I am

pity? They do not regard their father.
fad, o Carmor, nor fmall my cause of woe!

Such were the words of the bards in the days of fong; when the king heard the mufic of harps, and the tales of other times. The chiefs gathered from all their hills, and heard the lovely found.. They praised the voice *) of Cona! the first among a thousand bards. But age is now on my tongue; and my foul has failed. I hear, fometimes, the ghofts of bards, and learn their pleafant fong. But memory fails in my mind; I hear the call of years. They say, as they pafs along, why does Offian fing? Soon fhall he lie in the narrow houfe, and no bard fhall raife his fame.

Roll on, ye dark-brown years, for ye bring no joy on your courfe. Let the tomb open to Offian, for his ftrength has failed. The fons of fong are gone to reft: my voice remains, like a blast, that roars, lonely, on a fea - furrounded rock, after the winds are laid. The dark mofs whistles there, and the diftant mariner fees the waving trees.

*) Offian is sometimes poetically called the voice of Cona.

CAL

CALTHON AND COLMAL:

A POEM *).

leafant is the voice of thy fong, thou lonely dweller of the rock. It comes on the found of the ftream, along the narrow vale. My foul awakes, o ftranger! in the midst of my hall. I ftretch my hand to the fpear, as

in

*) This piece, as many more of Offian's compofitiis addreffed to one of the firit Chriftian

ons,

miffionaries.

The story of the

poem is hand

In the coun

ed down, by tradition, thus
try of the Britons between the walls, two chiefs
lived in the days of Fingal, Dunthalmo, lord of
Teutha, fuppofed to be the Tweed; and Rath-
mor, who dwelt at Clutha, well known to be
the river Clyde.
Rathmor was not more
renowned for his generofity and hospitality, than
Dunthalino was infamous for his cruelty and am-
bition. Dunthalmo, through envy, or on
account of fome private feuds, which fubfifted
between the families, murdered Rathmor at a
feaft; but being afterwards touched with re-
morfe,

M 2

bofom grows.

I ftretch my

in the days of other years. hand, but it is feeble; and the figh of my Wilt thou not listen, son of the rock, to the fong of Offian? My foul is full of other times; the joy of my youth returns. Thus the fun *) appears in the west,

after

morfe, he educated the two fons of Rathmor
Calthon and Colmar, in his own house.
They growing up to man's estate, dropped fome
hints, that they intended to revenge the death of
their father, upon which Dunthalmo fhut them
up in two caves on the banks of Teutha, intend-
ing to take them off privately.
Colmal,
the daughter of Dunthalmo, who was fecretly
in love with Calthon, helped him to make his
efcape from prifon, and fled with him to Fingal,
disguifed in the habit of a young warrior, and
implored his aid against Dunthalmo. Fingal
fent Offian with three hundred men, to Colmar's
relief,
Dunthalmo having previously mur-
dered Colmar, came to a battle with Offian: but
he was killed by that hero, and his army totally
defeated.

Calthon married Colmal, his deliverer; and
Offian returned to Morven.

*) If chance the radiant fun with farewel fweet
Extend his evening beam, the fields revive,

The

after the steps of his brightnefs have moved be. hind a storm; the green hills lift their dewy heads the blue ftreams rejoice in the vale. The aged hero comes forth on his staff, and his grey hair glitters in the beam.

Doft thou not behold, fon of the rock, a shield in Offian's hall? It is marked with the ftrokes of battle; and the brightness of its bosfes has failed. That fhield the great Dunthalmno bore, the chief of streamy Teutha, Dunthalmo bore it in battle, before he fell by Offian's fpear. Liften, fon of the rock, to the tale of other years.

Rath

The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds
Atteft their joy, that hill and valley rings.

MILTON,

Their fair fun-fhine in fummer's day;
When a dreadful ftorm away is flit,
Through the broad world doth spread his goodly

tay;

At fight whereof each bird that fits on spray,
And every beast that to his den was fled,
Come forth afresh out of their late dismay,
And to the light lift up their drooping head.

SPENCER.

Rathmor was a chief of Clutha. The feeble dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rathmor were never closed; his feast was always fpread. The fons of the ftranger caine, and bleffed the generous chief of Clutha. Bards raised the song,

and touched the harp; and joy brightened on the face of the mournful. Dunthalmo ca

me, in his pride, and rufhed into the combat The chief of Clutha overcame : He came,

of Rathmor.

the rage of Dunthalmo rofe.

by night, with his warriors; and the mighty Rathmor fell. He fell in his halls, where his feaft was often fpread for ftrangers.

Colmar and Calthon were young, the fons of car-borne Rathmor. They came, in the joy of youth, into their father's hall. They behold him in his blood, and their bursting tears defcend. The foul of Dunthalmo melted, when he faw the children of youth; he brought them to Alteutha's *) walls; they grew in the houfe of their foe.

They

bent

*) Al - teutha, or rather Balteutha, the town of

A

Tweed, the name of Dunthalmo's feat. It is obfervable, that all the names, in this poem, are derived from the Galic language; which, as I have remarked in a preceding note, is a proof that it was once the univerfal language of the whole ifland,