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Like a rock with its trickling waters ftood Cathmor in his tears. Her voice came, a breeze, on his foul, and waked the memory of her land; where she dwelt by her peaceful streams, before he came to the war of Conmor.

Daughter of ftrangers, he faid, (she trembling turned away) long have I marked in her armour, the young pine of Inis-huna.

-But my foul, I faid, is folded in a storm. Why should that beam arife, till my steps return in peace? Have I been pale in thy prefence, when thou bidft me to fear the king-The time of danger, O maid, is the season of my foul; for then it swells, a mighty ftream, and rolls me on the foe.

Beneath the mofs-covered rock of Lona; near his own winding ftream; grey in his locks of age, dwells Clonmal (1) king of

battle. From this proceeded that title of honour which is always bestowed on him in tradition, Fion-ghal na buai', FINGAL OF VICTORIES. In a poem, just now in my hands, which celebrates fome of the great actions of Arthur the famous British hero, that appellation is often beftowed on him. - The poem, from the phraseology, appears to be ancient; and is, perhaps, tho' that is not mentioned a tranflation from the Welsh language.

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(1) Claon-mal, crooked eye-brow. From the retired life of this perfon, it appears, that he was

harps. Above him is his echoing oak, and the dun bounding of roes. The noise ( 1 ) of our ftrife reaches his ear, as he bends in the thoughts of years. There let thy reft be, Sul-malla, until our battle cease. Until I return, in my armis, from the skirts of the evening mift that rifes, on Lona, round the dwelling of my love.

A light fell on the foul of the maid; it rofe kindled before the king. She turned her face to Cathmor; her locks are ftruggling with winds. Sooner (2) shall the eagle of heaven

of the order of the Druids; which fuppofition is not, at all, invalidated by the appellation of king of harps, here beftowed on him; for all agree that the bards were of the number of the Druids originally.

(1) By this circumftance, the poet infinuates, that the valley of Lona was very near the field of battle. In this indirect manner of narration, confifts the great difference between poetical and histo rical narration.

(2) In after ages, the allufions of the bards, to particular paffages of the works of Offian, were very numerous. I have met with a poem, which was writ three centuries ago, in which the bard recommends, to a lady of his own times, the behaviour of Sulmalla, in this place. The poem has little to recommend it, excepting the paffage, of which I am to give a tranflation here. The bards, when they alluded to the works of Offian, feem to have caught fome portion of his fire: upon other occafions

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be torn, from the ftream of his roaring wind, when he fees the dun prey, before him, the young fons of the bounding roe, than thou, O Cathmor, be turned from the ftrife of re

their compositions are little more than a group of epithets reduced into meafure. Only their poems, upon martial fubjects, fall under this cenfure. Their love fonnets, and paftoral verses, are far from wanting their beauties; but a great deal of thefe depend upon a certain curiofa felicitas of expreffion in the original; fo that they would appear greatly to their difadvantage in another language. What the modern [ bards are moft infupportable in, are their nauseous panegyrics upon their patrons. We fee, in them, a petty tyrant, whofe name was never heard, beyond the contracted limits of his own valley, stalking forth in all the trappings of a finished hero. From their frequent allufions, however, to the entertainments which he gave, and the strength of his cups, we may eafily guess from whence proceeded the praife of an indolent and effeminate ráce of men: for the bards, from the great court paid, originally, to their order became, at laft, the most flagitious and difpirited of all mortals. Their compofitions, therefore, on this fide of a certain period, are dull and trivial to the highest degree. By lavishing their praifes upon unworthy objects, their panegyricks became common and little regarded; they were thruft out of the houses of the chiefs, and wandered about, from tribe to tribe, in the double capacity of poet and harper. Galled with this ufage, they betook themfelves to fatire and lampoon, so that the compofitions of the bards, for more than a century back, are almost altogether of the sarcastical kind. In this they fucceeded well; for as there is no language more copious than the Galic, fo there is fcarcely any equally adapt. ed_to those quaint turns of expreffion which belongs

nown. Soon may I fee thee, warrior, from the skirts of the evening mift, when it is rolled around me, on Lona of the streams. While yet thou art diftant far, strike, Cathmor, frike the shield, that joy may return to my darkned foul, as I lean on the moffy rock. But if thou should fall-I am in the land of ftrangers ;-O fend thy voice, from thy cloud, to the maid of Inis-huna.

Young branch of green-headed Lumon; why doft thou shake in the ftorm? Often has Cathmor returned, from darkly-rolling wars. The darts of death are but hail to me; they

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to fatire. Tho' the chiefs difregarded the lampoons of the bards, the vulgar, out of mere fear, received them into their habitations, entertained them, as well as their circumftances would allow, and kept exifting, for fome years, an order, which, by their own mifmanagement, had deservedly fallen into contempt.

To return to the old poem, which gave occafion to this note. It is an addrefs to the wife of a chief, upon the departure of her husband to war. The paffage, which alludes to Sul-malla, is this:

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Why art thou mournful on rocks; or lifting thine eyes on waves? His ship has bounded towards battle. His joy is in the murmur of fields. Look to the beams of old, to the virgins of Offian of harps. Sul-malla keeps not her eagle, from the field of blood. She would not tear her eagle, from the founding course of renown. »

have often bounded from my shield. I have rifen brightned from battle, like a meteor from a ftormy cloud. Return not, fair beam, from thy vale, when the roar of battle grows. Then might the foe efcape, as from my fathers of old.

They told to Son-mor (1), of Clunar (2), flain by Cormac the giver of shells. Three days darkned Son-mor, over his brother's fall. His fpoufe beheld the filent king, and forefaw his fteps to war. She prepared the bow, in fecret, to attend her blue-shielded hero. To her dwelt darkness, at Atha, when the warrior moved to his fields. From their hundred ftreams, by night, poured down the fons of Alnecma. They had heard the shield of the king, and their rage arofe. In clanging arms, they moved along, towards

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(1) Són-mor, tall handsome man. He was the father of Borbar-duthul, chief of Atha, and grandfather to Cathmor himself. The propriety of this epifode is evident. But, tho' it appears here to be only introduced as an example to Sul-malla; the poet probably had another defign in view, which was further to illuftrate the antiquity of the quarrel between the Firbolg and Caël.

(2) Cluan-er, man of the field. This chief was killed in battle by Cormac Mac-Conar, king of Ireland, the father of Rofcrana, the first wife of Fingal, The story is alluded to in other poems.

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