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The contrast which Ossian frequently makes between his present and his former state, diffuses over his whole poetry a solemn pathetic air, which cannot fail to make impression on every heart. The conclusion of the songs of Selma is particularly calculated for this purpose. Nothing can be more poetical and tender, or can leave upon the mind a stronger and more affecting idea of the venerable and aged bard. "Such were the words of the bards in the days of the song; when the king heard the music of harps, and the tales of other times. The chiefs gathered from all their hills, and heard the lovely sound. They praised the voice of Cona,* the first among a thousand bards. But age is now on my tongue, and my soul has failed. I hear, sometimes, the ghosts of bards, and learn their pleasant song. But memory fails on my mind; I hear the call of years. They say, as they pass along, Why does Ossian sing? Soon shall he lie in the narrow house, and no bard shall raise his fame. Roll on, ye darkbrown years! for ye bring no joy in your course. Let the tomb open to Ossian, for his strength has failed. The sons of the song are gone to rest. My voice remains, like a blast, that roars lonely on the sea-rurrounded rock, after the winds are laid. The dark moss whistles there, and the distant mariner sees the waving trees.'

Upon the whole, if to feel strongly, and to describe naturally, be the two chief ingredients in poetical genius, Ossian must, after fair examination, be held to possess that genius in a high degree. The question is not, whether a few improprieties may be pointed out in his works ?-whether this or that passage might not have been worked up with more art and skill, by some writer of happier times? A thousand such cold and

* Ossian himself is poetically called the voice of Cona.

frivolous criticisms are altogether indecisive as to his genuine merit. But has he the spirit, the fire the inspiration of a poet? Does he utter the voice of nature? Does he elevate by his sentiments? Does he interest by his description? Does he paint to the heart as well as to the fancy? Does he make his readers glow, and tremble, and weep? These are the great characteristics of true poctry. Where these are found, he must be a minute critic, indeed, who can dwell upon slight defects. A few beauties of this high kind transcend whole volumes of faultless mediocrity. Uncouth and abrupt Ossian may sometimes appear, by reason of his conciseness; but he is sublime, he is pathetic, in an eminent degree. If he has not the extensive knowledge, the regular dignity of narration, the fulness and accuracy of description, which we find in Homer and Virgil, yet in strength of imagination, in grandeur of sentiment, in native majesty of passion, he is fully their equal. If he flows not always like a clear stream, yet he breaks forth often like a torrent of fire. Of art, too, he is far from being destitute; and his imagination is remarkable for delicacy as well as strength. Seldom or never is he either trifling or tedious; and if he be hought too melancholy, yet he is always moral. Though his merit were in other respects much less than it is, this alone ought to entitle him to high regard, that his writings are remarkably favorable to virtue. They awake the tenderest sympathies, and inspire the most generous emotions. No reader can rise from him without being warmed with the sentiments of humanity, virtue, and honor.

Though unacquainted with the original language, there is no one but must judge the translation to deserve the highest praise, on account of its beauty and elegance. Of its faithfulness and accuracy, I have been assured by persons skilled in the Gaelic tongue,

who from their youth were acquainted with many of these poems of Ossian. To transfuse such spirited and fervid ideas from one language into another; to translate literally, and yet with such a glow of poetry; to keep alive so much passion, and support so much dignity throughout; is one of the most difficult works of genius, and proves the translator to have been animated with no small portion of Ossian's spirit.

The measured prose which he has employed, possesses considerable advantages above any sort of versification he could have chosen. While it pleases and fills the ear with a variety of harmonious cadences, being, at the same time, freer from constraint in the choice and arrangement of words, it allows the spirit of the original to be exhibited, with more justness, force, and simplicity. Elegant, however, and masterJy, as Mr. Macpherson's translation is, we must never forget, whilst we read it, that we are putting the merit of the original to a severe test. For we are examining a poet stripped of his native dress; divested of the harmony of his own numbers. We know how much grace and energy the works of the Greek and Latin poets receive from the charm of versification in their original languages. If then, destitute of this advantage, exhibited in a literal version, Ossian still has power to please as a poet; and not to please only, but often to command, to transport, to melt the heart; we may very safely infer that his productions are the offspring of a true and uncommon genius; and we may boldly assign him a place among those whose works are to last for ages.

NOTE. (p. 93.)

Pugnavimus ensibus

Haud post longum tempus
Cum in Gotlandia accessimus
Ad serpentis immensi necem
Tunc impetravimus Thoram
Ex hoc vocarunt me virum
Quod serpentem transfodi
Hirsutam braccam ob illam cædem
Cuspide ictum intuli in colubrum
Ferro lucidorum stupendiorum.

Multum juvenis fui quando acquisivimus
Orientem versus in Oreonico freto

Vulnerum amnes avidæ feræ

Et flavipedi avi

Accepimus ibidem sonuerunt
Ad sublimes galeas

Dura ferra magnam escam

Omnis erat oceanus vulnus

Vadavit corvus in sanguine cæsorum.

Alte tulimus tunc lanceas

Quando viginti annos numeravimus

Et celebrem laudem comparavimus passim Vicimus octo barones

In oriente ante Dimini portum

Aquila impetravimus tunc sufficientem
Hospitii sumptum in illa strage

Sudor decidit in vulnerum

Oceano perdidit exercitus ætatem.

Pugnæ facta copia

Cum Helsingianos postulavimus
Ad aulam Odini

Naves direximus in estium Vistula

Mucro potuit tum mordere
Omnis erat vulnus unda
Terra rubefacta calido
Frendebat gladius in loricas
Gladius findebat clypeos.

Memini neminem tunc fugisse
Priusquam in navibus

Heraudus in bello caderet
Non findit navibus

Alius baro præstantior
Mare ad portum

In navibus longis post illum
Sic attulit princeps passim
Alacre in bellum cor.

Exercitus abjecit clypeos
Cum hasta volavit

Ardua ad virorum pectora

Momordit Scarforum cautes
Cladius in pugna
Sanguineus erat clypeus
Antequam Rafno rex caderet
Fluxit ex virorum capitibus

Calidas in loricas sudor.

Habere potuerunt tum corvi
Ante Indirorum insulas
Sufficientem prædam dilaniandam

Acquisivimus feris carnivoris

Plenum prandium unico actu

Difficile erat unius facere mentionem

Oriente sole

Spicula vidi pungere

Propulerunt arcus ex se ferra.

Altum mugierunt enses

Antequam in Laneo campo

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