gether, fon of car-borne Morni! - The narrow houfe is pleasant to me, and the gray ftone of the dead: for never more will I leave thy rocks, fea-furrounded Tromáthon! Night *) came on with her clouds, after the departure of Lathmon, when he went to the wars of his fathers, to the mofs covered rock of Duthórmoth; night came on, and I fat in the hall, at the beam of the oak. The wind was abroad in the trees. I heard the found of arms. Joy rofe in my face; for I thought of thy return. It was the chief of Cuthal, the red-haired ftrength of Dunrommath. His eyes rolled in fire: the blood of my people was on his fword. They who defended Oithóna, fell by the gloomy chief. What could I do? / My arm was weak; it could not lift the fpear. He took me in my grief, amidft my tears he raifed the fail. He feared the returning ftrength of Lathmon, the brother of unhappy Oithona.But behold, he comes with his people! the dark wave is divided before him! Whither wilt thou turn thy fteps, fon of Morni? Many are the warriors of Dunrominath!

-

My steps never turned from battle, replied the hero, as he untheathed his fword; and fhall I begin

* Oithóna relates, how she was carried away by

Dunrominath.

I begin to fear,

near? Go to thy

Oithóna, when thy foes are cave, daughter of Nuäth, till our battle ceafe. Son of Leth, bring the bows of our fathers; and the founding quiver of Morni. Let our three warriors bend the yew. Ourselves will lift the fpear. They are an hoft on the rock; but our fouls are ftrong.

dried Dunrommath

The daughter of Nuäth went to the cave: a troubled joy rofe on her mind, like the, red path of the lightning on a ftormy cloud. Her foul was refolved, and the tear was from her wildly - looking eye. flowly approached; for he faw the fon of Morni. Contempt contracted his face, a fimile is on his dark brown cheek; his red eye rolled, half-conceal'd, beneath his fhaggy brows.

Whence are the fons of the fea? begun the gloomy chief. Have the winds driven you to the rocks of Tromáthon? Or come you in fearch of the white-handed daughter of Nuäth? The fons of the unhappy, ye feeble men, come to the hand of Dunrommath. His eyes fpare not the weak; and he delights in the blood of ftrangers. Oithóna is a beam of light, and the chief of Cuthal enjoys it in fecret; wouldst thou come on its lovelinefs like a cloud, fon of the feeble hand?

C 3

hand?

Thou mayft come, but fhalt thou

return to the halls of thy fathers?

Doft thou not know me, faid Gaul, redhaired chief of Cuthal? Thy feet were swift on the heath, in the battle of car-borne Lathmon; when the fword of Morni's fon purfued his host, in Morven's woody land. Dunrommath! thy words are mighty, for thy warriors gather behind thee. But do I fear them, fon of pride? I am not of the race of the feeble.

Gaul advanced in his arms; Dunrommath fhrunk behind his people. But the fpear of Gaul pierced the gloomy chief, and his fword lopped off his head, as it bended in death. The fon of Morni fhook it thrice by the lock; the warriors of Dunrommath fled. The arrows of Morven pursued them; ten fell on the moffy rocks. The reft lift the founding fail, and bound on the ecchoing deep.

Gaul advanced towards the cave of Oithóna. He beheld a youth leaning against a rock. An arrow had pierced his fide; and his eye rolled faintly beneath his helmet. The foul of Morni's fon is fad, he came and spoke the words

of peace.

Can

Can the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the mournful brow? I have fearched for the herbs of the mountains; I have gathered them. on the fecret banks of their ftreams. My hand has clofed the wound of the valiant, and their eyes have bleffed the fon of Morni. Where dwelt thy fathers, warrior? Were they of the fons of the mighty? Sadnefs fhall come, like night, on thy native ftreams; for thou art fallen in thy youth.

My fathers, replied the ftranger, were, of the fons of the mighty; but they shall not be fad for my fame is departed like morningmift. High walls, rife on the banks of Duv ranna; and fee their moffy towers in the ftream; a rock afcends behind them with its bending firs. Thou mayft behold it far diftant. There my brother dwells. He is renowned in battle: give him this glittering helmet.

The helmet fell from the hand of Gaul; for it was the wounded Oithóna. She had armed herfelf in the cave, and came in fearch of death. Her heavy eyes are half-clofed; the blood pours from her fide.

Son of Morni, fhe faid, prepare the narrow tomb, Sleep comes, like a cloud, on my

foul. The eyes of Oithóna are dim. O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the bright beam of my fame! then had my years come on with joy; and the virgins would bless my steps. But I fall in youth, fon of Morni, and my father fhall blush in his hall.

She fell pale on the rock of Tromáthon. The mournful hero railed her tomb. - He came to Morven; but we faw the darkness of his foul. Offian took the harp in the praife of Oi thóna. The brightnefs of the face of Gaul returned. But his figh rofe, at times; in the midst of his friends, like blafts that fhake their unfre quent wings, after the ftormy winds are laid.