COLNA-DONA.

ARGUMENT.

Fingal despatches Ossian and Toscar, the son of Conloch, and father of Malvina, to raise a stone on the banks of the stream of Crona, to perpetuate the memory of a victory which he had obtained in that place. When they were employed in that work, Car-ul, a neighboring chief, invited them to a feast. They went, and Toscar fell desperately in love with Colna-dona, the daughter of Car-ul. Colna-dona became no less enamored of Toscar. An incident at a hunting party brings their loves to a happy issue.

COL-AMON* of troubled streams, dark wanderer of distant vales, I behold thy course, between trees near Car-ul's echoing halls! There dwelt bright Colna-dona, the daughter of the king. Her eyes were rolling stars; her arms were white as the foam of streams. Her breast rose slowly to sight, like ocean's heaving wave. Her soul was a stream of light. Who, among the maids, I was like the love of heroes?

Beneath the voice of the king we moved to Cronat of the streams, Toscar of grassy Lutha, and Ossian young in fields. Three bards attended with songs. Three bossy shields were borne before us; for we were to rear the stone in memory of the past. By Crona's mossy course Fingal had scattered his foes; he had rolled away the strangers like a troubled sea. came to the place of renown; from the mountains descended night. I tore an oak from its hill, and raised a flame on high. I bade my fathers to look down from

We

Colna-dona signifies "the love of heroes." Col-amon, "narrow river." Car-ul, "dark-eyed."

+ Crona, "murmuring," was the name of a small stream which discharged itself in the river Carron.

the clouds of their hall; for, at the fame of their race they brighten in the wind.

I took a stone from the stream, amidst the song of bards. The blood of Fingal's foes hung curdled in its Beneath I placed, at intervals, three bosses from the shield of foes, as rose or fell the sound of

ooze.

Ullin's nightly song. Toscar laid a dagger in earth, a mail of sounding steel. We raised the mould around the stone, and bade it speak to other years.

Oozy daughter of streams, that now art reared on high, speak to the feeble, O stone! after Selma's race have failed! Prone from the stormy night, the traveller shall lay him by thy side: thy whistling moss shall sound in his dreams; the years that were past shall return. Battles rise before him, blue-shielded kings descend to war: the darkened moon looks from heaven on the troubled field. He shall burst with morning from dreams, and see the tombs of warriors round. He shall ask about the stone, and the aged shall reply, "This gray stone was raised by Ossian, a chief of other years!"

From Col-amon came a bard, from Car-ul, the friend of strangers. He bade us to the feast of kings, to the dwelling of bright Colna-dona. We went to the hall of harps. There Car-ul brightened between his aged locks, when he beheld the sons of his friends, like two young branches before him.

"Sons of the mighty," he said, "ye bring back the days of old, when first I descended from waves, on Selma's streamy vale! I pursued Duthmocarglos, dweller of ocean's wind. Our fathers had been foes;

we met by Clutha's winding waters. He fled along the sea, and my sails were spread behind him. Night deceived me on the deep. I came to the dwelling of kings, to Selma of high-bosomed maids. Fingal came forth with his bards, and Conloch, arm of heath. I

feasted three days in the hall, and saw the blue eyes of Erin, Roserana, daughter of heroes, light of Cormac's race. Nor forgot did my steps depart: the kings gave their shields to Car-ul: they hang on high in Colamon, in memory of the past. Sons of the daring kings, ye bring back the days of old!

Car-ul kindled the oak of feasts, he took two bosses from our shields. He laid them in earth beneath a

stone, to speak to the hero's race. "When battle," said the king shell roar, and our sons are to meet in wrath, my race shall look perhaps on this stone, when they prepare the spear. Have not our fathers met in peace? they will say, and lay aside the shield." Night came down. daughter of Car-ul.

In her long locks moved the Mixed with the harp arose the voice of white-armed Colna-dona. Toscar darkened in his place before the love of heroes. She came on his troubled soul, like a beam to the dark-heaving ocean, when it bursts from a cloud, and brightens the foamy side of a wave.*

With morning we awaked the woods, and hung forward on the path of the roes. They fell by their wonted streams. We returned through Crona's vale. From the wood a youth came forward, with a shield and pointless spear." Whence," said Toscar of Lutha, is the flying beam? Dwells there peace at Col-amon, round bright Colna-dona of harps ?""

"By Col-amon of streams," said the youth, "bright Colna-dona dwelt. She dwelt; but her course is now in deserts with the son of the king; he that seized with love her soul as it wandered through the hall.”

Here an episode is entirely lost; or, at least, is handed down so imperfectly, that it does not deserve a place in the poem.

"Stranger of tales," said Toscar, "hast thou marked the warrior's course? He must fall; give thou that bossy shield." In wrath he took the shield. Fair behind it rose the breasts of a maid, white as the bosom of a swan, rising graceful on swift-rolling waves. It was Colna-dona of harps, the daughter of the king! Her blue eyes had rolled on Toscar, and her love arose!

OITHONA.

ARGUMENT.

Gaul, the son of Morni, attended Lathmon into his own country, after his being defeated in Morven, as related in a preceding poem. He was kindly entertained by Nuäth, the father of Lathmon, and fell in love with his daughter Oithona. The lady was no less enamored of Gaul, and a day was fixed for their marriage. In the mean time Fingal, preparing for an expedition into the country of the Britons, sent for Gaul. He obeyed, and went; but not without promising to Oithona to return, if he survived the war, by a certain day. Lathmon too was obliged to attend his father Nuäth in his wars, and Oithona was left alone at Dunlathmon, the seat of the family. Dunrommath, Lord of Uthal, supposed to be one of the Orkneys, taking advantage of the absence of her friends, came and carried off, by force, Oithona, who had formerly rejected his love, into Tromáthon, a desert island, where he concealed her in a cave.

Gaul returned on the day appointed; heard of the rape, and sailed to Tromáthon, to revenge himself on Dunrommath. When he landed, he found Oithona disconsolate, and resolved not to survive the loss of her honor. She told him the story of her misfortunes, and she scarce ended when Dunrommath with his followers appeared at the farther end of the island. Gaul prepared to attack him, recommending to Oithona to retire till the battle was over. She seemingly obeyed; but she secretly armed herself, rushed into the thickest of the battle, and was mortally wounded. Gaul, pursuing the flying enemy, found her just expiring on the field; he mourned over her, raised her tomb, and returned to Morven. Thus is the story handed down by tradition; nor is it given with any material difference in the poem, which opens with Gauls return to Dunlathmon, after the rape of Oithona.

DARKNESS dwells around Dunlathmon, though the The daughter noon shows half her face on the hill. of night turns her eyes away; she beholds the approaching grief. The son of Morni is on the plain: there is no sound in the hall. No long streaming beam of light comes trembling through the gloom. The voice of Oithona is not heard amidst the noise of the streams of Duvranna. "Whither art thou gone in thy