every perilous toil. yields. Chief of the Hard heart, that never 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 fteeds, 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 ftood 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 exfpect the fhower. Swaran beheld the terrible king of, Morven, and ftopped 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 gray mofs whiftles in the wind: fo ftood the king. Then flowly he retired to the riling heath of Lena. His, thoufands 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. Raise my standards [7] on high,fpread them on Lena's wind, like the flames of an hundred hills. Let them found on the winds of Erin, and remind us of the fight. Ye fons of the roaring ftreams, that pour from a thousand hills, be near the king of Morven : attend to the words of his power. Gaul, ftrongeft arm of death! O Ofcar, of the future fights; Connal, fon of the blue fteel of Sora; Dermid of the dark-brown hair, and Offian king of many fongs, be near your father's arm. We reared the fun-beam [8] of battle; the standard of the king. exfulted [7] Th' imperial enfign, which full high advanc'd, Shone like a meteor ftreaming to the wind. MILTON. [8] Fingal's ftandard was diftinguished by the name of fun-beam; probably on account of its bright colour, exfulted with joy, as, waving, it flew on the wind. It was ftudded with gold above, as the blue wide fhell of the nightly fky. Each hero had his ftandard too; and each his gloomy men. Behold, faid the king of generous fhells, how Lochlin divides on Lena. They ftand like broken clouds on the hill, or an half confumed grove of oaks; when we see the fky through its branches, and the meteor paling behind. Let every chief among the friends of Fingal take a dark troop of thofe that frown fo high; nor let a fon of the ecchoing groves bound on the waves of Inistore. Mine, faid Gaul, be the feven chiefs, that Let Inistore's dark king, faid Ofcar, come to the fword of Offian's fon. —— To mine the king of Iniscon, faid Connal, heart of fteel! Or Mudan's chief or I, faid brown haired Dermid, fhall fleep on clay cold earth. My choice, though now fo weak and dark, was Terman's battling king; I promised, with my hand to win the came from Lano's lake. hero's colour, and its being ftudded with gold. To begin a battle is expreffed, in old compofition, by lifting of the fun- beam. &torious be my chiefs, faid Fingal of the mildest 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 ftrife of our fteel? O daughter of Tofcar! bloody were our hands! The gloomy ranks of Lochlin fell like the banks of the roaring Cona. Our arms were victorious on Lens; each chief fulfilled his promife. Befide the murmur of Branno thou didst often fit, o maid; when thy white bofom rofe frequent, like the down of the fwan, when flow fhe fails the lake, and fidelong winds are blowing. Thou haft feen the fun [9] retire red and Ποιν [9] Sól qüoqué, & cxoriens & cum fe condit in undas, Bayerische VIRG. Above flow behind his cloud; night gathering round on the mountain, while the unfrequent blast [10] roared in narrow vales. At length the rain beats hard; and thunder rolls in peals. Light ning glances on the rocks. Spirits ride. on beams of fire. And the ftrength of the moun tain ftreams. [11] comes roaring down the hills. Such Above the reft the fun, who never lies, Frugal of light, in loose and ftraggling ftreams: [10] Continuo ventis furgentibus ant freta ponti Incipiunt agitata tumefcere; aridus altis For ere the rifing winds begin to roar, VIRG. The working feas advance to wash the shore; The rapid rains, defcending from the hills, |