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A LOP I N.

My tears, O Ryno! are for the dead; my voice, for the inhabitants of the grave. Tall thou art on the hill; fair among the fons of the plain. But thou shalt fall like Morar (1); and the mourner shall fit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in the hall, unftrung.

Thou wert fwift, O Morar! as a roe on the hill; terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the ftorm. Thy fword in battle, as lightning in the field. Thy voice was like a ftream after rain; like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm; they were confumed in the flames of thy wrath.

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But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face was like the fun after rain; like the moon in the filence of night; calm as the breaft of the lake when the loud wind is laid.

Narrow is thy dwelling now; dark the place of thine abode. With three fteps f compafs thy grave, O thou who waft fo great before! Four ftones, with their heads of mofs, are the only memorial of thee. A tree

(1) Mór-ér great man,

with scarce a leaf, long grafs which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou haft no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morgian.

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Who on his ftaff is this? who is this, whofe head is white with age, whofe eyes are red with tears, who quakes at every step. is thy father (1), O Morar! the father of no fon but thee. He heard of thy fame in battle'; he heard of foes difperfed. He heard of Morar's fame; why did he not hear of his wound? Weep, thon father of Morar! weep; but thy fon heareth thee not. Deep is the fleep of the dead; low their pillow of duft. No more shall he hear thy voice; no more shall he awake at thy call. When shall it be morn in the grave, to bid the flumberer awake!

Farewel, thou braveft of men! thou conqueror in the field! but the field shall see thee no more; nor the dark wood be lightened with the fplendor of thy fteel. Thou haft left no fon. But the fong shall preferve thy name.

(1) Torman, the fon of Carthul lord of L mora, one of the western ifles.

Future times shall hear of thee; they shall hear of the fallen Morar,

The grief of all arofe, but moft the bursting figh of Armin (1). He remembers the death of his fon, who fell in the days of his youth, Carmor (2) was near the hero, the chief of the echoing Galmal. Why burfts the figh of Armin, he faid? Is there a caufe to mourn? The fong comes, with its mufic, to melt and please the foul. It is like foft mift, that, rifing from a lake, pours on the filent vale; the green flowers are filled with dew, but the fun returns in his ftrength, and the mift is gone. Why art thou fad, O Armin, chief of fea-furrounded Gorma?

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Sad! I am indeed: nor finall my cause of Carmor, thou haft lost no son; thou haft loft no daughter of beauty. Colgar the valiant lives; and Annira faireft maid. The boughs of thy family flourish, O Carmor! but Armin is the laft of his race. Dark is thy bed, O Daura! and deep thy fleep in the tomb. When shalt thou awake with thy fongs? with all thy voice of mufic?

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(1) Armin, a hero. He was chief or petty king. of Gorma, i. e. the blue ifland, fuppofed to be one of the Hebrides.

(2) Cear-mór, a tall dark-complexioned man,

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Rife, winds of autumn, rife, blow upon the dark heath! ftreams of the mountains, roar! howl, ye tempefts, in the top of the oak! walk through broken clouds, O moon! show by intervals thy pale face! bring to my mind that fad night, when all my children fell; when Arindal the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely failed.

Daura, my daughter! thou wert fair; fair as the moon on the hills of Fura (1); white as the driven fnow; fweet as the breathing gale. Arindal, thy bow was ftrong, thy spear was fwift in the field: thy look was like mift on the wave; thy shield, a red cloud in a ftorm. Armar, renowned in war, came and fought Daura's love; he was not long. denied ; fair was the hope of their friends.

Erath, fon of Odgal, repined; for his brother was flain by Armar. He came difguifed like a fon of the fea : fair was his skiff on the wave; white his locks of age; calm his ferious brow. Fairest of women, he faid, lovely daughter of Armin! a rock not diftant in the fea, bears a tree on its fide; red shines the fruit afar. There Armar waits for Daura. I came to carry his love along the rolling fea

She went; and she called on Armar.

(1) Fuar-a, cold ifland.

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Nought answered, but the fon (1) of the rock. Armar, my love! my love! why tormenteft thou me with fear? hear, fon of Ardnart, hear it is Daura who calleth thee! Erath the traitor fled laughing to the land. She lifted up her voice, and cried for her brother and her father. Arindal! Armin! none to relieve your Daura.

Her voice came over the fea. Arindal my fon defcended from the hill; rough in the fpoils of the chace. His arrows rattled by his fide; his bow was in his hand : five dark gray dogs attended his fteps. He faw fierce Erath on the shore: he seized and bound him to an oak. Thick bend the thongs (2) of the hide around his limbs; he loads the wind with his groans.

Arindal afcends the wave in his boat, to bring Daura to land. Armar came in his wrath, and let fly the gray-feathered shaft. It fung; it funk in thy heart, O Arindal my fon for Erath the traitor thou diedft. The

(1) By the fon of the rock the poet means the echoing back of the human voice from a rock. The vulgar were of opinion, that this repetition of found was made by a fpirit within the rock; and they, on that account, called it mac-talla; the fon who dwells in the rock.

(2) The poet here only means that Erath was bound with leathern thongs.

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