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The battle is over, faid the king, and I behold the blood of my friends. Sad is the heath of Lena; and mournful the oaks of Cromla : thev hunters have fallen there in their ftrength ; and the fon of Semo is no more. Ryno and Fillan, my fons, found the horn of Fingal’s war. Afcend that hill on the shore, and call the children of the foe. Call them from the grave of Lamdarg, the chief of other times. Be your voice like that of your father, when he enters the battles of his ftrength. I wait for the dark mighty man ; I wait on Lena's shore for Swaran. And let him come with all his race; for strong in battle are the friends of the dead.

Fair Ryno flew like lightning; dark Fil

lan as the fhade of autumn. On Lena’s heath their voice is heard; the fons of ocean heard the horn of Fingal's war. As the roaring eddy of ocean returning from the kingdom of fnows; fo strong, fo dark, fo fudden came down the fons of Lochlin. The king in their front appears in the dismal pride of his arms. Wrath burns in his dark - brown 'face: and his eyes roll in the fire of his valour,

E 3 Fingal

7o FING AL, , Book III.

· Fingal beheld, the fon of Starno; and he

For Swaran

remembered Agandecca.
with the tears of youth had mourned his white-
bofoined fifter. He fent Ullin of the fongs,
to bid him to the feast of shells. For plea-
fant on Fingal’s foul returned the remembrance
of the first of his loves. - - * ,

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To-day, faid Starno's wrathful fon, we break the ccchoing fhields: to.- norrow my feaft will be spread; and Fingal lie on earth.

And to-morrow let his feaft be spread, faid Fingal with a finile; for to-day · o my fons, we shall break the ecchoing fhields. |Ostian, stand thou near my arm. Gaul, lift thy terrible fword Fergus, bend thy crocked yew. Throw , Fillan, thy lance through heaLift your fhields like the darkened moon. Be your spears the meteors of deathFollow nie in the path of my fame ; and equal ny deeds in battle, |

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As a hundred winds on Morven ; as the ftreams of a hundred hills; as clouds sy fuccestive over heaven; or, as the dark ocean asfaults the shore of the defert: fo roaring, fo vaft , fo terrible the armies mixed on Lena's The groan of the people

ecchoing heath.

fpread over the hills; it was like the thunder

of night, when the cloud bursts on Cona, and a thoufand ghosts fhriek at once on the hollow wind. :

Fingal rushed on in his frength, terrible as the spirit of Trenmor; when, in a whirlwind, he comes to Morven, to fee the children of his pride. The oaks refound on their hills,

and the rocks fall down before hin. Bloody was the hand of my father, when he whirled the lightning of his fword. He remembers the battles of his youth , and the field is wafted in his courfe. |- |

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me down, I. exfulted in the ftrength of the king. Many were the deaths of my arm; and dismal was the gleam of my fword. My locks were not then fo gray; nor trembled my hands

of age. My eyes were not closed in darknefs ; nor failed my feet in the race.

Who can relate the deaths of the people, or the deeds of mighty heroes; when Fingal, burning in his wrath, confumed the fons of Lochlin? Groans fwelled on groans from hill to hill, till night had covered all. Pale, ftaring like a herd of deer, the fons of Lochlin convene on Lena.

We fat and heard the sprightly harp ąt Lubar’s gentle stream. Fingal himself was next to the foe; and liftened to the tales of bards. His gọdlike race were in the fong, the chiefs of other times. Attentive, leaning on his hield, the king , of Morven fat. The wind whistled through his aged locks, and his thoughts are of the days of other years. Near hin, on his bending spear, my young, my lovely Ofcar ítood,

ed, The mention of the great aćtions cf his

youth inmediately fuggests to him the helt leís fituation of his age, We do not despite him for

felfish praife, but feel his misfortunes,

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ftood. He admired the king of Morven: and his actions were swelling in his foul.

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battle in their youth, and are the fong of bards. O Ofcar! bend the strong in arms: but spare the feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides against the foes of thy people;

but like the gale that moves the grafs, to those

who afk " thine aid. So Trenmor lived ; fuch Trathal was; and fuch has Fingal been. My arm was the fupport of the injured; and the weak refted behind the lightning of my fteel.

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most probable opinion is, that it was one of the E 5 Shet

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