Voices of echoing Cona! he faid, O bards of other times! Ye, on whofe fouls the blue hofts of our fathers rife ftrike the harp in my hall; and let Fingal hear the fong. Pleafant is the joy of grief!it is like the shower of fpring when it foftens the branch of the oak, and the young leaf lifts its green head. Sing on, O bards, to morrow we lift the fail. My blue courfe is through the ocean, to Carric-thura's walls; the moffy walls of Sarno, where Comála dwelt. There the noble Cathulla fpreads the feaft of shells. The boars of his woods are many, and the found of the chace shall arife.

Cronnan (1), fon of fong ! faid Ullin Minona graceful at the harp! raise the fong of Shilric, to please the king of Morven. Let Vinvela come in her beauty, like the showery bow, when it shews its lovely head on the lake, and the fetting fun is bright. And she comes, O Fingal! her voice is foft, but fad.

(1) One should think that the parts of Shilrie and Vinvela were reprefented by Cronnan and Minona whofe very names denote that they were fingers, who performed in public. Cronnan fignifies a mournful found; Minona, or Mín-'ónn, Soft air. All the dramatic poems of Offian appear to have been prefented before Fingal, upon folemn occafions.

VIN VEL A.

My love is a fon of the hill. He purfues the flying deer. His gray dogs are panting around him; his bow-ftring founds in the wind. Doft thou reft by the fount of the rock, or by the noife of the mountainftream? The rushes are nodding with the wind, the mift is flying over the hill. I will approach my love unperceived, and fee him from the rock. Lovely I faw thee firft by the aged oak of Branno (1), thou wert returning tall from the chace; the fairest among thy friends.

SHILRI C.

What voice is that I hear that voice like the fummer-wind.

I fit not by the nodding rushes; I hear not the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvela (2), afar I go to the

in

(1) Bran, or Branno, fignifies a mountain-stream: it is here fome river known by that name the days of Offian. There are several small rivers in the north of Scotland ftill retaining the name of Bran; in particular one which falls into the Tay at Dunkeld.

(2) Bhín-bheul, a woman with a melodious voice. Bh in the Galic Language has the fame found with thev in English,

wars of Fingal. My dogs attend me no more. No more I tread the hill. No more from on high I fee thee, fair- moving by the stream of the plain; bright as the bow of heaven; as the moon on the western wave.

VIN VEL AJ

Then thou art gone, O Shilric! and I am alone on the hill. The deer are feen on the brow; void of fear they graze along. No more they dread the wind; no more the ruftling tree. The hunter is far removed; he is in the field of graves. Strangers! fons of the waves! fpare my lovely Shilric

SHIERI C.

If fall I muft in the field, raife high my grave, Vinvela. Gray ftones and heaped-up earth, shall mark me to future times. When the hunter shall fit by the mound, and produce his food at noon, « Some warrior refts « here, he will fay; and my fame shall live in his praife. Remember me, Vinvela, when low on earth I lie!

VIN VEL A.

Yes! I will remember thee-Indeed my Shilric will fall. What shall I do, my love! when thou art gone for ever? Through thefe

hills I will go at noon: I will go through the filent heath. There I will fee the place of thy reft, returning from the chace. Indeed, my Shilric will fall; but I will remember him.

And I remember the chief, faid the king of woody Morven; he confumed the battle in his rage. But now my eyes behold him not. I met him, one day, on the hill; his cheek was pale; his brow was dark. The figh was frequent in his breaft: his steps were towards the defart. But now he is not in the crowd of my chiefs, when the founds of my shields arife. Dwells he in the narrow houfe (1), the chief of high Carmora (2)?

Cronnan! faid Ullin of other times, raife the fong of Shilric; when he returned to his hills, and Vinvela was no more. He leaned on her gray moffy ftone; he thought Vinvela lived. He faw her fair-moving (3)

(1) The grave.

(2) Carn-mór, high rocky hill.

(3) The diftinction which the ancient Scots made between good and bad fpirits, was that the former appeared fometimes in the day time in lonely unfrequented places, but the latter feldom but by night, and always in a dismal gloemy fcene.

on the plain but the bright form lafted not: the fun-beam fled from the field, and she was feen no more. Hear the fong of Shilric it is foft, but fad.

I fit by the moffy fountain; on the top of the hill of winds. One tree is ruftling above me. Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is troubled below. The deer defcend from the hill. No hunter at a diftance is feen; no whiftling cow-herd is nigh. It is mid day: but all is filent. Sad are my thought's alone. Didft thou but appear, O my love a wanderer on the heath! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee; thy bofom heav ing on the fight; thine eyes full of tears for thy friends; whom the mist of the hill had concealed! Thee I would comfort, my love, and bring thee to thy father's house.

like a

But is it she that there appears, beam of light on the heath? bright as the moon in autumn as the fun in a fummerftorm, comeft thou, lovely maid, over rocks, over mountains to me? She fpeaks but how weak her voice! like the breeze in the reeds of the pool.

Returneft thou fafe from the war? Where are thy friends, my love? I heard of thy death on the hill; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric!