Dermid, make use of thy sword; son of Morny, wield thy steel. Would that I fell with thee! that my death came from the hand of Dermid !

They fought by the brook of the mountain, by the streams of Branno. Blood tinged the silvery stream, and curdled round the mossy stones. Dermid the graceful fell; fell, and smiled in death.

And fallest thou, son of Morny, fallest thou by Oscur's hand! Dermid invincible in war, thus do I see thee fall!-He went, and returned to the maid whom he loved; returned, but she perceived his grief.

Why that gloom, son of Oscian? what shades thy mighty soul?

Though once renowned for the bow, O maid, I have lost my fame. Fixed on a tree by the brook of the hill, is the shield of Gormur the brave, whom in battle I slew. I have wasted the day in vain, nor could my arrow pierce it.

Let me try, son of Oscian, the skill of Dargo's daughter. My hands were taught the bow: my father delighted in my skill.

She went. He stood behind the shield. Her arrow flew and pierced his breast".

Blessed be that hand of snow; and blessed thy bow of yew! I fall resolved on death: and who but the daughter of Dargo was worthy to slay me? Lay me in the earth, my fair one, lay me by the side of Dermid.

Oscur! I have the blood, the soul of the mighty Dargo.

Nothing was held by the ancient Highlanders more essential to their glory, than to die by the hand of some person worthy or renowned. This was the occasion of Oscur's contriving to be slain by his mistress, now that he was weary of life. In those early times, suicide was utterly unknown among that people, and no traces of it are found in the old poetry. Whence the translator suspects the account that follows of the daughter of Dargo killing herself, to be the interpolation of some later bard. MACPHER

SON.

Well pleased I can meet death. My sorrow I can end thus.-She pierced her white bosom with steel. She fell; she trembled; and died.

By the brook of the hill their graves are laid; a birch's unequal shade covers their tomb. Often on their green earthen tombs the branchy sons of the mountain feed, when mid-day is all in flames, and silence is over all the hills.

VIII.

By the side of a rock on the hill, beneath the aged tree, old Oscian sat on the moss; the last of the race of Fingal. Sightless are his aged eyes; his beard is waving in the wind. Dull through the leafless trees he heard the voice of the north. Sorrow revived in his soul: he began and lamented the dead.

How hast thou fallen like an oak, with all thy branches round thee! Where is Fingal the king? where is Oscur my son? where are all my race? Alas! in the earth they lic. I feel their tombs with my hands. muring hoarsely over the stones.

I hear the river below mur-
What dost thou, O river, to

me? Thou bringest back the memory of the past.

The race of Fingal stood on thy banks, like a wood in a fertile soil. Keen were their spears of steel. Hardy was he who dared to encounter their rage. Fillan the great was there. Thou Oscur wert there, my son! strong in the grey locks of years. and wide his shoulders spread. when the pride of his wrath arose. The son of Morny came; Gaul, the tallest of men. He stood

Fingal himself was there, Full rose his sinewy limbs; The unhappy met his arm,

on the hill like an oak! his voice was like the streams of the hill. Why reigneth alone, he cries, the son of the mighty Corval? Fingal is not strong to save; he is no support for the people. I am strong as a storm in the ocean; as a whirlwind on the hill. Yield, son of Corval; Fingal, yield to me. He came like a rock from the hill, resounding in his arms. Oscur stood forth to meet him; my son would meet the foe. But Fingal came in his strength, and smiled at the vaunter's boast. They threw their arms round each other; they struggled on the plain. The earth is ploughed with their heels. Their bones crack as a boat on the ocean, when it leaps from wave to wave. Long did they toil; with night, they fell on the sounding plain; as two oaks, with their branches mingled, fall crashing from the hill. The tall son of Morny is bound; the aged overcame.

Fair with her locks of gold, her smooth neck, and her breasts of snow; fair, as the spirits of the hill when at silent noon they glide along the heath; fair, as the rainbow of heaven; came Minvane the maid. Fingal! she softly saith, loose me my brother Gaul. Loose me the hope of my race, the terror of all but Fingal. Can I, replies the king, can I deny the lovely daughter of the hill? Take thy brother, O Minvane, thou fairer than the snow of the north!

Such, Fingal! were thy words; but thy words I hear no more. Sightless I sit by thy tomb. I hear the wind in the wood; but no more I hear my friends. The cry of the hunter is over. The voice of war is ceased.

IX.

THOU askest, fair daughter of the isles! whose memory is preserved in these tombs? The memory of Ronnan the bold, and Connan the chief of men; and of her, the fairest of maids, Rivine the lovely and the good. The wing of time is laden with care. Every moment hath woes of its own. Why seek we our grief from afar! or give our tears to those of other times? But thou commandest, and I obey, O fair daughter of the isles!

Conar was mighty in war. Caul was the friend of strangers. His gates were open to all; midnight darkened not on his barred door. Both lived upon the sons of the mountains. Their bow was the support of the poor.

Connan was the image of Conar's soul. Caul was renewed in Ronnan his son. Rivine the daughter of Conar was the love of Ronnan; her brother Connan was his friend. She was fair as the harvest moon setting in the seas of Molochasquir. Her soul was settled on Ronnan; the youth was the dream of her nights.

Rivine, my love! says Ronnan, I go to my king in Norway7. A year and a day shall bring me back. Wilt thou be true to Ronnan?

Ronnan a year and a day I will spend in sorrow. Ronnan, behave like a man, and my soul shall exult in thy valour. Connan my friend, says Ronnan, wilt thou preserve Rivine thy sister? Durstan is in love with the maid; and soon shall the sea bring the stranger to our coast.

7 Supposed to be Fergus II. This Fragment is reckoned not altogether so ancient as most of the rest. MACPHERSON.

Ronnan, I will defend: Do thou securely go. He went. He returned on his day. But Durstan returned before him.

Give me thy daughter, Conar, says Durstan; or fear and feel my power.

He who dares attempt my sister, says Connan, must meet this edge of steel. Unerring in battle is my arm my sword, as the lightning of heaven.

Ronnan the warrior came; and much he threatened Dur

stan.

But, saith Euran the servant of gold, Ronnan! by the gate of the north shall Durstan this night carry thy fair one away. Accursed, answers Ronnan, be this arm if death meet him not there.

Connan! saith Euran, this night shall the stranger carry thy sister away. My sword shall meet him, replies Connan, and he shall lie low on earth.

The friends met by night, and they fought. Blood and sweat ran down their limbs as water on the mossy rock.

Connan falls;

and cries, O Durstan, be favourable to Rivine! And is it my friend, cries Ronnan, I have slain? O Connan! I knew thee

not.

He went, and he fought with Durstan. Day began to rise on the combat, when fainting they fell, and expired. Rivine came out with the morn; and, O what detains my Ronnan! She saw him lying pale in his blood; and her brother lying pale by his side. What could she say? what could she do? her complaints were many and vain. She opened this grave for the warriors; and fell into it herself, before it was closed; like the sun snatched away in a storm.

Thou has heard this tale of grief, O fair daughter of the isles! Rivine was fair as thyself: shed on her grave a tear.