IT A POEM (1). Twas the voice of my love! few are his vifits to the dreams of Malvina! Open your airy halls, ye fathers of mighty Tofcar! Unfold the gates of your clouds; the steps of Malvina's departure are near. I have heard a voice in my dream. I feel the fluttering of (1) Malvina the daughter of Tofcar is over-heard by Offian lamenting the death of Ofcar her lover. Offian to divert her grief, relates his own actions in an expedition which he undertook, at Fingal's command to aid Crothar the petty king of Cro❤ ma, a country in Ireland, against Rothmar who in vaded his dominions. The story is delivered down thus, in tradition. Crothar king of Croma being blind with age, and his fon too young for the field, Rothmar the chief of Tromlo refolved to avail himself of the opportunity offered of annexing the dominions of Crothar to his own. He accordingly marched into the country fubject to Crothar, but which he held of Arth or Artho, who was, at the time, fupreme king of Ireland. Crothar being, on account of his age and blind. nefs, unfit for action, fent for aid to Fingal king of Scotland; who ordered his fon Offian to the relief of Crothar. But before his arrival, Fovar-gor. mo the fon of Crothar attacking Rothmar was flain himself, and his forces totally defeated, Offian renewed the war, came to battle, killed Rothe mar, and routed his army. Croma being thus de❤ livered of its enemies, Offian returned to Scotland VOL II. K my foul. Why didft thou come, O blaft, from the dark-rolling of the lake? Thy ruftling wing was in the trees, the dream of Malvina departed. But she beheld her love, when his robe of mist flew on the wind; the beam of the fun was on his skirts, they glittered like the gold of the ftranger. It was the voice of my love! few are his vifits to my dreams! But thou dwelleft in the foul of Malvina, fon of mighty Offian. My fighs arife with the beam of the eaft; my tears descend with the drops of night. I was a lovely tree, in thy prefence, Ŏfcar, with all my branches round me; but thy death came like a blast from the defart, and laid my green head low; the fpring returned with its showers, but no leaf of mine arofe. The virgins faw me filent in the hall, and they touched the harp of joy. The tear was on the cheek of Malvina: the virgins beheld me in my grief. Why art thou fad, they faid; thou firft of the maids of Lutha? Was he lovely as the beam of the morning, and stately in thy fight? Pleafant is thy fong in Offian's ear, daugh ter of ftreamy Lutha! Thou haft heard the mufic of departed bards in the dream of thy reft, when fleep fell on thine eyes, at the murmur of Moruth (1). When thou didst (1) Mor'-ruth, great fiream. return from the chace, in the day of the fun thou haft heard the mufic of the bards, and thy fong is lovely. It is lovely, O Malvina, but it melts the foul. There is a joy in grief, when peace dwells in the breaft of the fad. But forrow wastes the mournful, O daughter of Tofcar, and their days are few. They fall away, like the flower on which the fun looks in his ftrength after the mildew has paffed over it, and its head is heavy with the drops of night. Attend to the tale of Offian, O maid; he remembers the days of his youth. The king commanded; I raised my fails; and rushed into the bay of Croma; into Croma's founding bay in lovely Innis-fail (1). High on the coaft arose the towers of Crothar king of fpears; Crothar renowned in the battles of his youth; but age dwelt then around the chief. Rothmar raised the fword against the hero; and the wrath of Fingal burn ed. He fent Offian to meet Rothmar in battle, for the chief of Croma was the companion of his youth. I fent the bard before me with fongs; I came into the hall of Crothar. There fat the hero amidst the arms of his fathers, but his eyes had failed. His gray locks waved around (1) Innis-fail, one of the ancient names of Ire fand. |