Were he who fought with little men, near Atha's darkening chief: Atha's darkening chief would yield green Erin his rage. Speak not of the mighty, O Cairbar! but turn thy fword on me. Our strength is equal: but Fingal is renowned! the firft of mortal men!

Their people faw the darkening chiefs. Their crowding fteps are heard around. Their eyes roll in fire. A thousand fwords are half unsheathed. Red-haired Olla raised the song of battle the trembling joy of Ofcar's foul arofe: the wonted joy of his soul, when Fingal's horn was heard.

Dark as the fwelling wave of ocean before the rifing winds, when it bends its head near a coaft, came on the host of Cairbar. -Daughter of Tofcar (1)! why that tear? He is not fallen yet. Many were the deaths of his arm before my hero fell!-Behold they fall before my fon like the groves in the defart, when an angry ghoft rushes through night, and takes their green heads in his hand! Morlath falls: Maronnan dies: Conachar trembles in his blood. Cairbar shrinks before Ofcar's fword, and creeps in darkness behind his ftone. He lifted the

(1) The poet means Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar, to whom he addreffes that part of the poem, which relates to the death of Ofcar her lover.

fpear in fecret, and pierced my Ofcar's fide. He falls forward on his shield: his knee fuftains the chief. But ftill his fpear is in his hand. See gloomy Cairbar (1) falls! The fteel pierced his fore-head, and divided his

(1) The Irish hiftorians place the death of Cairbar, in the latter end of the third century: they fay, he was killed in battle against Ofcar the fon of Offian, but deny that he fell by his hand. As they have nothing to go upon but the traditions of their bards, the tranflator thinks that the account of Offian is as probable at the worst, it is but oppofing one tradition to another.

It is, however, certain, that the Irish hiftorians difguife, in fome measure, this part of their history. An Irish poem on this subject, which, undoubtedly, was the fource of their information, concerning the battle of Gabhra, where Cairbar fell, is just now in my hands. The circumftances are lefs to the disadvantage of the character of Cairbar, than thofe related by Offian. As a tranflation of the poem (which, tho' evidently no very antient compofition, does not want poetical merit) would extend this note to too great a length, I shall only give the ftory of it, in brief, with fome extracts from the original Itish.

Ofcar, fays the Irish bard, was invited to a feaft, at Temora, by Cairbar king of Ireland. A difpute arofe between the two heroes, concerning the exchange of fpears, which was ufually made between the guests and their hoft, upon fuch occafions. In the courfe of their altercation, Cairbar faid, in a boaftful manner, that he would hunt on the hills of Albion, and carry the spoils of

red

red hair behind. He lay, like a shattered rock, which Cromla shakes from its shaggy fide. But never more shall Ofcar rife! he leans on his boffy shield. His fpear is in his terrible hand: Erin's fons food diftant and dark. Their shouts arofe, like crowded ftreams; Moi-lena echoed wide.

it into Ireland, in fpite of all the efforts of its inhabitants. The original words are;

Briathar buan fin; Briathar buan

A bheireadh an Cairbre rua',
Gu tuga' fe fealg, agus creach

A h'ALBIN an la'r na mhaireach.

Ofcar replied, that, the next day, he himself would carry into Albion the fpoils of the five provinces of Ireland; in spite of the oppofition of Cairbar.

Briathar eile an aghai' fin

A bheirea' an t'Ofcar, og, calma
Gu'n tugadh fe fealg agus creach

Do dh'ALBIN au la'r na mhaireach, &c. Ofcar, in confequence of his threats, begun to lay wafte Ireland; but as he returned with the spoil into Ulfter, through the narrow pafs of Gabhra ( Caoilghlen-Ghabhra) he was met, by Cairbar, and a battle enfued, in which both the heroes fell by mutual wounds. The bard gives a very curious lift of the followers of Ofcar • as they marched to battle. They appear to have been five hundred in number, commanded, as the poet expreffes it, by five heroes of the blood of kings. This poem mentions Fingal, as arriving from Scotland, before Ofcar died of his wounds.

VOL. III

D

Fingal heard the found; and took his father's fpear. His fteps are before us on the heath. He spoke the words of woe. I hear the noife of war. Young Ofcar is alone. Rife, fons of Morven ; join the hero's fword.

Offian rushed along the heath. Fillan bounded over Moi-lena. Fingal ftrode in his ftrength, and the light of his shield is terrible. The fons of Erin faw it far diftant; they trembled in their fouls. They knew that the wrath of the king arofe: and they forefaw their death. We firft arrived; we fought; and Erin's chiefs withstood our rage. But when the king came, in the found of his courfe, what heart of fteel could stand! Erin fled over Moi-lena. Death pursued their flight.

We faw Ofcar on his shield. We faw his blood around. Silence darkened every face. Each turned his back and wept. The king ftrove to hide his tears. His grey beard whistled in the wind. He bent his head above his fon. His words were mixed with fighs.

And art thou fallen, Oscar, in the midst of thy courfe? the heart of the aged beats over thee! He fees thy coming wars. The wars which ought to come he fees, but they are cut off from thy fame. When shall joy dwell at Selma? When shall grief depart

from Morven? My fons fall by degrees: Fingal shall be the laft of his race. The 13 fame which I have received shall pass away: my age will be without friends. I shall fit a grey cloud in my hall: nor shall I hear the return of a fon, in the midst of his founding arms. Weep, ye heroes of Morven ! never more shall Ofcar rife!

1.

ey

e

And they did weep, O Fingal ; dear was the hero to their fouls. He went out to battle, and the foes vanished; he returned, in peace, amidst their joy. No father mourned his fon flain in youth; no brother his brother of love. They fell, without tears, for the chief of the people was low! Bran (1) is howling at his feet: gloomy Luath is fad for he had often led them to the chace; to the bounding roe of the defart.

When Ofcar faw his friends around, his breaft arofe with fighs. The groans, he faid, of aged chiefs, the howling of my dogs, the fudden burfts of fongs of grief, have melted Ofcar's foul. My foul, that never melted before; it was like the fteel

of my fword. Oflian, carry me to my

(1) Bran was one of Fingal's dogs.

He was

fo remarkable for his fleetnefs, that the poet, in a piece which is not just now in the tranflator's hands has given him the fame properties with Virgil's Camilla, Bran fignifies a mountain-ftream.