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every perilous toil. Hard heart, that never yields. Chief of the pointed arms of death. Cut down the foe; let no white fail bound round dark Inistore. Be thine arm like thunder. Thine eyes like fire, thy heart of folid rock. Whirl round thy fword as a meteor at night, and lift thy fhield like the flame of death. Son of the chief of generous steeds, cut down the foe; destroy. The hero’s heart beat high. But Swaran came with battle. He cleft the fhield of Gaul in twain; and the fons of the defart fled.
Now Fingal arofe in his might, and thrice he reared his voice. Cromla anfwered around, and the fons of the defart stood ftill. They bent their red faces to earth, afhamed at the prefence of Fingal. He came like a cloud of rain in the days of the fun, when flow it rolls on the hill, and fields exfpest the fhower. Swaran beheld the terrible king of. Morven, and stopped in the midst of his courfe. Dark he leaned on his fpear, rolling his red eyes around. Silent and tall he feemed as an oak on the banks of Lubar, which had its branches blafted of old by the lightning of heaven. It bends over the ftream, and the
} gray mofs whistles in the wind : fo ftood the king. Then flowly he retired to the riling heatlı of Lena. His thousands pour around the
hero, and the darkness of battle gathers on the hill. . >
Fingal, like a beam from heaven, fhone in the midft of his people. His heroes gather around him, and he fends forth the voice of his power. Raife my ftandards [ 7 ] on high, – fpread them on Lena's wind, like the flames of an hundred hills. Let them found on the windse of Erin, and reinind us of the fight. Ye fons of the roaring streams, that pour from a thoufund hills, be near the king of Morven: attend to the words of his power. Gaul, strongest arm of death! O Ofcar, of the future fights ; Connal, fon of the blue steel of Sora; Dermid of the dark-brown hair, and Ostian - king of many fongs, be near your father’s arm.
 Th’ imperial enfign, which full high advanc'd,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind.
 Fingal's standard was distinguished by the name of fun-beam; probably on account of its brìght
4 exsulted with joy, as, waving, it flew on the wind. It was studded with gold above, as the blue wide fhell of the nightly fky. Each hero had his standard too; and each his gloomy
Behold, fid the king of generous fhelis, how Lochlin divides on Lena. They ftand like broken clouds on the hill, or an half consumed grove of oaks; when we fee the fky through its branches, and the meteor paffing behind. Let every chief among the friends of Fingal take a dark troop of those that frown fo high; nor let a fon of the ecchoing groves bound on the waves of Inistore.
Mine, fầid Gaul, be the feven chiefs, that came from Lano’s lake. Let Inistore's dark king, faid Oscar, come to the fword of Ostian’s fon. To mine the king of Iniscon , faid Connal, heart of steel! Or Mudan's chief or I, faid brown - haired Dermid , íhall fleep on clay - cold earth. My choice, though now fo weak and dark, was Terman's battling king; I pronised, with my hand to win the
hero's colour, and its being studded with gold. To begin a battle is expressed , in old composition, by lifting of the Jun - beam.
hero's dark-brown fhield. – Bleft and viÉłorious be my chiefs, faid Fingal of the mildeft look; Swaran, king of roaring waves, thou art the choice of Fingal.
Now, like an hundred different winds, that pour through many vales ; divided, dark, the fons of the hill advanced, and Cromla ecchoed around:
How can i relate the deaths, when we clof. ed in the strife of our feel? O daughter of Toscar! bloody were our hands! The gloomy ranks of Lochlin fell like , the banks of the roaring Cona. – Our arms were victorious on Lena; each chief fulfilled his promife. Befide the murmur öf Branho thơu didft often fit, o máid; when thy white bofom rofe frequent, like the down of the fwan, when flow she fails the lake, and fidelong winds are blowing. Thou haft feen the fun  retire red and flow
 Sol qiioqué, & exoriens & cum je condit in undas,
flow behind his cloud; night gathering round on the mountain, while the unfrequent blaft [io] roared in narrow vales. At length the rain beats hard; and thunder rolis in peals. Light. ning glances on the rocks. Spirits ride on beams of fire. And the strength of the moun. tain - streams [I 1] cones roaring down the hills.
- - Such
Above the reft the fun, who never lies,
[ Io ] Continuo ventis furgentibus aut freta ponti