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But mov'd unaw'd to meet the hostile band,
Her lifted javelin shining in her hand.
Young Arden too and Althos sought th' alarms,
Both blooming fair, both resolute in arms.
When Etha's chief, ere yet he threw his spear:
Lo! high Temora's king, thy rival here!
Then boldly sally forth, and prove thy might,
It's Nathos dares thee to the single fight;
And who survives the victory to claim,
His be the glory, and the lovely dame.
Against a stranger cast upon thy coast,
Tis mean to summon a whole nation's host.
I met thee once in arms, but Cairbar flew,
For then my followers equal'd his he knew.
Now by an army back'd he proffers war,
Because he sees my friends are distant far.

The gloomy tyrant hearing, inly burn'd
With indignation, and severe return'd,
Youth of the heart of pride, shall I advance,
And stain with vulgar gore my royal lance?
Thy sires are not renown'd, nor glorious shine
Among the first of men, like Atha's line.
Are in their halls the arms, and bucklers seen
Of mighty chiefs, in former battles slain?
But were it so, I am a king, and scorn
To fight with little men plebeian born.

The son of Usnoth stung, without reply On his companions silent cast his eye,

Whose Whose vengeful darts with his that instant flew,

And sent with force, three mighty warriors slew.

Then brandishing their swords, they rush'd along,

And sprung impetuous midst the thickest throng.

The ranks bor'd through, give back; as clouds recede

When their dark ridges the loud blasts invade.

Red Cairbar saw, and bade his men afar,

Maintain a distant desultory war;

At his command a cloud of shafts they pour,

And Usnoth's sons fall buried in the show'r.

So fall three oaks, that far from any wood,

On the bleak summit of some hill have stood,

Till in their strength the hurricanes descend,

And from th' adhering cliffs the saplings rend.

The passenger, who saw them lately grow,

That way returning, now beholds them low;

And wonders how alone, and plac'd so high,

They could so long the stormy winds defy.

Beside the dead, with long dishevell'd hair, Dar-thula stood, an image of despair: The blooming rose her faded cheek forsook, . Approaching death star'd ghastly in her look. She would have spoke, but fault'ring on her tongue, The words half-form'd, in sounds imperfect hung. Cairbar drew near, and thus insults her woe; Ungrateful maid, where is thy lover now? Thy hopes have fail'd of reaching Etha's land Or where Fingal in Morven holds command.

Had

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Had not the winds thy hasty flight withstood,
I had pursued and drench'd those realms in blood;
Fingal had bled amidst his vanquish'd pow'rs,
And sorrow dwelt in Selma's ancient tow'rs.

Thus while he ranted in unmanly strain,
The virgin's shield dropp'd sounding on the plain.
Her iv'ry skin appear'd in crimson dy'd,
A feather'd shaft stood rooted in her side.
Yet constant to the last, her Nathos' breast,
White as a wreath of snow, she sinking prest,
Her hair spread o'er his face, while mixing round
Their blood, a purple current, steep'd the ground.

Cairbar beheld, and grieving when too late, Commands his hundred bards to mourn her fate. These struck their harps, and thus the maid bewail'd: "Hath then the first of Erin's beauties fail'd! "Let silence reign, where high Selama's brow "O'erlooks the solemn-rolling streams below; "And let the subject realms her death deplore, "The ancient race of Truthil is no more! "Here the last relick of the lineage lies; "Returning morn shall not unseal her eyes, "Nor rising sun her heavy slumbers break, "And say, Dar-thula, peerless maid, awake! "On gentle wings soft blows the fanning breeze, "In verdure cloth'd appear the mountain trees;

"Unnumber'd

"Unnumber'd flow'rs with sweets perfume the air,
"And smiling spring renews the joyful year.
"These scenes could once the virgin's soul excite,
"And call her forth, but they no more delight!
"She cannot burst the prison of the tomb,
"Nor lovely rise again in beauty's bloom."

Thus o'er Dar-thula sung the tuneful train,
When they her tomb erected on the plain.
I after sought the place, and mournful paid
Sad elegiac honours to the maid;
Then when Fingal to Ullin cross'd the main,
O'erthrew the tyrant, and reveng'd the slain.

CROMA.

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