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“ The plaintive tone of Ossian's harp I hear;" So shall he mournful say, and drop a tear.
But from a world of misery releas’d,
Unhappy bard! worn down with age and care, To hear afflicting news thy mind prepare. Know, passing lately by Tor-lutha’s wall, No curling smoke ascended from the hall: Nor heard I voice of man, nor noise of hound; " The trees were still, and silence reign’d around: With cheeks, no longer flush'd with beauties glow, All pale appear’d the sisters of the bow; And when for fair Malvina I inquir’d, They at her name, in silent grief retir’d: Their eyes, like stars dim shining thro' a show'r, : Were bath'd in tears—to speak they had not pow'r.
Then is for ever set tliat beam divine? Too soon in Lutha hast thou ceast to shine!
As sinks the moon behind a cloud, and leaves
O’er Cona, far above the winged storm, Clouds heap'd on clouds an airy palace form; A globe immense, self-pois'd it floats on high, Another world between the earth and sky: There, as below, superior in the hall, Sits leaning on his spear the great Fingal; There his broad shield, dim gleaming to the sight, Looks like the pallid moon's departing light, When half her orb in ocean dipt remains, And other half beams sickly on the plains. On mists around repose his warlike train, Attentive to the sound of Ullin's strain; Whose shadowy fingers press the scarce-seen strings, While with a sweet, though feeble voice he sings. The lesser chiefs officious round resort, And with a thousand meteors light the court.
The lucid dome, Malvina slow ascends ; :
At her approach, Fingal the fair accosts ; Comes Toscar's daughter to the realm of ghosts? ' In Lutha sadness reigns, now thou art gone, And sorrow dwells around my aged son: Be cautious winds, when cleaving swift thro' air, You next to Morven's heath-clad hills repair; Molest not Lutha's solitary halls, Upon the arms that hang around the walls Breathe gently as you pass! for she, whose hair You wont to lift, resides no longer there. By yonder rock, where Lutha's waters flow, A rigid corpse she silent slumbers now! There whispering gales your balmy pinions spread, There fragrance breathe around her mossy bed, And when her maids, their dirge perform’d, go home, Supply their place, and sigh upon her tomb.
But from the dusky west, with misty hair, Who comes supported on an airy spear? A smile is on his gray and wat’ry face; Malvina! 'tis thy sire, his form embrace. “ Com'st thou,” he cries, “ bright object of my love, “ So soon to shine upon our clouds above? “ But solitary left, and worn with care, “ Thy wish was long to join thy friends in air,
“ And quit a race of feeble men, that claim .
Then has not yet great Conloch's son forgot, Our early friendship, and the battles fought In foreign parts; when conqu’ring side by side, Our youthful valour first the combat tried. As from two falling rocks, the foe withdrew Where'er we charg’d, exclaiming as they flew; : “ This way yon chiefs resistless sweep the plain; - Destruction marks their course with heaps of slain!"
Haste son of Alpin, haste! convey my lyre;
My canvass spreading, ('twas the king's command) Before a prosperous gale I quitted land, And bounded swift along the foaming tide, With Toscar, lord of Lutha, by my side. For distant Berrathon we bore away, A land surrounded by the boist'rous sea; Where late the hospitable Larthmore reign'd, Who at his board my father entertain'd;
Then when to Scandinavia's frozen clime,
Here, pent in durance, he for life had lain, If gray-hair'd Snitho had not pass'd the main ; And told Fingal, imploring his relief, The royal captive's misery and grief. The monarch heard, and snatch'd his spear in rage, Resolv'd t’avenge the insult done to age; Till recollecting that a war so mean, Would but the lustre of his actions stain; He gave in charge to Toscar and his son, The reinstating Larthmor on the throne. We put to sea, ambitious of th' employ And often half unsheath'd our swords for joy. For, ne'er before, entrusted with command, Were we commission'd to a foreign land.