lands, is nigh: the friend *) of ftrangers in Atha, the troubler of the field. High, from their mifty hills, look forth the blue eyes of Erin; for he is far away, young dweller of their fouls. Nor, harmlefs, white hands of Erin is he in the fkirts of war; he rolls ten thousand before him, in his diftant field. Not unfeen by Offian, I faid, I faid, rushed Cathmor from his ftreams, when he poured his ftrength on I-thorno **), ifle of many waves.

*) Cathmor, the fon of Borbar - duthul.

In

It would

appear, from the partiality with which Sul - mal-
la fpeaks of that hero, that she had feen him,,
previous to his joining her father's army; tho'
tradition pofitively asferts, that it was, after his
return, that she fell in love with him.

**) I-thorno, fays tradition, was an ifland of Scan-
dinavia. In it, at a hunting party, met Cul-
gorm and Suran- drónlo, the kings of two neigh-
bouring ifles. They differed about the honour
of killing a boar; and a war was kindled be-"
tween them.
From this epifode we may
learn, that the manners of the Scandinavians we-
re much more favage and cruel, than thofe of
Britain.
It is remarkable, that the names,
introduced in this ftory, are not of Galic original,
which circunftance affords room to fuppofe,
that it had its foundation in true history.

In ftrife met two kings in I-thorno, Culgorm and Suran-drónlo: each from his ecchoing ifle,、 ftern hunters of the boar!

They met a boar, at a foamy ftream: each pierced it with his feel. They ftrove for the fame of the deed: and gloomy battle rofe. From ifle to ifle they fent a fpear, broken and ftained with blood, to call the friends of their fa thers, in their founding arms. Cathmor came, from Bolga, to Culgorm, red-eyed king: I aided Suran - drónlo, in his land of boars.

We rushed on either fide of a ftream, which roared thro' a blafted heath. High broken rocks were round, with all their bending trees. Near are two circles of Loda, with the ftone of power; where fpirits defcended, by night, in dark-red ftreams of fire. There, mixed with the murmur of waters, rofe the voice of aged men, they called the forms of night, to aid them in their war.

*) Heedlcfs I ftood, with my people, where fell the foamy ftream from rocks. The moon moved

*) From the circumftance of Offian not being prefent at the rites, defcribed in the preceding para

moved red from the mountain. My fong, at times, arofe. Dark on the other fide, young Cathmor heard my voice; for he lay, beneath the oak, in all his gleaming arms. Morn

ing came; we rufhed to fight: from wing to wing, in the rolling of ftrife. They fell, like the thistle head, beneath autumnal winds.

In armour came a ftately form: I mixed my ftrokes with the king. By turns our fhields are pierced: loud rung our fteely mails. His helmet fell to the ground. In brightness fhone the foe. His eyes, two pleasant flames, rolled between his wandering locks. I knew the king of Atha, and threw my fpear on earth. Dark, we turned, and filent paffed to mix with other foes.

Not

graph, we may fuppofe that he held them in contempt. This difference of fentiment, with regard to religion, is a fort of argument, that the Caledonians were not originally a colony of Scandinavians, as fome have imagined. Concerning fo remote a period, mere conjecture must fupply the place of argument and pofitive proofs.

H

Not fo paffed the striving kings). They mixed in ecchoing fray: like the meeting of ghofts, in the dark wing of winds. Thro' ei ther breast rushed the fpears; nor yet lay the foes on earth. A rock received their fall; and half-reclined they lay in death. Each held the lock of his foe; and grimly feemed to roll his eyes. The ftream of the rock leapt on their fhields, and mixed below with blood.

The battle ceafed in I-thorno. The ftrangers met in peace: Cathmor from Atha of ftreams, and Offian, king of harps. We placed the dead in earth. Our steps were by Rúnar's bay. With the bounding boat, afar, advanced a ridgy wave. Dark was the rider of feas, but a beam of light was there, like the ray of the fun, in Stromlo's rolling fmoak. It was the daugh

*) Culgorm and Suran-dronio. The combat of the
kings and their attitude in death are highly pic-
turesque, and expreffive of that ferocity of man-
ners, which diftinguifhed the northern nations.
The wild melody of the verfification of the ori-
ginal, is inimitably beautiful, and very different
from the reft of the works of Offian.

daughter *) of Suran-drónlo, wild in brightned looks. Her eyes were wandering flames, amidst

dis

*) Tradition has handed down the name of this princefs. The bards call her Runo - forlo, which has no other fort of title for being genuine, But its not being of Galic original; a distinction, which the bards had not the art to preferve, when they feigned names for foreigners. The highland - fe nachies, who very often endeavoured to fupply the deficiency, they thought they found in the tales of Offian, have given us the continuation of the ftory of the daughter of Suran-drónlo. The catastrophe is fo unnatural, and the circumtances of it fo ridiculously pompous, that for the fake of the inventors, I fhall conceal them.

The wildly-beautiful appearance of Runo- forlo, made a deep impreflion on a chief, some ages ago, who was himself no contemptible poet. The story is romantic, but not incredible, if we make allowances for the lively imagination of a iman of genius. Our chief failing, in a ftorm › along one of the islands of Orkney; faw a wonan, in a boat, near the shore, whom he thought, as he expreffes it himself, as beautiful as a fudden ray of the fun, on the dark-heaving deep. The verfes of Offian, on the attitude of