of Cuthullin fhall grow, like the branchy tree of Cromla. Many battles await thee, O chief! Many fhall be the wounds of thy hand! Bring hither, Ofcar, the deer! Prepare the feaft of fhells. Let our fouls rejoice after danger, and our friends delight in our prefence !" WE fat. We feafted. We fung. The foul of Cuthullin rofe. The ftrength of his arm returned. Gladness brightened along his face. Ullin gave the fong; Carril raifed the voice. I joined the bards, and fung of battles of the fpear. Battles! where I often fought. Now I fight no more! The fame of my former deeds is ceased. I fit forlorn at the tombs of my friends! THUS the night paffed away in fong. We brought back the morning with joy. Fingal arofe on the heath, and shook his glittering fpear. He moved first toward the plains of Lena. We followed in all our arms. "SPREAD the fail," faid the king, the winds as they pour from Lena." " feize We rofe on the wave with fongs. We ruthed, with joy, through the foam of the deep. ARGUMENT. Lathmon, a British prince, taking advantage of Fingal's absence on an expedition in Ireland, made a defcent on Morven, and advanced within fight of Selma, the royal refidence. Fingal arrived in the mean time, and Lathmon retreated to a hill, where his army was furprized by night, and himself taken prifoner by Offian and Gaul the son of Morni. The poem opens, with the first appearance of Fingal on the coaft of Morven, and ends, it may be fuppofed, about noon the next day. SELM 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 fhower; they look towards green Erin for the white fails of the king. He had promised to return, but the winds of the north arose ! WHO pours from the eastern hill, like a stream of darkness? It is the hoft 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, O Lathmon? The mighty are not in Selma. Why comeft thou with thy forward fpear? Will the daughters of Morven fight? But ftop, O mighty ftream, in thy courfe! Does not Lathmon behold these fails? Why doft thou vanish, Lathmon, like the mift of the lake? But the fqually storm is behind thee; Fingal pursues thy steps! THE THE king of Morven had started from fleep, as we rolled on the dark-blue wave. He ftretched his hand to his fpear, 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. "Whither haft thou fled, O wind?" faid the king of Morven. "Doft thou ruftle in the chambers of the fouth, purfueft thou the shower 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 far. But let each bind on his mail, and each affume his fhield. Stretch every fpear over the wave; let every fword be unfheathed. Lathmon* 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 roar is between our hills." SUCH were the words of Fingal. We rushed into Carmona's bay. Offian afcended the hill: He thrice ftruck his boffy fhield. The rock of It is faid by tradition, that it was the intelligence of Lathmon's invafion, that occafioned Fingal's return from Ireland; though Offian, more poetically, afcribes the cause of Fingal's knowlege to his dream. + He alludes to a battle wherein Fingal had defeated Lath. mon. Morven |