when some future mariner surveys, Washed by broad Hellespont's resounding seas, By Hector slain, the mighty man of war: The stone shall tell your vanquished hero's name, POPE. "When the warrior returns from battles, and tells of other lands; I have seen a tomb,' he will say, 'by the roaring stream, the dark dwelling of a chief. He fell by car-borne Oscar, the first of mortal men.' I perhaps shall hear his voice. A beam of joy will rise in my soul." Or, as translated in MACPHERSON'S Homer, i. 198. "This the memorial remains: The tomb of a chief slain of old: Who, contending in the glorious strife, fell by illustrious Hector's spear." Thus hereafter some warrior will say: And never shall perish my fame. |