Ofcar! faid the dark-red Cairbar, I behold the fpear (1) of Erin's kings. The fpear of Temora (2) glitters in thy hand, fon of the woody Morven It was the pride of an hundred kings, the death of heroes of old. Yield it, fon of Oflian, yield it to carborne Cairbar.

Shall I yield, Ofcar replied, the gift of Erin's injured king; the gift of fair-haired Cormac, when Ofcar fcattered his foes? I came to his halls of joy, when Swaran fled from Fingal. Gladnefs rofe in the face of youth he gave the fpear of Temora. Nor did he give it to the feeble, O Cairbar, neither to the weak in foul. The darkness of thy face is not a ftorm to me; nor are thine eyes the flames of death. Do I fear thy clanging shield? Does my foul tremble at Olla's fong? No: Cairbar, frighten thou the feeble ; Ofcar is like a rock.

And wilt thou not yield the fpear, replied the rifing pride of Cairbar? Are thy words

(1) Cormac, the fon of Arth, had given the fpear, which is here the foundation of the quarrel, to Ofcar, when he came to congratulate him, upon Swaran's being expelled from Ireland.

(2) Ti-mór-ri', the house of the great king, the name of the royal palace of the fupreme kings of Ireland.

mighty becaufe Fingal is near, the gray-haired warrior of Morven. He has fought with little men. But he muft vanish before Cairbar, like a thin pillar of mist before the winds of Atha (1).

Were he who fought with little men near the chief of Atha: Atha's chief would yield green Erin to avoid his rage. Speak not of the mighty, O Cairbar! but turn thy fword on me. Our strength is equal: but Fingal is renowned the firft of mortal men!

Their people faw the darkening chiefs. Their crowding fteps are heard around. Their eyes roll in fire. A thousand fwords are half unsheathed. Red-haired Olla raised the song of battle the trembling joy of Ofcar's foul arofe the wonted joy of his foul when Fingal's horn was heard.

Dark as the fwelling wave of ocean be fore the rifing winds, when it bends its head near the coaft, came on the host of Cairbar, -Daughter of Tofcar (2) ! why that rear

(1) Atha, shallow river: the name of Cairbar's feat in Connaught.

(2) The poet means Malvina, the daughter of Toscar, to whom he addrefled that part of the poem, which related to the death of Ofcar her lover.

He is not fallen yet. Many were the deaths of his arm before my hero fell!-Behold they fall before my fon, like the groves in the defart, when an angry ghoft rushes through night, and takes their green heads in his hand! Morlath falls: Maronnan dies: Conachar trembles in his blood. Cairbar shrinks before Ofcar's fword; and creeps in darkness behind his ftone. He lifted the fpear in fecret, and pierced my Ofcar's fide. He falls forward on his shield: his knee fuftains the chief: but his fpear is in his hand. See gloomy Cairbar (1) falls. The fteel pierced his forehead, and divided his red hair behind. He lay, like a shattered rock, which Cromla shakes from its fide. But never more shall Ofcar rife! he leans on his boffy shield. His fpear is in his terrible hand: Erin's fons food diftant and dark. Their shouts arofe, like the crowded noife of ftreams, and Lena echoed around.

Fingal heard the found; and took his father's fpear. His fteps are before us on the

(1) The Irish hiftorians place the death of Cairbar in the latter end of the third century: they fay, he was killed in battle against Ofcar the fon of Offian but deny that he fell by his hand. As they have nothing to go upon but the traditions of their bards, the tranflator thinks that the account of Offian is as probable at the worft, it is but oppofing one tradition to another.

heath. He spoke the words of woe. I hear the noise of battle and Oscar is alone. Rise, ye fons of Morven, and join the hero's fword.

:

Offian rushed along the heath. Fillan bounded over Lena. Fergus flew with feet of wind. Fingal ftrode in his ftrength, and the light of his shield is terrible. The fons of Erin faw it far diftant; they trembled in their fouls. They knew that the wrath of the king arofe and they forefaw their death. We first arrived; we fought; and Erin's chiefs withftood our rage. But when the king came, in the found of his course, what heart of fteel could ftand! Erin fled over Lena. Death pursued their flight.

We faw Ofcar leaning on his shield. We faw his blood around. Silence darkened on every bero's face. Each turned his back and wept. The king ftrove to hide his tears. His gray beard whiftled in the wind. He bends his head over his fon : and his words are mixed with fighs.

And art thou fallen, Ofcar, in the midft of thy course the heart of the aged beats over thee! He fees thy coming battles. He beholds the battles which ought to come, but they are cut off from thy fame. When shall joy dwell at Selma? When shall the fong of grief ceafe on Morven? My fons

fall by degrees: Fingal shall be the last of his race. The fame which I have received shall pafs away: my age will be without friends. I shall fit like a grey cloud in my hall nor shall I expect the return of a son, in the midst of his founding arms. Weep, ye heroes of Morven ! never more shall Ofcar rife!

And they did weep, O Fingal ! dear was the hero to their fouls. He went out to battle, and the foes vanished; he returned, in peace, amidst their joy. No father mourned his fon flain in youth; no brother his brother of love. They fell, without tears, for the chief of the people was low! Bran (1) is howling at his feet gloomy Luath is fad, for he had often led them to the chace; to the bounding roes of the defart.

When Ofcar beheld his friends around, his white breaft rofe with a figh.-The groans, he faid, of my aged heroes, the howling of my dogs, the fudden burfts of the fong of grief have melted Ofcar's foul. My foul, that never melted before; it was like the fteel of my fword. Offian, carry me to my

(1) Bran was one of Fingal's dogs.- -He was fo remarkable for his fleetnefs, that the poet, in a piece which is not juft now in the tranflator's hands has given him the fame properties with Virgil's Camilla.