The red ftars look on us from the clouds, and filently defcend. Soon shall the gray beam of the morning rife, and shew us the foes of Cormac.-Fillan take the fpear of the king; go to Mora's dark-brown fide. Let thine eyes travel over the heath, like flames of fire. Obferve the foes of Fingal, and the courfe of generous Cathmor. I heard a diftant found, like the falling of rocks in the defart.-But ftrike thou thy shield, at times, that they may not come through night, and the fame of Morven cease.-I begin to be alone, my son, and I dread the fall of my

renown.

The voice of the bards arofe. The king leaned on the shield of Trenmor.-Sleep de fcended on his eyes, and his future battles rofe in his dreams. The hoft are fleeping around. Dark-haired Fillan observed the foe. His fteps are on a diftant hill: we hear at times, his clanging shield.

One of the Fragments of ancient Poetry lately published, gives a different account of the death of Ofcar the fon of Offian. The tranflator though he well knew the more probable tradition concerning that hero was unwilling to reject a poem, which, if not really of Offian's compofition, has much of his manner, and concife turn of expreffion. A more correct copy of that fragment, which has fince come to the tranflator's hands has enabled him to correct the mistake, into which a fimilarity of names had led those who handed

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down the poem by tradition. The heroes of the piece are Ofcar the fon of Caruth, and Dermid the fon of Diaran. Offian > or perhaps his imitator, opens the poem with a lamentation for Ofcar, and afterwards by an easy transition, relates the story of Ofcar the son of Caruth, who feems to have bore the fame character, as well as name with Ofcar the fon of Offian. Though the tranflator thinks he has good reafon to reject the fragment as the compofition of Offian; yet as it is, after all, ftill fomewhat doubtful whether it is or not, he has here fubjoined it.

WHY openeft thou afresh the spring of my

grief, O fon of Alpin, inquiring how Ofcar fell? My eyes are blind with tears; but memory beams on my heart. How can I relate the mournful death of the head of the people! Chief of the warriors, Ofcar, my fon, shall I fee thee no more!

He fell as the moon in a ftorm; as the fun from the midft of his courfe when clouds rife from the wafte of the waves, when the blackness of the ftorm inwraps the rocks of Ardannider. I, like an ancient oak on Morven I moulder alone in my place. The blaft hath lopped my branches away; and I tremble at the wings of the north. Chief of the warriors, Ofcar, my fon! shall I fee thee no more!

But, fon of Alpin, the hero fell not harmless as the grafs of the field; the blood of the mighty

was on his fword and he travelled with death through the ranks of their pride. But Ofcar, thou fon of Caruth, thou haft fallen low! No enemy fell by thy hand. Thy fpear was stained with the blood of thy friend.

Dermid and Ofcar were one: They reaped the battle together. Their friendship was ftrong as their fteel; and death walked between them to the field. They came on the foe like two rocks falling from the brows of Ardven. Their fwords were stained with the blood of the valiant: warriors fainted at their names. Who was equal to Ofcar but Dermid ?

and who to Dermid, but Oscar !

They killed mighty Dargo in the field; Dargo who never fled in war. His daughter was fair as the morn; mild as the beam of night. Her eyes, like two ftars in a shower: her breath the gale of spring her breafts as the new-fallen fnow floating on the moving heath. The warriors faw her, and loved; their fouls were fixed on the maid. Each loved her as his fame; each must poffefs her or die. But her foul was fixed on Ofcar; the fon of Caruth was the youth of her love. She forgot the blood of her father; and loved the hand that flew him.

Son of Caruth, faid Dermid, I love; O Ofcar, I love this maid. But her foul cleaveth unte

thee; and nothing can heal Dermid. Here, pierce this bofom, Oscar; relieve me, my friend, with thy fword.

My fword, fon of Diaran, shall never be stained with the blood of Dermid.

Who then is worthy to flay me O Ofcar, fon of Caruth? Let not my life pafs away un'known. Let none but Oscar flay me. Send me with honour to the grave, and let my death be renowned.

Dermid, make use of thy sword; son of Diaran, wield thy steel. Would that I fell with thee! that my death came from the hand of Dermid!

They fought by the brook of the mountain, by the ftreams of Branno. Blood tinged the running water and curdled round the moffy ftones. The stately Dermid fell; he fell, and fmiled in death.

And falleft thou, fon of Diaran, fallest thou by Ofcar's hand! Dermid who never yielded in war thus do I fee thee fall! He went, and returned to the maid of his love; he returned, but she perceived his grief.

Why that gloomy son of Caruth? what shades thy mighty foul !

Though once renowned for the bow, O maid, I have loft my fame. Fixed on a tree by the brook of the hill, is the shield of the valiant Gormur, whom I flew in battle. I have wasted the day in vain, nor could my arrow pierce it.

Let me try, fon of Caruth, the skill of Dargo's daughter. My hands were taught the bow: my father delighted in my skill.

She went. He ftood behind the shield. Her ar row flew, and pierced his breast.

Bleffed be that hand of fnow; and bleffed that bow of yew! Who but the daughter of Dargo was worthy to flay the fon of Caruth? Lay me in the earth, my fair one; lay me by the fide of Dermid.

Ofcar! the maid replied, I have the foul of the mighty Dargo. Well pleafed I can meet death. My forrow I can end. She pierced her white bosom with the fteel. She fell; she trembled; and died.

By the brook of the hill their graves are laid; a birch's unequal shade covers their tomb. Often on their green earthen tombs the branchy fons of the mountain feed when mid-day is all in flames, and filence over all the hills.