voice of night. At diftance from the heroes he lay, for the fon of the fword feared no foe. My

When lo! the Thade, before his clofing eyes,
Of fad Patroclus rofe or feem'd to rife,
In the fame robe he living wore, he came
In itature, voice, and pleafing look the fame.
The form familiar hover'd o'er his head,
And fleeps Achilles thus the phantom said,

POPE

In fomnis ecce ante oculos mæftiffimus Hector
Vifus adeffe mihi, largosque effundere fletus,
Raptatus bigis, ut quondam, aterque cruento
Pulvere, perque pedes trajectus lora tumentes.
Hei mihi qualis erat! quantum mutatus ab illo
Hectore, qui redit exuviis indutus Achillis
Vel Danaum Phrygios jaculatus puppibus ignes &
Squallentem barbam & concretos fanguine crines,
Vulneraque illa gerens, quæ circum plurima muros
Accepit patrios.
En, lib. 2.
When Hector's ghoft before my fight appears:
A bloody fhroud he feem'd, and bath'd in tears.
Such as he was, when, by Pelides flain,
Theffalian courfers drag'd him o'er the plain.
Swoln were his feet, as when the thongs were

thrust

Through the bor'd holes, his body black with duft.
Unlike that Hector, who return'd from toils
Of war triumphant, in Aacian fpoils:

Or

My hero faw in his reft a dark-red stream of fire coming down from the hill. Crugal fat upon the beam, a chief that lately fell. He fell by the hand of Swaran; ftriving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the fetting moon; his robes are of the clouds of the hill; his eyes are like two decaying flames. Dark is the wound of his breast.

Crugal, faid the mighty Connal, fon of Dedgal famed on the hill of deer. Why fo pale and fad, thou breaker of the fhields? Thou haft never been pale for fear. What

disturbs the fon of the hill?

Dim, and in tears, he ftood and ftretched

his pale hand over the hero.

Faintly he raised his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego.

My ghoft, o Connal, is on my native. hills; but my corfe is on the fands of Ullin. Thou shalt never talk with Crugal, or find his lone fteps in the heath. I am light as the blaft of Cromla, and I move like the fhadow of

Or him, who made the fainting Greeks retire,'
And launch'd against their navy Phrygian fire.
His hair and beard ftood fliffen'd with his gore;
And all the wounds he for his country bore.

2

of mift. Connal, fon of Colgar [2], I fee
the park cloud of death: it hovers over the
plains of Lena. The fons of green Erin fhall
fall. Remove from the field of ghofts.
Like the darkened moon [3] he retired, in
the midst of the whiftling blaft.

Stay, faid the mighty Connal, ftay, my dark red friend. Lay by that beam of heaven, fon of the windy Cromla. What cave of the hill is thy lonely houfe? What green-headed hill is the place of thy reft? Shall we not hear thee in the ftorm? in the noife of the mountain- ftream? When the feeble fons of the wind come forth, and ride on the blaft of the defart.

The foft-voiced Connal rofe in the midft of his founding arms. He ftruck his fhield above Cuchullin. The fon of battle waked.

Why,

[2] Connal the fon of Caithbat, the friend of Cuchullin, is fometimes, as here, called the son of Colgar; from one of that name who was the founder of his family.

[3] ψυχη δέ κατα χθονός, ηΰτε καπνὸς

Ωχετο τετριγυΐα

HOм. II. 23, v. 100.

POPE.

Like a thin fmoke he fees the fpirit fly,
And hears a feeble, lamentable cry,

Why, faid the ruler of the car, comes Connal through the night? My fpear might turn against the found?, and Cuchullin mourn the death of his friend. Speak, Connal, fon of Colgar, fpeak, thy counfel is like the fon of heaven.

Son of Semo, replied the chief; the ghoft of Crugal came from the cave of his hill. The ftars dim- twinkled through his form; and his voice was like the found of a diftant stream. He is a meffenger of death. He speaks of the dark and narrow houfe. Sue for peace, o Chief of Dunscaich; or fly over the heath of

Lena.

He spoke to Connal, though ftars dim- twinkled

replied the hero, through his form. Son of Colgar, it was the wind that murmured.

Or if it was the

in the caves of Lena. form [4] of Crugal, why didit thou not forcé

him

[4] The poet teaches us the opinions that prevailed in his tiine concerning the ftate of feparate fouls. From Connal's expreffion, "That the ftars dimtwinkled through the form of Crugal," and Cuchullin's reply, we may gather, that they both thought the foul was material; fomething like the sidwhoy of the ancient Greeks,

him to my fight. Haft thou enquired where is his cave? the houfe of the fon of the wind? My fword might find that voice, and force his knowledge from him. And fmall is his knowledge, Connal, for he was here to day. He could not have gone beyond our hills, and who could tell him there of our death?

Ghofts Hy on clouds and ride on winds, faid Connal's voice of wisdom. They reft together in their caves, and talk of mortal men.

ran.

Then let them talk of mortal men; of every man but Erin's chief. Let me be forgot in their cave; for I will not fly from SwaIf I muft fall, my tomb fhall rife amidft the fame of future times. The hunter fhall fhed a tear on my ftone; and forrow dwell round the high-bofomed Bragéla. I fear not death, but I fear to fly, for Fingal faw me often victorious. Thou dim phantom of the hill, fhew thyself to me! come on thy beam of heaven, and fhew me my death in thine hand; yet will I not fly, thou feeble fon of the wind. Go, fon of Colgar, ftrike the fhield of Caithbat, it hangs between the fpears. Let my heroes. rife to the found in the midft of the battles of Erin. Though Fingal delays his coming