thon fled. It was then I faw him in his beauty, and the tear hung in my eye. Thou art fallen (1), young tree, I faid, with all thy beauty round thee. Thou art fallen on thy plains, and the field is bare. The winds comé from the defart, and there is no found in thy leaves! Lovely art thou in death, fon of carborne Larthmor!

Nina-thoma fat on the shore, and heard the found of battle. She turned her red eyes on Lethmal, the gray-haired bard of Selma, for he had remained on the coaft, with the daughter of Torthóma. Son of the times of old! she faid, I hear the noise of death. Thy friends have met with Uthal, and the chief is low. O that I had remained on the rock, inclosed with the tumbling waves! Then

(1) To mourn over the fall of their enemies was a practice univerfal among Offian's heroes. This is more agreeable to humanity, than the shameful infulting of the dead, fo common in Homer, and after him, fervilely copied by all his imitators, the humane Virgil not excepted, who have been more fuccessful in borrowing the imperfections of that great poet, than in their imitations of his beauties. Homer, it is probable, gave the manners of the times in which he wrote not his own fentiments: Offian also seems to keep to the fentiments of his heroes. The reverence which the most barbarous highlanders have ftill for the remains of the deceafed, feems to have defcended to them from their most remote ancestors.

would

my foul be fad, but his death would not reach my ear. Art thou fallen on thy heath, O fon of high Finthormo! thou didst leave me on a rock, but my foul was full of thee. Son of high Finthormo! art thou fallen on thy heath?

She rofe pale in her tears, and faw the bloody shield of Uthal; she faw it in Offian's hand; her fteps were distracted on the heath. She flew; she found him; she fell. Her foul came forth in a figh. Her hair is fpread on his face. My bursting tears defcend. A tomb arose on the unhappy; and my fong was heard.

Reft, hapless children of youth! at the noife of that moffy ftream. The virgins will fee your tomb, at the chace, and turn away their weeping eyes. Your fame will be in the fong; the voice of the harp will be heard

in your praise. The daughters of Selma shall hear it; and your renown shall be in other lands.- Reft, children of youth, at the noise of the moffy stream.

Two days we remained on the coast. The heroes of Berrathon convened. We brought Larthmor to his halls; the feast of shells was fpread. The joy of the aged was great; he looked to the arms of his fathers; the arms. which he left in his hall, when the pride of Uthal arofe.We were renowned before

Larthmor, and he bleffed the chiefs of Morven; but he knew not that his fon was low, the ftately ftrength of Uthal. They had told that he had retired to the woods, with the tears of grief; they had told it; but he was filent in the tomb of Rothma's heath.

On the fourth day we raised our fails to the roar of the northern wind. Larthmor came to the coaft, and his bards raised the fong. The joy of the king was great, he looked to Rothma's gloomy heath; he faw the tomb of his fon; and the memory of Uthal rofe. Who of my heroes, he faid, lies there? he feems to have been of the kings of fpears. Was he renowned in my halls, before the pride of Uthal rofe?

Ye are filent , ye fons of Berrathon: is the king of heroes low? - My heart melts for thee, O Uthal! though thy hand was against thy father. O that I had remained in the cave! that my fon had dweit in Finthormo!

I might have heard the tread of his feet, when he went to the chace of the boar. I might have heard his voice on the blast of my cave. Then would my foul be glad : but now darkness dwells in my halls.

Such were my deeds, son of Alpin, when the arm of my youth was ftrong; fuch were (1) the actions of Tofcar, the car-borne (1) Offian speaks.

fon of Conloch. But Tofcar is on his flying cloud; and I am alone at Lutha: my voice is like the laft found of the wind, when it forfakes the woods. But Offian shall not be long alone, he fees the mift that shall receive his ghoft. He beholds the mist that shall form his robe, when he appears on his hills. The fons of little men shall behold me, and admire the ftature of the chiefs of old. They shall creep to their caves, and look to the sky with fear; for my fteps shall be in the clouds, and darkness shall roll on my fide.

Lead, fon of Alpin, lead the aged to his woods. The winds begin to rife. The dark wave of the lake refounds. Bends there not a tree from Mora with its branches bare? It bends, fon of Alpin, in the rustling blaft. My harp hangs on a blasted branch. The found of its ftrings is mournful.-Does the wind touch thee, O barp, or is it fome paffing ghoft! — It is the hand of Malvina! but bring me the harp, fon of Alpin; another fong shall rife. My foul shall depart in the found; my fathers shall hear it in their airy hall.

Their dim faces shall hang, with joy, from their clouds; and their hands receive their fon.

(1) The aged oak bends over the stream.

(1) Here begins the lyric piece, with which, tra

It fighs with all its mofs. The withered fern whistles near, and mixes, at it waves, with Offian's hair.-Strike the harp and raise the fong: be near, with all your wings, ye winds! Bear the mournful found away to Fingal's airy hall. Bear it to Fingal's hall, that he may hear the voice of his fon; the voice of him that praifed the mighty. The blaft of the north opens thy gates, O king! and I behold thee fitting on mift, dimly gleaming in all thine arms. Thy form now is not the terror of the valiant; but like a watry cloud; when we fee the ftars behind it with their weeping eyes. Thy shield is like the aged moon: thy fword a vapour half-kindled with fire. Dim and feeble is the chief, who travelled in brightnefs before.

But thy fteps (1) are on the winds of the

It

with

dition fays, Offian concluded his poems. is fet to mufic, and ftill fung in the north, a great deal of wild fimplicity but little variety

of found.

(1) This magnificent defcription of the power of Fingal over the winds and ftorms, and the image of his taking the fun and hiding him in the clouds do not correfpond with the preceding paragraph, where he his reprefented as a feeble ghoft, and no more the TERROR OF THE VALIANT; but it agrees with the notion of the times concern ing the fouls of the deceafed, it was fup pofed, had the command of the winds and ftorms, but in combat were not a match for valiant men

who

LY