tempt contracted his face, a fmile is on his dark-brown cheek; his red eye rolled, halfconceal'd, beneath his fhaggy brows.

WHENCE are the fons of the fea, begun the gloomy chief? Have the winds driven you to the rocks of Tromáthon? Or come you in fearch of the white-handed daughter of Nuäth? The fons of the unhappy, ye feeble men, come to the hand of Dunrommath. His eyes fpares not the weak; and he delights in the blood of ftrangers. Oithóna is a beam of light, and the chief of Cuthal enjoys it in fecret; would thou come on its lovelinefs like a cloud, fon of the feeble hand!---Thou mayft come, but shalt thou return to the halls of thy fathers?

DOST thou not know me, faid Gaul, redhaired chief of Cuthal? Thy feet were fwift on the heath, in the battle of car-borne Lathmon ; when the fword of Morni's fon pursued his hoft, in Morven's woody land. Dunrommath! thy words are mighty, for thy warriors gather behind thee. But do I fear them, fon of pride? I am not of the race of the feeble,

GAUL advanced in his arms; Dunrommath fhrunk behind his people. But the fpear of Gaul pierced the gloomy chief, and his fword lopped off his head, as it bended in death.-——————— The fon of Morni fhook it thrice by the lock;

the warriors of Dunrommath fled. The arrows of Morven purfued them: ten fell on the moffy rocks. The reft lift the founding fail, and bound on the echoing deep.

GAUL advanced towards the cave of Oithóna, He beheld a youth leaning against a rock. An arrow had pierced his fide; and his eye rolled faintly beneath his helmet.---The foul of Morni's fon is fad, he came and fpoke the words of peace.

CAN the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the mournful brow? I have fearched for the herbs of the mountains; I have gathered them on the fecret banks of their ftreams. My hand has clofed the wound of the valiant, and their eyes have bleffed the fon of Morni. Where dwelt' thy fathers, warrior? Were they of the fons of the mighty? Sadnefs fhall come, like night, on thy native ftreams; for thou art fallen in thy youth.

My fathers, replied the ftranger, were of the fons of the mighty; but they fhall not be fad; for my fame is departed like morning mift. High walls rife on the banks of Duvranna; and fee their moffy towers in the ftream; a rock afcends behind them with its bending firs. Thou mayft behold it far diftant. There my brother

dwells. He is renowned in battle: give him this glittering helmet.

THE helmet fell from the hand of Gaul; for it was the wounded Oithóna. She had armed herself in the cave, and came in fearch of death. Her heavy eyes are half closed; the blood pours from her fide.

SON of Morni, fhe faid, prepare the narrow tomb. Sleep comes, like a cloud, on my foul. The eyes of Oithóna are dim. O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the bright beam of my fame! then had my years come on with joy; and the virgins would blefs my fteps. But I fall in youth, fon of Morni, and my father thall blush in his hall.

SHE fell pale on the rock of Tromáthon. The mournful hero raised her tomb.-He came to Morven; but we faw the darknefs of his foul. Offian took the harp in the praife of Oithúna. The brightnefs of the face of Gaul returned. But his figh rofe, at times, in the midst of his friends, like blafts that shake their unfrequent wings, after the ftormy winds are laid.

CRO MA;

A PO E M*.

T was the voice of my love! few are his

vifits to the dreams of Malvina ! Open your airy halls, ye fathers of mighty Tofcar. Unfold the gates of your clouds; the steps of Mal

* Malvina the daughter of Toscar is overheard by Offian lamenting the death of Ofcar her lover. Offian, to divert her grief, relates his own actions in an expedition which he undertook, at Fingal's command, to aid Crothar the petty king of Croma, a country in Ireland, against Rothmar who invaded his dominions. The story is delivered down thus, in tradition. Crothar king of Croma being blind with age, and his fon too young for the field, Rothmar the chief of Tromlo refolved to avail himself of the opportunity offered of annexing the domi nions of Crothar to his own. He accordingly marched into the country fubject to Crothar, but which he held of Arth or Artho, who was, at the time, fupreme king of Ireland.

Crothar being, on account of his age and blindness, unfit for action, fent for aid to Fingal king of Scotland; who ordered his fon Offian to the relief of Crothar. But before his arrival Fovargormo, the fon of Crothar, attacking Rothmar, was flain himfelf, and his forces totally defeated. Offian renewed the war; came to battle, killed Rothmar, and routed his army. Croma being thus delivered of its enemies, Offian returned to Scotland.

vina's departure are near.

I have heard a voice

in my dream. I feel the fluttering of my foul. Why didft thou come, O blaft, from the darkrolling of the lake? Thy ruftling wing was in the trees, the dream of Malvina departed. But fhe beheld her love, when his robe of mift flew on the wind; the beam of the fun was on his fkirts, they glittered like the gold of the ftranger. It was the voice of my love! few are his vifits to my dreams!

BUT thou dwelleft in the foul of Malvina, fon of mighty Offian. My fighs arife with the beam of the eaft; my tears defcend with the drops of night. I was a lovely tree, in thy prefence, Ofcar, with all my branches round me; but thy death came like a blast from the defart, and laid my green head low; the spring returned with its fhowers, but no leaf of mine arofe. The virgins faw me filent in the hall, and they touched the harp of joy. The tear was on the cheek of Malvina: the virgins beheld me in my grief. Why art thou fad, they faid; thou firft of the maids of Lutha? Was he lovely as the beam of the morning, and stately in thy fight?

PLEASANT is thy fong in Offian's ear, daughter of ftreamy Lutha! Thou haft heard the mufic of departed bards in the dream of thy reft,

when