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He grinn'd a scornful smile; but to the plan

Adopted first, still steady kept his clan

Rang'd on the hills secure. Like clouds that spread

Their drizzly wings on Cona's lofty head;

Till, by a sudden blast dislodg'd, they fly

Dispers'd o'er all th' illimitable sky.

The day far spent, at length to Teutha's side Was Colmar brought, his hands behind him tied. O'er all the croud majestic rose his size: The chief look'd sad, on us he fix'd his eyes; (Who under arms oppos'd in silence stood, Between us only the swift-passing flood.) When, lo! Dunthalmo basely in our sight, With his own hand dispatch'd the hapless knight: Transpierc'd he fell: his broken sighs we heard, And saw with blood the purpled banks besmear'd. Who could withhold ?—Young Calthon wild with rage, Plung'd through the stream the assassin to engage. I follow'd close, supported by my spear: With equal fury fir'd our men appear; They breast the rapid flood, that refluent roars, And white with foam, indignant beats its shores. We forded swift—nor sooner gain'd the banks, Than fierce we plung'd amid the hostile ranks. Heaps fell on heaps, and more had fall'n, but night Descending dark, unfinish'd left the fight.

We

We kept the field, resolv'd at break of day
The foe to attack; who still contiguous lay
Within a neighbouring wood —Beneath an oak
Dunthalmo rested on a moss-grown rock;
Against the Chief of Clutha burn'd his hate,
Nor deem'd his vengeance till his death complete.
No less enrag'd the mournful Calthon stood;
Resolv'd to die, or spill the tyrant's blood,
And 'venge his brother's death, in youth decreed,
Ere he acquir'd a hero's fame, to bleed.

Studious the warrior's stormy soul to still,
I bade my bards essay their tuneful skill;
But vain their efforts: even while they sung,
Impassion'd more, on earth his lance he flung,
Defiance hurling.—Colmal pensive view'd
The frantic fit, and tears her eyes bedew'd:
Full well she saw, now war could have no mean,
And Galthon or Dunthalmo must be slain.

The night, in darkness veiling nature's face,
On silent wings had measur'd half her race;
While with the service of the day oppress'd,
The weary troops enjoy'd refreshing rest.
All but the stranger Chief, who still awake,
Heard in their rocky beds the waters break.
When lo! his brother's ghost before him stood,
The wound Dunthalmo gave yet mark'd with blood.

All

All pale approach'd the harbinger of grief,
And in a feeble voice address'd the Chief:—

"O sole remaining hope of Rathmor's race! •. "Thy brother murder'd, canst thou rest in peace? "Did we not to the chase together go, "Together o'er the hills pursue the roe? "In blood and friendship intimately join'd, "Hath death so soon eras'd me from thy mind? "At Lona's rock my breathless body lies; "To save the relics of thy brother rise! "In some sequester'd place his corpse secrete, "Before the foe fresh insults can repeat." He said; and instant vanishing from sight, Borne on the murm'ring blast, dissolv'd in night.

In clanging armour Calthon sprung.—The maid Arose, and follow'd thro' the gloomy shade, Disconsolate, fatigued, and void of strength, Dragging along the spear's unwieldy length. Arriv'd at Lona's lonely rock, they found The mangled body stretch'd upon the ground. When Calthon saw, his kindled fury rose, On slaughter bent he rush'd amidst the foes. Deep groans ascend; but soon enclos'd around, They seiz'd, and brought him to Dunthalmo bound. A shout of triumph shook the starry frame, The hills of night return'd the loud acclaim.

From

From sleep awaken'd by the sudden sound,
My spear I grasp'd, and started from the ground.
Diaran rising at my side appear'd,
And valiant Dargo stood in arms prepar'd:
But horror chill'd our hearts, when looking round,
The stranger warriors no where could be found.
The cause unknown, and dreading loss of fame,
I thus address'd my friends—O grief! O shame!
What torpor numb'd, what fear withheld our hands?
Not thus our fathers fought in foreign lands;
They pass'd not night in indolent repose,
While near encamp'd, unconquer'd lay their foes.
Like eagles active, vigilant, and strong,
Their gallant deeds recorded are in song;
We their descendants, a degenerate race,
The great achievements of such men disgrace.
How will Fingal with fire indignant glow,
If we chastise not this insidious foe?
Let each his helmet brace, fix firm his shield,
And trace my rapid course along the field;
This monster of a king I will subdue,
Or never more the walls of Selma view.

Now rising morn had brighten'd Teutha's stream,
When, wrap'd in grief, to meet us Colmal came.
She told how Calthon, by the hostile bands
A pris'ner made, was in Dunthalmo's hands.
This heard, no longer doubting he was dead,
I on the stranger frown'd, and sternly said:

O Son

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Son of the feeble hand! thus shedding tears,
Do Teutha's warriors meet the strife of spears?
Unmanly grief can nought thy friend avail,
With steel, and not with tears, the brave assaiL
Go, recreant youth, pursue the tim'rous roe,
Or tend thy father's herds on Carmun's brow;
But quit a load thou wert not born to bear,
These arms some more deserving chief shall wear.

I said; and seizing rude her mail, laid bare
The breasts and snowy bosom of the fair!
When she, whom all till then had deem'd a knight,
Before us stands, a maid divinely bright;
With eyes cast down, and face that lovely glows
In all the beauties of the blushing rose.
The spear fell from my hand, in wonder lost;
Tears trickled down, and thro' the pitying host
The soft infection ran.—But when her name
The virgin told, I blest the radiant Beam,
And firm resolv'd, (if yet he breath'd) her love
To free or die; I bade to battle move.

'Twas bravely fought.—Nor till their leader slain, Were put to flight the gallant hostile train; Of those that perish'd, or by whom they fell, That memorable day, who now can tell? Their names forgot, no longer fame resounds, Nor on the heath are seen their verdant mounds:

These

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