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ven is returned, the fign of war is heard. Go to the halls of Strumon, and bring his arms. to Morni. Bring the arms which my father wore in his age; for my arm begins to fail. Take thou thy armour, o Gaul; and rush to the firft of thy battles. Let thine arm reach to the renown of thy fathers. Be thy course in the field, like the eagle's wing. Why fhouldst thou fear death, my fon! the valiant fall with fame; their fhields turn the dark ftream of danger away, and renown dwells on their gray

hairs. Doft thou not fee, o Gaul, how the fteps of my age are honoured? Morni moves forth, and the young meet him, with reverence, and turn their eyes, with filent joy, on his courfe. But I never fled from danger, my fon! my fword lightened through the darkness of battle. The ftranger melted before me; the mighty were blafted in my prefence.

Gaul brought the arms to Morni: the aged. warrior covered himfelf with fteel. He took the fpear in his hand, which was often ftained with the blood of the valiant. He came towards Fingal, his fon attended his fteps. The fon of Comhal rejoiced over the warrior, when he came in the locks of his age.

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King of the roaring Strumon! faid the rif ing joy of Fingal; do I behold thee in arms, after thy ftrength has failed? Often has Morni fhone in battles, like the beam of the rifing fun; when he difperfes the ftorms of the hill, and brings peace to the glittering fields. But why didft thou not reft in thine age? Thy renown is in the fong. The people behold thee, and bless the departure of mighty Morni. Why didft thou not reft in thine age? For the foe will vanish before Fingal.

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Son of Comhal, replied the chief, the ftrength of Morni's arm has failed. I attempt to draw the fword of my youth, but it remains in its place. I throw the fpear, but it falls fhort of the mark; and I feel the weight of my fhield. We decay, 'like the grafs of the mountain, and our ftrength returns no more, I have a fon, o Fingal, his foul has delighted in the actions of Morni's youth; but his fword has not been lifted against the foe, neither has his fame begun. I come with him to battle; to direct his arm. His renown will be a fun to my foul, in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people! that the heroes would only fay, "Behold the father of Gaul!"

King of Strumon, Fingal replied, Gaul fhall lift the fword in battle. But he fhall lift it before Fingal; my arm fhall defend his youth. But reft thou in the halls of Selma, and hear of our renown. Bid the harp be ftrung; and the voice of the bard arife, that thofe who fall may rejoice in their fame; and the foul of Morni brighten with gladnefs. Offian! thou haft fought in battles: the blood of ftrangers is on thy fpear; let thy courfe be with Gaul in the ftrife: but depart not from the fide of Fingal; left the foe find you alone; and your fame fail at once.

I faw *) Gaul in his arms, and my foul was mixed with his; for the fire of the battle was in his eyes! he looked to the foe with joy. We spoke the words of friendfhip in fecret: and the lightning of our fwords poured toge ther; for we drew them behind the wood, and tried the ftrength of our arms on the empty air.

Night

*) Offian fpeaks. The contrast between the old and young heroes is firongly marked. The circumftance of the latter's drawing their fwords is well imagined, and agrees with the impatience of young foldiers, just entered upon action,

Night came down on Morven. Fingal fat at the beam of the oak. Morni fat by his fide, with all his gray waving locks. Their discourfe is of other times, and the actions of their fathers. Three bards, at times, touched the harp; and Ullin was near with his fong. He fung of the mighty Comhal; but darkness gathered on Morni's brow. * He rolled his red eye on Ullin; and the fong of the bard ceafed. Fingal obferved the aged hero, and he mildly fpoke.

Chief of Strumon, why that darkness? Let the days of other years be forgot. Our fathers contended in battle; but we meet together, at the feaft. Our fwords are turned on the foes, and they melt before us on the field. Let the days of our fathers be forgot, king of moffy Strumon.'

King

*) Ullin had chosen ill the subject of his song. The darkness which gathered on Morni's brow, did not proceed from any dislike he had to Comhal's name, though they were foes; but from his fear, that the fong would awaken Fingal to remem brance of the feuds, which had fubfifted of old between the families. Fingal's fpeech on this occafion abounds with generofity and good fenfe.

King of Morven, replied the chief, I remember thy father with joy. He was terrible.

in battle; the rage *) of the My eyes were full of tears,

chief was deadly. when the king of

o Fingal, and How many he

heroes fell. The valiant fall, the feeble remain on the hills. roes have paffed away, in the days of Morni! And I did not fhun the battle; neither did I fly from the ftrife' of the valiant.

Now let the friends of Fingal reft; for the night is around; that they may rife, with ftrength, to battle againft car borne Lathmon. I hear the found of his hoft, like thunder heard on a diftant heath. Offian! and fair-haired Gaul! ye are fwift in the race. Obferve the foes of Fingal from that woody hill. approach them not, your fathers are not near to fhield you. Let not your fame fall at once. The valour of youth may fail.

But

We

*) This expreffion is ambiguous in the original. It' either fignifies that Comhal killed many in battle, or that he was implacable in his refentment. The translator has endeavoured to preserve the fame ambiguity in the verfion; as it was probably defigned by the poet.

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