fmall renown. "Thy words are many, fon of Semo, but where are thy deeds in arms? Why did we come, over ocean, to aid thy feeble sword? Thou flyeft to thy cave of grief, and Connan fights thy battles. Refign to me thefe arms of light. Yield them, thou chief of Erin.” "No hero," replied the chief, "ever fought the arms of Cuthullin! and had a thousand heroes fought them, it were in vain, thou gloomy youth! I fled not to the cave of grief, till Erin failed at her ftreams." "Youth of the feeble arm," faid Fingal, "Connan, cease thy words! Cuthullin is renowned in battle; terrible over the world. Often have I heard thy fame, thou ftormy chief of Inis-fail. Spread now thy white fails for the isle of mift. See Bragela leaning on her rock. Her tender eye is in tears; the winds lift her long hair from her heaving breast. She liftens to the breeze of night, to hear the voice of thy rowers *; to hear the fong of the fea! the found of thy diftant harp!" "Long fhall fhe liften in vain. Cuthullin fhall never return! How can I behold Bragela, to raise the figh of her breaft? Fin *The practice of finging when they row is univerfal among the inhabitants of the north-west coast of Scotland and the ifles. It deceives time, and infpirits the rowers. gal, gal, I was always victorious, in battles of other spears!" "And hereafter thou shalt be victorious," faid Fingal of generous fhells. "The fame of Cuthullin fhall grow, like the branchy tree of Cromla. Many battles await thee, O chief! Many fhall be the wounds of thy hand! Bring hither, Oscar, the deer! Prepare the feast of fhells. Let our fouls rejoice after danger, and our friends delight in our presence!". We fat. We feasted. We fung. The foul of Cuthullin rofe. The ftrength of his arm returned. Gladness brightened. along his face. Ullin gave the fong; Carril raised the voice. I joined the bards, and fung of battles of the fpear. Battles! where I often fought. Now I fight no more! The fame of my former deeds is ceased. I fit forlorn at the tombs of my friends! Thus the night paffed away in fong. We brought back the morning with joy. Fingal arofe on the heath, and fhook his glittering spear. He moved first toward the plains of Lena. We followed in all our arms. "Spread the fail," faid the king, “feize the winds as they pour from Lena." We rofe on the wave with fongs. We rushed, with joy, through the foam of the deep. ARGUMENT. Lathmon, a British prince, taking advantage of Fingal's abfence on an expedition in Ireland, made a descent on Morven, and advanced within fight of Selma, the royal refidence. Fingal arrived in the mean time, and Lathmon retreated to a hill, where his army was furprized by night, and himself taken prisoner by Offian and Gaul the fon of Morni. The poem opens, with the first appearance of Fingal on the coaft of Morven, and ends, it may be fuppofed, about noon the next day. LATH MON: A POEM. ELMA, thy halls are filent. 1 There is no found in the woods of Morven. The wave tumbles alone on the coaft. The filent beam of the fun is on the field. The daughters of Morven come forth, like the bow of the shower; they look towards green Erin for the white fails of the king. He had promised to return, but the winds of the north arose! Who pours from the eastern hill, like a ftream of darkness? It is the host of Lathmon, He has heard of the absence of Fingal. He trufts in the wind of the north. His foul brightens with joy. Why doft thou come, O Lathmon? The mighty are not in Selma. Why comeft thou with thy forward spear? Will the daughters of Morven fight? But ftop, O mighty ftream, in thy course! Does not Lathmon behold these fails? Why doft thou vanish, Lathmon, like the mift of the lake? But the fqually 1 |