ARGUMENT.

AN addrefs to Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar. The poet relates the arrival of Cathlin in Selma, to folicit aid again Duth-carmor of Cluba, who had killed Cathmol, for the fake of his daughter Lanul. Fingal declining to make a choice among his heroes, who were all claiming the command of the expedition; they retired each to his hill of ghofts; to be determined by dreams. The spirit of Trenmor appears to Offian and Ofcar they fail, from the bay of Carmona, and, on the fourth day, appear off the valley of Rathcol, in Inis-huna, where Duth-carmor had fixed his refidence. Offian dispatches a bard to Duth-carmor to demand

battle. Night comes on. The distress of Cathlin of Clutha. Offian devolves the command on Ofcar, who, according to the cuftom of the kings of Morven, before battle, retired to a neighbouring hill. Upon the coming on of day, the battle joins. Oscar

and Duth-carmor meet. The latter falls. Ofcar carries the mail and helmet of Duth-carmor to Cathlin, who had retired from the field. Cathlin is discovered to be the daughter of Cathmol, in disguise, who had been carried off, by force, by, and had made her escape from, Duth-carmor.

CATHLIN OF CLUTHA:

A

POE M.

COME (99), thou beam that art lonely, from watching in the night! The fqually winds are around thee, from all their echoing hills. Red, over my hundred ftreams, are the light-covered paths of the dead. They rejoice, on the eddying winds, in the feason of night. Dwells there no joy in long, white hand of the harps of Lutho? Awake the voice of the firing; roll my foul to me. It is a ftream that has failed, Malvina, pour the song.

I hear thee, from thy darkness, in

Selma, thou that watcheft, lonely, by night! Why didft thou with-hold the fong, from Offian's failing foul? As the falling brook to the ear of the hun ter, defcending from his form-covered hill; in a fun-beam rolls the echoing fiream; he hears, and shakes his dewy locks: fuch is the voice of Lutha, to the friend of the spirits of heroes. My fwelling bofom beats high. I look back on the days that are paft. Come, thou beam that art lonely, from watching in the night!

In the echoing bay of Carmona (100) we faw, one day, the bounding ship. On high, hung a broken fhield, it was marked with wandering blood. Forward came a youth, in arms, and firetched his pointless fpear. Long, over his tearful eyes, hung loose his difordered locks. Fingal gave the fhell of kings. The words of the ftranger arose. "In his hall lies Cathiol of Clutha,