terrible was Cuchullin in the day of his fame. Torlath fell by his hand, and Lego's heroes mourned. They gather around the chief like the clouds of the defert. A thousand fwords rofe at once; a thousand arrows flew; but he ftood like a rock in the midft of a roaring fea. They fell around; he ftrode in blood: dark Slimora echoed wide. The fons of Ullin came, and the battle spread over Lego. The chief of Erin overcame; he returned over the field with his fame. But pale he returned? The joy of his face was dark. He rolled his eyes in filence. The fword hung, unfheathed, in his hand, and his fpear bent at every ftep. mac will "Carril," faid the king in fecret, "the ftrength of Cuchullin fails. My days are with the years that are paft: and no mourning of mine fhall arife. They fhall feek me at Temora, but I fhall not be found. Corweep in his hall, and fay "Where is Tura's chief?" But my name is renowned! my fame in the fong of bards. The youth will fay in fecret, "O let me die as Cuchullin died; renown clothed him like a robe; and the light of his fame is great." Draw the arrow from my fide; and lay Cuchullin beneath that oak. Place the fhield of Caithbat near, that they may behold me amidft the arms of my fathers." "And is the fon of Semo fallen?" faid Carril with a figh. "Mournful are Tura's walls; and forrow dwells at Dunfcaich. Thy fpoufe is left alone in her youth, the fon¶ of thy love is alone. He fhall come to Bragela, and ask her why the weeps. He fhall lift his eyes to the wall, and fee his father's fword. "Whofe fword is that?" he will fay: and the foul of his mother is fad. Who is that like the hart of the defert, in the murmur of his courfe? His eyes look wildly round in fearch of his friend. Connal, fon of Colgar, where haft thou been, when the mighty fell? Did the feas of Conloch, who was afterwards very famous for his great exploits in Ireland. He was fo remarkable for his dexterity in handling the javelin, that when a good marksman is defcribed, it has paffed into a proverb, in the north of Scotland, Hejs unerring as the arm of Conloch,' Togorma roll round thee? Was the wind of the fouth in thy fails? The mighty have fallen in battle, and thou waft not there. Let none tell it in Selma, nor in Morven's woody land; Fingal will be fad, and the sons of the defert mourn.' "" By the dark-rolling waves of Lego they raised the hero's tomb. Luath †, at a distance, lies, the companion of Cuchullin, at the chafe. “Bleft|| be thy soul, son of Semo; thou wert mighty in battle. Thy ftrength was like the ftrength of a ftream: thy fpeed like the eagle's wing. Thy path in the battle was terrible: the fteps of death were behind thy fword. Bleft be thy foul, fon of Semo; car borne chief of Dunfcaich! Thou haft not fallen by the fword of the mighty, neither was thy blood on the fpear of the valiant. The arrow came, like the fting of death in a blaft, nor did the feeble hand, which drew the bow, perceive it. Peace to thy foul, in thy cave, chief of the ifle of mist! "The mighty are difperfed at Temora: there is none in Cormac's hall. The king mourns in his youth, for he does not behold thy coming. The found of thy fhield is ceased: his foes are gathering round. Soft be thy reft in thy cave, chief of Erin's wars! Bragela will not hope thy return, or fee thy fails in ocean's foam. Her fteps are not on the fhore: nor her ear open to the voice of thy rowers. She fits in the hall of fhells, and fees the arms of him that is no more. Thine eyes are full of tears, daughter of car-borne Sorglan! Bleft be thy foul in death, O chief of fhady Cromla!" It was of old, the cuftom to bury the favorite dog near the mafter. This was not peculiar to the ancient Scots, for we find it practised by many other nations in their ages of heroifm. There is a fione fhewn ftili at Dunfcaich, in the ifle of Sky, to which Cuchullin commonly bound his dog Luath, The ftone goes by his aame to this day. This is the fong of the bards over Cuchullin's tomb. Every ftanza clofes with fome remarkable title of the hero, which was always the custom in funeral elegi The verse of the song is a lyric measure; and it was of old fung to the harp. DAR-THULA: A POEM. THE ARGUMENT. It may not be improper here, to give the ftory which is the foundation of this poem, as it is handed down by tradition. Vinoth, lord of Etha, which is probably that part of Argyleshire which is near Loch Eta, an arm of the fea in Lorn, had three fons, Nathos, Aithos and Ardan, by Sliñama, the daughter of Semo, and fifter to the celebrated Cuchullin. The three brothers when very young, were fent over to Freland, by their father, to learn the ufe of arms under their uncle Cuchullin, who made a great figure in that kingdom. They were just landed in Ulfter when the news of Cuchullin's death arrived. Nathos, though very young, took the command of Cuchullin's army, made head againft Cairbar the ufurper, and defeated him in feveral battles. Cairbar at laft having found means to murder Cormae the lawful king, the army of Nathos fhifted fides, and he himself was obliged to return into Ulfter, in order to pass over into Scotland. Dar-thula, the daughter of Colla, with whom Cairbar was in love, refided, at that time, in Selama, a cafle in Ulfter; fhe faw, fell in love, and fled with Nathos; but a ferm rifing at fea, they were unfortunately driven back on that part of the coaft of Uifter, where Cairbar was encamped with his army, waiting for Fingal who meditated an expedition into Ireland, to re-establish the Scottish race of kings on the throne of that kingdom. The three brothers, after having defended themfelves, for fome time, with great bravery, were overpowered and flain, and the unfortunate Dar-thula killed herself upon