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fhielded Trenmor is ftill feen, amidst his own dim years. Nor feeble was the foul of the king. There, no dark deed wandered in fe cret. From their hundred ftreams came the tribes, to graffy Colglan- crona. Their chiefs were before them. Each ftrove to lead the war Their fwords 'were often half-un! fheated. Red rolled their eyes of rage. Sepa rate they food, and hummed their furly fongs. "Why fhould they yield to each other?

their fathers were equal in war.

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Trenmor

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did fo, but they were unfuccefsful. When it ca
me to Tremor's turn, he, totally defeated the
enemy, by his fuperior valour and conduct; which
gained him fuch an intereft among the tribes,
that he, and his family after him, were regard-
ed as kings; or,
to use the poet's expreffion,
the words of power rushed. forth from Selma of
kings. The regal authority, however, ex-
cept in time of war, was but inconfiderable;
for every chief, within his own district was ab-
folute and independent.
From the fcene of
the battle in this episode (which was in the vals
ley of Crona, a little to the north of Agricola's
wall) Ifhould fuppofe, that the enemies of the
Caledonians were the Romans, or provincial
Britons.

Trenmor was there, with his people, ftate ly in youthful locks. He faw the advancing foe. The grief of his foul arofe. He bade the chiefs to lead, by turns: they led, but they were rolled away. From his own mossy hill, blue-fhielded Trenmor came down. He led wide-fkirted battle, and the ftrangers failed. Around him the dark-browed warriors came: they ftruck the fhield of joy. Like a pleafant gale, the words of power rushed forth from Selma of kings. But the chiefs led, by turns, in war, till mighty danger rofe: then was the hour of the king, to conquer in the field.

"Not unknown, faid Cromma-glas *) of fhields, are the deeds of our fathers.

But

who

*) In tradition, this Cromma-glas makes a great

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figure in that battle, which Comhal lost, together

with his life, to the tribe of Morni. I have just now, in my hands, an Irifh compofition, of a very modern date, as appears from the language, in which all the traditions, concerning that decisive engagement, are jumbled together. In juftice to the merit of the poem, I fhould have here presented to the reader a translation of it, did

not

who fhall now lead the war, before the race of kings? Mift fettles on thefe four dark hills; within it let each warrior ftrike his fhield, Spirits may defcend in darkness, and mark us for the war." They went, each to his

hill

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not the bard mention fome circumstances very ridiculous, and others altogether indecent. Morna, the wife of Comhal, had a principal hand in all the transactions previous to the defeat and death of her husband; fhe, to use the words of the bard, who was the guiding star of the women of Erin. The bard, it is to be hoped, misreprefented the ladies of his country: for Morna's behaviour was, according to him, fo void of all decency and virtue, that it cannot be supposed, they had chofen her for their guiding star!

The poem confifts of many. ftanzas. The lan guage is figurative, and the numbers harmonious; but the piece is fo full of anachronisms, and so unequal in its compofition, that the author, moft undoubtedly, was either mad, or drunk, when he wrote it.

It is worthy of being remarked, that Comhal is, in this poem, very often called, Comhal na h’Aibin, or Comhal of Albin; which fufficiently demonftrates, that the allegations of Keating and O'Flaherty, con cerning Fion Mac Combal, are but of late invention.

hill of mift.

Bards marked the founds of the fhields. Loudeft rung thy bofs, Duth - maruno. Thou must lead in war.

Like the murmur of waters, the race of U-thorno came down. Starno led the battle, and Swaran of ftormy ifles. They looked forward from iron fhields, like Cruth-loda fieryeyed, when he looks from behind the darkened moon, and ftrews his figns on night.

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The foes met by Turthor's ftream. They heaved like ridgy waves. Their ecchoing ftrokes are mixed. Shadowy death flies over the hofts. They were clouds of hail, with fqually winds in their fkirts. Their fhowers are roaring together. Below them fwells the darkrolling deep.

Strife of gloomy U-thorno, why fhould I mark thy wounds? Thou art with the years that are gone; thou fadeft on my foul. Starno brought forward his fkirt of war, and Swaran dark wing. Nor a harmless fire is Lochlin is rolled

his

Own

Duth maruno's fword.

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over her ftreams. The wrathful kings are folded in thoughts. They roll their filent eyes,

over the flight of their land.

The horn

of Fingal was heard: the fons of woody Albin returned. But many lay, by Turthor's ftream, filent in their blood.

Chief of Crom-charn, faid the king, Duthmaruno, hunter of boars! not harmlefs returns my eagle, from the field of foes. For this white-bofomed Lanul fhall brighten, at her ftreams; Candona fhall rejoice, at rocky Crathino - craulo.

Colgorm *), replied the chief, was the firft of my race in Albin; Colgorm, the rider of ocean, thro' its watry vales. He flew his brother

*) The family of Duth-maruno, it appears, came originally from Scandinavia, or, at least, from fome of the northern ifles, fubject in chief, to the kings of Lochlin. The Highland - fenachies, who never miffed to make their comments on, and additions to; the works of Offian, have given us a long lift of the ancestors of Duth-maruno, and a particular account of their actions, inany of which are of the marvellous kind. One of the tale-makers of the north has chofen for his hero, Starumor, the father of Duth maruno, and, confidering the adventures thro' which he

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