Attend to the tale of Offian, o maid; he res members the days of his youth.

The king commanded; I raised my fails, and rushed into the bay of Croma; into Croma's founding bay in lovely Innis-fail. *) High on the coaft arose the towers of Crothar king of fpears; Crothar renowned in the battles of his youth; but age dwelt then around the chief. Rothmar raifed the fword against the hero; and the wrath of Fingal burned. He fent Offian to meet Rothmar in battle, for the chief of Croma was the companion of his youth.

t

I fent the bard before me with fongs; I came into the hall of Crothar. There fat the hero amidst the arms of his fathers, but his eyes had failed. His gray locks waved around a ftaff, on which the warrior leaned. He hummed the fong of other times, when the found of our arms reached his ears. Crothar rofe, ftretched his aged hand, and bleffed the fon of Fingal.

Offian! faid the hero, the ftrength of Crothar's arm has failed. O could I lift the fword, as on the day that Fingal fought at Strutha! He was the first of mortal men; but Crothar

had

*) Innis-fail, one of the ancient names of Ireland.

had alfo his fame. The king of Morven praifed me, and he placed on my arm the boffy 'fhield of Calthar, whom the hero had flain in war. Doft thou not behold it on the wall? for Crothar's eyes have failed. Is thy ftrength, like thy father's, Offian? let the aged feel thine arm.

I gave my arm to the king; he feels it with his aged hands. The figh rofe in his breast, and his tears defcended. Thou art strong, my fon, he faid, but not like the king of Morven. But who is like that hero among the mighty in war! Let the feaft of my halls be Spread; and let my bards raise the fong. Great is he that is within my walls, fons of ecchoing Croma!

The feaft is fpread. The harp is heard; and joy is in the hall. But it was joy covering a figh, that darkly dwelt in every breaft. It was like the faint beam of the moon spread on a cloud in heaven. At length the mufic ceafed, and the aged king of Croma fpoke; he fpoke without a tear, but the figh fwelled in the midft of his voice.

Son of Fingal! doft thou not behold the darkness of Crothar's hall of fhells? My foul was not dark at the feast, when my people lived. I rejoiced in the presence of strangers,

when

when my fon fhone in the hall. But, Offian, he is a beam that is departed, and left no ftreak of light behind. He is fallen, fon of Fingal, in the battles of his father. Rothmar the chief of graffy Tromlo heard that my eyes had failed; he heard that my arms were fixed in the hall, and the pride of his foul arofe. He came towards Croma; my people fell before him. I took my arms in the hall, but what could fightless Crothar do?, My fteps were unequal; my grief was great. I wifhed for the days that were paft. Days wherein I fought; and conquered in the field of blood. My fon returned from the chace; the fair-haired Eovar - gormo *). He had not lifted his fword in battle, for his arm was young. But the foul of the youth was great; the fire of valour burnt in his eyes. He faw the disordered steps of his father, and his figh arofe. King of Croma, he faid, is it becaufe thou haft no fon; is it for the weakness of Fovargorma's arm, that thy fighs arife? I begin, my father, to feel the ftrength of my arm; I have drawn the fword of my youth; and I have bent the bow. Let me meet this Rothmar, with

.

*) Faobhar gorm, the blue point of feel.

the youths of Croma: let me meet him, o my father; for I feel my burning foul.

And thou fhalt meet him, I faid, fon of the fightlefs Crothar! But let others advance before thee, that I may hear the tread of thy feet at thy return; for my eyes behold thee not, fair-haired Fovar-gormo! He went, he met the foe; he fell. The foe advances towards Croma. He who flew iny fon, is near, with all his pointed fpears.

It is not time to fill the fhell, I replied, and took my fpear. My people faw the fire of my eyes, and they rofe around. All night we ftrode along the heath. Gray morning rofe in the east. A green_narrow vale appeared before us; nor did it want its blue ftream. The dark hoft of Rothmar are on its banks, with all their glittering arms. We fought along the vale; they fled; Rothmar funk beneath my fword. Day had not defcended in the weft, when I brought his arms to Crothar. The aged hero felt them with his hands; and joy bright-ened in his foul.

The people gather to the hall; the found of the fhells is heard. Then harps are ftrung;

}

five bards advance, and fing, by turns *), the praise of Offian; they poured forth their burning fouls, and the harp anfwered to their voice.

The

and

*) Thofe extempore - compofitions were in great re-
pute among fucceeding bards. The pieces exftant
of that kind fhew more of the good ear, than
The
of the poetical genius of their authors.
translator has only met with one poem of this
fort, which he thinks worthy of being preferved.
It is a thousand years later than Offian, but the
author feems to have obferved his manner,
adopted some of his expreffions. The story of it
is this. Five bards, paffing the night in the house
of a chief, who was a poet himself, went fever.
and re-
ally to make their obfervations on,
turned with an extempore - defcription of, night.
The night happened to be one in October,
appears from the poem; and in the north of
Scotland, it has all that variety, which the bards
afcribe to it, in their descriptions:

as

FIRST BARD.

Night is dull and dark. The clouds reft on the hills.

No ftar with green trembling beam; no moon looks from the fky. I hear the blast in the wood; but I hear it dittant far. The ftream of

the