the body of her beloved Nathos. Ofan opens the poem, on the night preceding the death of the fons of Ufnoth, and brings in, by way of epifode what paffed before. He relates the death of Dar. thula differently from the common tradition; his account is the most probable, as fuicide feems to have been unknown in thofe carly times: for no traces of it are found in the old poetry. DAUGHTER of heaven †, fair art thou! the filence of thy face is pleafant. Thou comeft forth in lovelinefs: the ftars attend thy blue fteps in the eaft. The clouds rejoice in thy prefence, O moon, and brighten their dark-brown fides. Who is like thee in heaven, daughter of the night? The ftars are afhamed in thy prefence, and turn afide their green, fparkling eyes. Whither doft thou retire from thy course, when the darknets of thy countenance grows? Haft thou thy hall like Offian ? Dwelleft thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy fifters fallen from heaven? Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more? Yes! they have The addrefs to the moon is very beautiful in the original. It is in a lyric meg. fure, and appears to have been fung to the harp. The poet means the moon in her wane. fallen, fair light! and thou doft often retire to mourn. But thou thyfelf fhalt fail, one night; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The ftars will then lift their green heads: they who were afhamed in thy prefence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightnefs: look from thy gates in the fky. Burft the cloud, O wind, that the daughter of night may look forth, that the fhaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its blue waves in light. Nathos is on the deep, and Althos that beam of youth; Ardan is near his brothers; they move in the gleam of their courfe. The fons of Ufnoth move in the darkness, from the wrath of car-borne Cairbar. Who is that dim, by their fide? the night has covered her beauty. Her hair fighs on ocean's wind; her robe ftreams in dufky wreaths. She is like the fair fpirit of heaven, in the midst of his shadowy mist. Who is it but Dar-thula T, the firft of Erin's maids? She has fled from the love of Cairbar, with the car-borne Nathos. But the winds deceive thee, O Dar-thula; and deny the woody Etha to thy fails. These are not thy mountains, Nathos, nor is that the roar of thy climbing waves. The halls of Cairbar are near; and the towers of the foe lift their heads. Ullin ftretches its green head into the fea; and Tura's bay receives the ship. Where have ye been, ye fouthern winds! when the fons of my love were deceived? But ye have been sporting on plains, and purfuing the thiftle's beard. Othat ye had been ruftling in the fails of Nathos, till the hills of Etha rofe! till they rofe in their clouds, and faw their coming chief! Long haft thou been abfent, Na: thos! and the day of thy return is past. But the land of ftrangers faw thee, lovely: thou waft lovely in the eyes of Dar-thula. Thy face was like the † Nathos fignifies youthful; Ailthos, exquifite beauty;' Ardan, 'pride.' Cairbar, who murdered Cormac king of Ireland, and ufurped the throne. He was afterwards killed by Ofcar the fon of Offian in a fingle combat. The poet, upon other occafions gives him the epithet of red-haired. Dar-thula, or Dart-'huile, a woman with fine eyes.' She was the moft famous beauty of antiquity. To this day, when a woman is praised for her beauty, the common phrafe is, that he is as lovely as Dar-thula.' light of the morning, thy hair like the raven's wing. Thy foul was generous and mild, like the hour of the fetting fun. Thy words were the gale of the reeds, or the gliding stream of Lora. But when the rage of battle rofe, thou waft like a fea in a ftorm; the clang of arms was terrible: the hoft vanished at the found of thy courfe. It was then Dar-thula beheld thee, from the top of her moffy tower: from the tower of Selama †, where her fathers dwelt. "Lovely art thou, O tranger!" the faid, for her trembling foul arofe. "Fair art thou in thy battles, friend of the fallen Cormac! Why doft thou rush on, in thy valour, youth of the ruddy look? Few are thy hands, in battle, against the car-borne Cairbar! O that I might be freed of his love ! that I might rejoice in the prefence of Nathos! Bleft are the rocks of Etha; they will behold his fteps at the chafe! they will fee his white bofom, when the winds lift his raven hair!" Such were thy words, Dar-thula, in Selama's moffy towers. But, now, the night is round thee: and the winds have deceived thy fails. The winds have deceiv ed thy fails, Dar thula: their bluftering found is high. Ceafe a little while, O north wind, and let me hear the voice of the lovely. Thy voice is lovely, Dar-thula, between the rustling blafts. "Are thefe the rocks of Nathos, and the roar of his mountain ftreams? Comes that beam of light from Ufnoth's nightly hall? The mift rolls around, and the bear is feeble; but the light of Dar-thula's foul is the car-borne chief of Etha! Son of the generous Ufnoth, why that broken figh? Are we not in the land of ftrangers, chief of echoing Etha?" "Thefe are not the rocks of Nathos," he replied, "nor the roar of his ftreams. No light comes from The poet does not mean that Selama, which is mentioned as the feat of Tofcar in Uifter, in the poem of Conlath and Cuthona. The word in the original fignifies either beautiful to behold, or a place with a pleafant or wide profpect. In those times they built their houfes upon eminences, to command a view of the country, and to prevent their being furprised: many of them on that account, were called Selama. The famous Selma of Fingal is derived from the fame root. Cormao the young king of Ireland, who was murdered by Cairwer. |