CROMA:

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POEM.

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CROM A:

A POEM. *)

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t was the voice of my love! few are his vi

fits to the dreams of Malvina! Open your airy halls, ye fathers of mighty Tofcar. Unfold the gates of your clouds; the steps of

Mal

*) Malvina the daughter of Tofcar is overheard by
Offian, lamenting the death of Ofcar her lover,
Offian, to divert her grief, relates his own
actions in an expedition, which he undertook, at
Fingal's command, to aid Crothar the petty king
of Croma, a country in Ireland, against Roth-
mar who invaded his dominions.
delivered down thus, in tradition.
of Croma being blind with age,

The story is

Crothar king

and his fon Rothmar the chief of

too young for the field,
Tromlo refolved to avail himself, of the oppor-
tunity offered of annexing the dominions of Cro-
thar to his own. He accordingly marched into
the country fubject to Crothar, but which he

held

Malvina's departure are near. 'I have heard yoice in my dream. I feel the fluttering of my foul. Why didft thou come, o blast, from the dark rolling of the lake? Thy ruftling wing was in the trees, the dream of Maivina departed. But fhe beheld her love, when his robe of mift flew on the wind; the beam of the fun was on his fkirts, they glittered like the gold of the ftranger. It was the voice of my love! few are his vifits to my dreams!

But thou dwelleft in the foul of Malvina, fon of mighty Offian. My fighs arife with the beam of the eaft; my tears defcend with the drops of night. I was a lovely tree, in thy

prefen

held of Arth or Artho, who was, at the time, fupreme king of Ireland.

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Crothar being, on account of his age and blinduefs, unfit for action, fent for aid to Fingal king of Scotland; who ordered his fon Of fian to the relief of Crothar. But before his arrival Fovar-gormo, the fon of Crothar, attacking Rothmar, was flain himself, and his forces totally defeated. Offian renewed the war; came to battle, killed Rothmar, and routed his army. Croma being thus delivered of its enemies, Of fian returned to Scotland.

prefence, Ofcar, with all my branches round. me: but thy death came like a blaft from the defart, and laid my green head low; the spring returned with its fhowers, but no leaf of mine arofe. The virgins faw me filent in the hall, and they touched the harp of joy. The tear was on the cheek of Malvina: the virgins beheld me in my grief. Why art thou fad, they faid; thou firft of the maids of Lutha? Was he lovely as the beam of the morning, and ftately in thy fight?

Pleasant is thy fong in Offian's ear, daughter of ftreamy Lutha! Thou hast heard the mufic of departed bards in the dream of thy reft, when fleep fell on thine eyes, at the murmur of Moruth *). When thou didst return from the chace, in the day of the fun, thou haft heard the mufie of the bards, and thy fong is lovely. It is lovely, o Malvina, but it melts the foul. There is a joy in grief, when peace dwells in the breaft of the fad. But forrow waftes the mournful, o daughter of Tofear, and their days are few. the flower, on which ftrength, after the mildew has paffed over it, and its head is heavy with the drops of night.

*) Mor'-ruth, great stream.

They fall away, like the fun looks in his

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