Ardven? But did my fathers ever fly? The mark of their arm is in a thousand battles. Ofcar too fhall be renowned! Come, ye dim ghosts of my fathers, and behold my deeds in war! I may fall; but I will be renowned like the race of the echoing Morven." He flood, growing in his place, like a flood in a narrow vale! The battle came, but they fell: bloody was the fword of Ofcar! The noise reached his people at Crona; they came like a hundred ftreams. The warriors of Caros fled; Ofcar remained like a rock left by the ebbing fea. Now dark and deep, with all his fteeds, Caros rolled his might along: the little ftreams are loft in his course; the earth is rocking round. Battle fpreads from wing to wing: ten thousand swords gleam at once in the sky. But why should Offian fing of battles? For never more shall my steel shine in war. I remember the days of my youth with grief; when I feel the weakness of my arm. Happy are they who fell in their youth, in the midst of their renown! They have not beheld the tombs of their friend; or failed to bend the bow of their ftrength. Happy art thou, O Ofcar, in the midst of thy rufhing blaft. Thou often goeft to the fields of thy fame, where Caros fled from thy lifted fword. Darkness Darkness comes on my foul, O fair daughter of Tofcar! I behold not the form of my fon at Carun; nor the figure of Oscar on Crona. The ruftling winds have carried him far away; and the heart of his father is fad. But lead me, O Malvina! to the found of my woods; to the roar of my mountain ftreams. Let the chase be heard on Cona; let me think on the days of other years. And bring me the harp, O maid! that I may touch it, when the light of my foul fhall arife. Be thou near, to learn the fong; future times fhall hear of me! The fons of the feeble hereafter will lift the voice on Cona; and, looking up to the rocks, fay, "Here Offian dwelt." They fhall admire the chiefs of old, the race that are no more! while we ride on our clouds, Malvina on the wings on the wings of the roaring winds. Our voices fhall be heard, at times, in the defart; we shall fing on the breeze of the rock. ARGUMENT. An address to Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar. The poet relates the arrival of Cathlin in Selma, to folicit aid against Duth-carmor of Cluba, who had killed Cathmol, for the fake of his daughter Lanŭl. 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 fpirit 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. Ofcar 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 difcovered to be the daughter of Cathmol, in difguife, who had been carried off, by force, by, and had made her escape from, Duth-carmor. |