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LATHMON:

A

POEM.

LATHMON:

A POEM. *)

Selma

elma, thy halls are filent. There is no

found in the woods of Morven. The wave tumbles alone on the coaft. The filent beam of the fun is on the field. The daughters of Morven come forth, like the bow of the fhow

*) Lathmon a British prince, taking advantage of
Fingal's abfence in Ireland, made a defcent on
Morven, and advanced within fight of Selma the
royal palace. Fingal arrived in the mean time,
and Lathmon retreated to a hill, where his ar-
iny was furprised by night, and himself taken
prifoner by Offian and Gaul the fon of Morni,
This exploit of Gaul and Offian bears a near re-
femblance to the beautiful epifode of Nifus and
Euryalus in Virgil's ninth Æneid.
The poen
opens, with the first appearance of Fingal on
the coaft of Morven," and ends, it
pofed, about noon the next day.

may be fup

The first pa.

fhower; they look towards green Ullin for the white fails of the king. He had promised to return, but the winds of the north arofe.

Who pours from the eastern hill, like a ftream of darknels? it is the host of Lathmon. He has heard of the abfence of Fingal. He trufts in the wind of the north. His foul brightens with joy. Why doft thou come, Lathmon? The mighty are not in Selma. Why comeft thou with thy forward fpear? Will the daughters of Morven fight? Bnt stop, o mighty ftream, in thy courfe! Does not Lathmon behold thefe fails? Why doft thou vanifh, Lathmon like the mist of the lake? But the fqually ftorm is behind thee; Fingal purfues thy fteps!

The king of Morven ftarted from fleep, as we rolled on the dark-blue wave. He ftretched his hand to his fpear, and his heroes rofe around. We knew, that he had feen his fathers; for they often defcended to his dreams, when the fword of the foe rofe over the land, and the battle darkened before us.

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Whither

ragraph is in a lyric meafure, and appears to have been fung, of old, to the harp, as a preJude to the narrative part of the poem, which is in heroic verfe.

Whither haft thou fled, o wind? faid the king of Morven. Doft thou ruftle in the chambers of the fouth, and purfue the fhower in other lands? Why doft thou not come to my fails? to the blue face of my feas? The foe is in the land of Morven, and the king is abfent. But let each bind on his mail, and each asfume his fhield. Stretch every fpear over the wave; let every fword be unsheathed. Lathnon *) is before us with his hoft; he that fled **) from Fingal on the plains of Lona. But he returns, like a collected ftream, and his Foar is between our hills.

Such were the words of Fingal. We rufhed into Carmona's bay. Offian afcended the hill; and thrice ftruck his boffy fhield. The

rock

*) It is faid, by tradition, that it was the intelligence of Lathmon's invafion, that occafioned Fingal's return from Ireland; though Cffian, more poetically, afcribes the caufe of Fingal's knowledge to his dream

**) He alludes to a battle, wherein Fingal had defeated Lathmon. The occafion of this firft war, between those heroes, is told by Offian in another poem, which the translator has feen,

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