in other lands. Three days he remained on the coaft, and turned his eyes on Conmor's halls. He remembered the daughter of ftrangers, and his figh arofe.-Now when the winds awaked the wave: from the hill came a youth in arms; to lift the sword with Cathmor in his echoing field. It was the white armed Sul-malla: fecret she dwelt beneath her helmet. Her fteps were in the path of the king; on him her blue eyes rolled with joy, when he lay by his roaring ftreams. But Cathmor thought, that, on Lumon, she ftill purfued the roes: or fair on a rock, ftretched her white hand to the wind; to feel its courfe from Inisfail the green dwelling of her love. He had promifed to return, with his white-bofomed fails.The maid is near thee, king of Atha, leaning on her rock.

The tall forms of the chiefs ftood around: all but dark-browed Foldath (1). He stood beneath a diftant tree, rolled into his haugh

(1) The furly attitude of Foldath, is a proper preamble to his after behaviour. Chaffed with the difappointment of the victory which he promised himfelf, he becomes paffionate and over-bearing. The quarrel which fucceeds between him and Malthos was, no doubt, introduced by the poet, to raife the character of Cathmor, whofe fuperior worth shines forth, in his manly manner of ending the difference between the chiefs.

ty foul. His bushy hair whiftles in wind. At times, burfts the hum of a fong.-He ftruck the tree, at length, in wrath, and rushed before the king.

Calm and ftately, to the beam of the oak, arose the form of young Hidalla. His hair falls round his blushing cheek, in wreaths of waving light. Soft was his voice in Clonra (1), in the valley of his fathers; when he touched the harp, in the hall, near his roaring ftreams.

King of Erin, faid the youth, now is the time of feafts. Bid the voice of bards arise, and roll the night away. The foul returns, from fong, more terrible to war.-Darkness fettles on Inis-fail: from hill to hill bend the skirted clouds. Far and grey, on the heath, the dreadful ftrides of ghofts are seen the ghofts of thofe who fell bend forward to their fong.-Bid thou the harps to rife, and brighten the dead, on their wandering blasts.

Be all the dead forgot, faid Foldath's burfting wrath. Did not I fail in the field, and shall I hear the fong? Yet was not my course harmlefs in battle: blood was a ftream around my steps. But the feeble were behind

(1) Claon-rath, winding field. The th are seldom pronounced audibly in the Galic language.

me, and the foe has escaped my fword.-In Clon ra's vale touch thou the harp; let Dura anfwer to thy voice; while fome maid looks, from the wood, on thy long, yellow locks. -Fly from Lubar's echoing plain : it is the field of heroes.

King of Temora (1), Malthos faid, it is thine to lead in war. Thou art a fire to our eyes, on the dark-brown field. Like a blast thou haft paft over hofts, and laid them low in blood; but who has heard thy words returning from the field? The wrathful delight in death their remembrance refts on the wounds of their spear. Strife is folded in their thoughts: their words are ever heard. -Thy courfe, chief of Moma, was like a troubled ftream. The dead were rolled on thy path but others alfo lift the fpear. We were not feeble behind thee, but the foe was strong.

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The king beheld the rifing rage, and bending forward of either chief: for halfunsheated, they held their fwords, and rolled their filent eyes.-Now would they have mixed in horrid fray, had not the wrath of

(1) This fpeech of Malthos is , throughout, a fevere reprimand to the bluftering behaviour of Foldath. It abounds with that laconic eloquence, and indirect manner of addrefs, which is fo juftly admired in the short speech of Ajax, in the ninth book of the Iliad.

Cathmor burned. He drew his fword: it gleamed thro' night, to the high-flaming oak.

Sons of pride, faid the king, allay your fwelling fouls. Retire in night.--Why should my rage arife? Should I contend with both in arms It is no time for ftrife. Retire, ye clouds at my feaft. Awake my foul no more. They funk from the king on either fide; like (1) two columns of morning mist, when the fun rifes, between them, on his glittering rocks. Dark is their rolling on either fide; each towards its reedy pool.

Silent fat the chiefs at the feaft. They looked, at times, on Atha's king, where he ftrode, on his rock, amidst his fettling foul. -The hoft lay, at length, on the field: fleep defcended on Moi-lena. The voice

(1) The poet could fcarcely find, in all nature, a comparison fo favourable as this to the fuperiority of Cathmor over his two chiefs I shail illuftrate this paffage with another from a fragment of an ancient poem, juft now in my hands. - As the fun is above the vapours, which his beams have raised; fo is the foul of the king above the fons of fear. They roll dark below him; he rejoices in the robe of his beams. But when feeble deeds wander on the foul of the king, he is a darkened fun rolled along the sky the valley is fad below: flowers wither beneath the drops of the night. »

of Fonar rofe alone, beneath his distant tree. It role in the praise of Cathmor fon of Larthon (1) of Lumon. But Cathmor did not hear his praife. He lay at the roar of a ftream. The ruftling breeze of night flew over his whiftling locks.

Cairbar came to his dreams, half-seen from his low-hung cloud. Joy rose darkly in

(1) Lear-thon, Sea-wave, the name of the chief of that colony of the Fir-bolg, which first migrated into Ireland. Larthon's firft fettlement in that country is related in the feventh book. He was the anceftor of Cathmor; and is here called Larthon of Lumon, from a high hill of that name in Inis-huna, the ancient feat of the Fir-bolg.-The poet preferves the character of Cathmor throughout. He had mentioned, in the first book, the averfion of that chief to praife, and we find him here lying at the fide of a ftream, that the noife of it might drown the voice of Fonar, who, according to the custom of the times, fung his eulogium in his evening fong. Tho' other chiefs, as well as Cathmor, might be averse to hear their own praise, we find it the univerfal policy of the times, to allow the bards to be as extravagant as they pleafed in their encomiums on the leaders of armies, in the prefence of their people. The vulgar who had " no great ability to judge for themselves, received the characters of their princes, entirely upon the faith of the bards. The good effects which an high opinion of its ruler has upon a community, are too obvious to require explanation; on the other hand, diftruft of the abilities of leaders produces the worst confequences.