But what should become of thy fame, fon of white-bofomed Clatho? Turn not thine eyes from Fingal, daughter of Iniftore. I shall not quench thy early beam; it shines along my foul. But rife, O wood-skirted Mora, rife, between the war and me! Why should Fingal behold the ftrife, left his dark-haired warrior should fall!-Amidst the song, O Carril, pour the found of the trembling harp: here are the voices of rocks, and bright tumbling of waters. Father of Oscar lift the fpear; defend the young in arms. Conceal thy steps from Fillan's eyes. He muft not know that I doubt his fteel.-No cloud of mine shall rife, my fon, upon thy foul of fire!

He funk behind his rock, amidft the found of Carril's fong.-Brightening, in my grow. ing foul, I took the spear of Temora ( 1 ).

room to the poet for introducing thofe affecting fcenes which immediately fucceed, and are among the chief beauties of the poem.They who can deny art to Offian in conducting the catastrophe of Temora, are certainly more prejudiced against the age he lived in, than is consistent with good fenfe. I cannot finish this note without obferving the delicacy and propriety of Fingal's addrefs to Offian. By the appellation of the father of Ofcar, he raises at once, in the mind of the hero, all that tendernefs for the fafety of Fillan, which a fituation fo fimilar to that of his own fon when he fell, was capable to suggest.

1)The Spear of Temora was that which Ofcar

I faw, along Moi-lena, the wild tumbling of battle, the ftrife of death, in gleaming rows, disjoined and broken round. Fillan is a beam of fire from wing to wing is his wafteful courfe. The ridges of war melt be fore him. They are rolled, in fmoak, from the fields.

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(1) Now is the coming forth of Cathmor,

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the

had received, in a prefent, from Cormac fon of Artho, king of Ireland. It was of it that Cairbar made the pretext for quartelling with Ofcar, at the feaft, in the firft book. After the death of Ofcar we find it always in the hands of Offian. It is faid, in another poem, that it was preferved. as a relique, at Temora, from the days of Conar, the fon of Trenmor, the firft king of Ireland.

(1) The appearance of Cathmor is magnificent: his unconcerned gait and the effect which his very voice has upon his flying army, are circumftances calculated to raise our ideas of his fuperior merit and valour. Offian is very impartial with regard to his enemies this however, cannot be faid of other poets of great eminence and unqueftioned 'merit. Milton, of the firft clafs of poets, is undoubtedly the most irreprehenfible in this refpect; for we always pity or admire his Devil but feldom deteft him, even tho' he is the archenemy of our fpecies. Mankind generally take fides with the unfortunate and daring. It is from this difpofition that many readers, tho' otherwife good christians have almoft wished fuccefs to Satan, in his defperate and daring voyage from hell, through the regions of chaos and night.

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in the armour of kings! Dark-rolled the eagle's wing above his helmet of fire. Unconcerned are his fteps, as if they were to the chace of Atha. He raifed, at times, his dreadful voice; Erin, abashed, gathered round. Their fouls returned back”, like a ftream: they wondered at the fteps of their fear for he rofe, like the beam of the morning on a haunted heath: the traveller looks back, with bending eye, on the field of dreadful forms.

Sudden, from the rock of Moi-lena, are Sul-malla's trembling steps. An oak took the fpear from her hand; half-bent she loofed the lance but then are her : eyes on the king, from amidst her wandering locks. No. friendly ftrife is before thee: no light contending of bows, as when the youth of Cluba (1) came forth beneath the eye of Con

mor.

As the rock of Runo,which takes the passing clouds for its robe, feems growing, in gathered darkness, over the ftreamy heath; so

(1) Clu-ba, winding bay; an arm of the sea in Inis-huna, or the western coast of South-Britain. It was in this bay that Cathmor was wind-bound when Sul-malla came, in the disguise of a young warrior, to accompany him in his voyage to Ireland. Conmor, the father of Sul-malla, as we learn from her foliloquy at the clofe of the fourth book, was dead before the departure of his daughter.

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feemed the chief of Atha taller, as gathered his people round. As different blafts fly over the fea, each behind its dark-blue wave fo Cathmor's words, on every fide, poured his warriors forth.--Nor filent on his hill is Fillan; he mixed his words with his echoing shield. An eagle he feemed, with founding wings, calling the wind to his rock, when he fees the coming forth of the roes on Lutha's (1) rushy field.

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Now they bent forward in battle: death's hundred voices rofe; for the kings, on either fide, were like fires on the fouls of the people. -I bounded along; high rocks and trees rushed tall between the war and me. But I heard the noise of steel, between my clanging arms. Rifing, gleaming, on the hill, I beheld the backward fteps of hosts: their backward fteps, on either fide, and wildlylooking eyes. The chiefs were met in dreadful fight; the two blue-shielded kings. Tall and dark, thro' gleams of fteel are feen the ftriving heroes. I rushed. My fears for Fillan few, burning across my foul.

I came ; nor Cathmor fled; nor yet advan⚫

(1) Lutha was the name of a valley in Morven in the days of Offian. There dwelt Tofcar the fon of Conloch, the father of Malvina, who, upon that account, is often called the maid of Lutha. Lutha fignifies Swift ftream.

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ced he fidelong ftalked along. An icy rock, cold, tall he feemed. I called forth all my fteel. Silent awhile we ftrode, on either fide of a rushing ftream: then, fudden turning, all at once, we raised our pointed fpears. We raised our fpears, but night came down. It is dark and filent around; but where the distant steps of hofts are founding over the heath.

I came to the place where Fillan (1) fought. Nor voice, nor found is there. A broken helmet lay on earth; a buckler cleft in twain, Where, Fillan, where art thou, young chief of echoing Morven He heard me leaning against a rock, which bent its grey head over the ftrean. He heard; but fullen, dark he stood. At length I saw the chief.

Why ftandeft thou, robed in darkness, fon of woody Selma Bright is thy path, my brother, in this dark-brown field. Long has been thy ftrife in battle. Now the horn of Fingal his heard. Ascend to the cloud of

(1) The scenery of the place where Fillan fought, and the fituation of that hero are picturefque and affecting. The dittrets, which fucceeds, is heightened by Offian's being ignorant for fome time that his brother was wounded. This kind of fufpence is frequent in Offian's poems. The more unexpected a thing is, the greater impreffion it makes on the mind when it comes.