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For fame, not hatred, your forefathers fought;
Their rivalship in arms should be forgot,
Since now the chiefs in Odin's hall above,
The happy seat of harmony and love,
Immers'd in joys, with ancient heroes dwell,
And friendly stretch their hands to give the shell.
Like them be reconcil'd, forgive past rage,
And shun the vices of a barb'rous age.

My words had weight; the lovers' cause prevail'd;
I join'd their hands, the King their union seal'd.
Malvina thus, before these silver hairs
Were whiten'd by the length of passing years,
I could a Princess, bright in beauty's charms,
Forego, and yield her to a rival's arms.
A gen'rous deed with pleasure fills the mind,
And, well recorded, benefits mankind.



COLLA, an Irish Chief, being killed in battle, Dar-thula, his daughter, becomes the prisoner of Cairbar, who falls violently in love with her. But while lie preferred his suit, the sons of Usnoth, JVathos, Althos, and Arden, who were enemies to Cairbar, pass that way. At their approach he flies to avoid them. Dar-thula becomes enamoured of JVathos, and takes shipping with the three brothers for Scotland, their native country. But a storm rising, they are driven back on that part of the coast where Cairbar was encamped with his army. The three brothers, after a brave defence, overpowered, are slain; and the unfortunate Dar-thula, wounded in the conflict, expires on the body of her beloved JVathos.

The poem opens with an apostrophe to the moon. In the course of the narration, are introduced, by way of episodes, various circumstances explanatory of the story; which makes it one, if not the most diversified and interesting of Ossian's lesser compositions.



HOW fair art thou, bright daughter of the spheres!

Serene and full thy lovely face appears;

Thy glory fills the vast ethereal space,

Innumerable stars thy presence grace,

Red twinkling round.—The dark brown clouds of night

Forbear to frown, and brighten in thy sight:

O'er all the spangled vault no orb is seen

Like thine superior, large, unrival'd queen!

The stars behold thy progress thro' thy skies,

And envious turn aside their sparkling eyes.

To what far region, or sequester'd place

Dost thou resort, when shadows veil thy face?

Like aged Ossian, when thy darkness grows,

Hast thou some secret hall to vent thy woes?

Perhaps the sisters of thy youthful years

Have fail'd in heav'n, and light no more the spheres.

Yes, they have fail'd, fair orb! and to thy hall

Thou oft retir'st, to mourn their hapless fall.

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