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At length, our steadier valour turn'd the day;
My sword descending with resistless sway,
Cut Uthal down—When their proud leader dead,
His people saw, they trembled and they fled.

The fallen chief, as I at leisure view'd,
His features lovely, though with blood imbu'd,
Forgetting ev'ry recent cause of hate,
I wept for pity, and thus mourn'd his fate.

"Young plant, alas! extended on the plain, "Vain thy once stately height, thy beauty vain! "No more thy branches, waving high in air, "Shall yield protection to the heath left bare; "Nor in the desart breeze shall rustling sound "Thy leaves, now shorn, and with'ring on the ground. "Yet comely still, and lovely e'en in death, "Looks Larthmor's son, extended on the heath.''

Mean time, the clamors of the neighbouring fray Reach'd Nanathoma, sat beside the sea. Who guessing at the scene of blood that past, Her eyes, that stream'd with tears, on Lethmal cast; (An aged bard to guard her left behind,) To whom she thus disclos'd her troubled mind. "I hear the shouts of war; with Uthal's train, "Thy friends have met—perhaps the chief have slain. f' Ah! that inclosed amidst the stormy tide f I had remain'd, and there in secret died:


"Then never would the news have reach'd my ear,

"Nor added anguish to the woes I bear.

"Hark; nearer still the growing clangors spread;

"The son of Larthmor is among the dead!

*' Inconstant youth, though thou my death design'd,

"Still true to thee, is this unalter'd mind.

"Another shout!—and follow'd by a moan—

"Ah me! it may be Uthal's dying groan."

She weeping said, and hast'ning to the field,
In Ossian's hand beheld his bloody shield.
Aghast she saw, and turning from the view,
Along the heath with steps distracted flew;
Where pale in death, and lifeless on the ground,
Amidst a heap of slain, the chief she found;
Then silent on the corpse herself she cast,
And in short sobs convulsive breath'd her last!
Nor after death forsook her strict embrace,
But clasp'd him still, her hair spread o'er his face.
None that beheld, from sorrow could refrain;
A tomb we raised above them on the plain,
And while around in silence stood the throng,
Myself compos'd this elegiac song.
"Rest hapless pair, in youth's first early bloom,.
"Stretch'd in the dreary mansion of the tomb!
"Beside this purling stream interr'd you have,
"All that avails the dead !—a decent grave.
"When at the chase, the virgins passing here,
M Will often pay the tribute of a tear;


"To music set the story of your woe,
"Will to the harp in mournful cadence flow;
"This Selma's pitying daughters will repeat,
"And distant nations long lament your fate!
"Rest hapless pair, in youth's first early bloom,
"Stretch'd in the dreary mansion of the tomb."

These rites funereal to the lovers paid,
Two days encamp'd upon the coast we staid.
Meantime the natives, of their own, accord,
Convene around, and own their ancient lord;
From prison freed, the monarch we escort,
'Midst the applauding multitude to court.
Finthorma's royal residence we found,
A spacious hall, with glitt'ring arms hung round:
Arms by a race of kings, who war admir'd,
In fighting fields from vanquish'd foes acquir'd,
To these oft Larthmor look'd, assur'd the sight,
To men who valour priz'd, would give delight.

Now pleasure reign'd: distinguish'd and caress'd, The sons of Morven shar'd the royal feast. The king sent round the shell, with joy elate; Nor knew he then his son's untimely fate; Which to conceal, a rumour had been spread, That grieving for his crime, the prince was fled ""' To foreign shores; in exile to remain, Till time should do away rebellion's stain.


Such to the father the account convey'd,
But silent in the tomb the youth was laid.

Three days had now elaps'd; when dawn'd the fourth,
Invited by a breeze that sprung from north,
I took my leave, embark'd, and hoisting sail,
For hilly Morven flew before the gale.

Meantime the king, (who with a num'rous band Of minstrels, had attended to the strand His parting friends) was moving from the shore, When Uthal's monument appear'd before, On Rothma's heath. Surpris'd, he stopp'd, and said; "Which of my chiefs deceased hath here been laid? "This lofty mound of late conjested earth, "Proclaims its tenant of no vulgar birth: "If one not rais'd while Uthal held the throne, "To me his rank and lineage must be known. "What! silent all ?—You can no more disguise! "The prince is dead, and here interr'd he lies. "My son, my son! rebellious and unkind, "Yet dotes on thee, for all thy guilt, this mind; "Oh! that in prison still I had remain'd, "And thou in high Finthorma peaceful reign'd. "Then would, at times, thy tread have reach'd the place, "And issuing early to the mountain chase, "The sound, though distant, of thy pleasing voice, "Would have reviv'd, and made my soul rejoice.


"No solace can be mine, for I have lost

"An only child, my age's joy and boast!

"Depriv'd of him, in darkness I remain; * ./

"Life is a blank, existence but a pain I"

Absorb'd in sorrow, thus the father moan'd; In tears around, the sad attendants groan'd; While I and Toscar, from our first campaign, With conquest crown'd, triumphant cross'd the main. But Toscar long hath been upon the -wind, While I at Lutha sit, forlorn and blind! Like the last sound, when winds the grove forsake, My hollow voice is tremulous and weak. My end approaches fast: before me swims The mist that shall array my airy limbs, When on the clouds, a renovated form, I o'er the lofty hills shall ride the storm. A feeble race, astonish'd at the mould, And size gigantic of the chiefs of old, When they behold my shadowy form on high, At its approach, shall to their caverns fly; But I, regardless of their abject fears, Shall move along, and wrap in night the spheres.

Now with a sudden gust the forests shake,
I hear the chaffing billows of the lake. •»*

Let, son of Alpin, in the wonted shade,
Beneath the copse, these aged limbs be laid;


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