hills, towards each other approached the heroes.-As two dark streams from high rocks meet, and mix and roar on the plain; loud, rough, and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Inisfail. Chief mixes his strokes with chief, and man with man; steel, clanging, sounded on steel; helmets are cleft on high. Blood bursts and smokes around. Strings twang on the polished yews. Darts rush along the sky. Spears fall like the circles of light that gild the stormy face of night.

As the troubled noise of the ocean when roll the waves on high: as the last peal of the thunder of heaven, such is the noise of battle. Though Cormac's hundred bards were there to give the war to song; feeble were the voices of an hundred bards to send the deaths to future times. For many were the falls of the heroes; and wide poured the blood of the valiant.

Mourn, ye sons of song, the death of the noble Sithallins. Let the sighs of Fiona rise on the dark heaths of her lovely Ardan. They fell, like two hinds of the desert, by the hands of the mighty Swaran; when, in the midst of thousands he roared; like the shrill spirit of a storm, that sits dim on the clouds of Gormal, and enjoys the death of the mariner.

Nor slept thy hand by thy side, chief of the Isle of Mist; many were the deaths of thine arm, Cuthullin, thou son of Semo. His sword was like the beam of heaven when it pierces the sons of the vale; when the people are blasted and fall, and all the hills are burning around. Dusronnal; snorted over the bodies of heroes; and Sifadda bathed his hoof in blood. The battle lay behind them as groves over turned in the desert of Cromla, when the blast has passed the heath laden with the spirits of night.

Weep on the rocks of roaring winds, O maid of Inistore'; bend thy fair head over the waves, thou fairer

g Sithallin signifies a handsome man: Fiona, a fair maid ;' and Ardan, pride." The Isle of Sky; not improperly called the Isle of Mist, as its high hills, which catch the clouds from the western ocean, occasion almost continual rains. i One of Cuthullin's horses. Dubhstron-gheal

k Sith-fadda, i. e. a long stride.

The maid of Inistore was the daughter of Gorlo king of Inistore, or Orkney islands. Trenar was brother to the king of Iniscon, supposed to be one of the islands of Shet and. The Orkneys and Shetland were at that time subject to the king of Lochlin. We

than the spirit of the hills, when it moves in a sunbeam at noon over the silence of Morven. He is fallen! thy youth is low; pale beneath the sword of Cuthullin. No more shall valour raise the youth to match the blood of kings. Trenar, lovely Trenar died, thou maid of Inistore. His grey dogs are howling at home, and see his passing ghost. His bow is in the hall unstrung. No sound is in the heath of his hinds.

As roll a thousand waves on a rock, so Swaran's host came on; as meets a rock a thousand waves, so Inisfail met Swaran. Death raises all his voices around, and mixes with the sound of their shields. Each hero is a pillar of darkness, and the sword a beam of fire in his hand. The field echoes from wing to wing, as a hundred hammers that rise by turns on the red son of the furnace.

Who are these on Lethan's heath that are so gloomy and dark? Who are these like two clouds", and their swords like lightning above them? The little hills are troubled around, and the rocks tremble with all their moss. Who is it but Ocean's son and the car-borne chief of Erin? Many are the anxious eyes of their friends, as they see them dim on the heath. Now night conceals the chiefs in her clouds, and ends the terrible fight.

It was on Cromla's shaggy side that Dorglas placed the deer"; the early fortune of the chase, before the heroes left the hill. A hundred youths collect the heath; ten heroes blow the fire; three hundred chuse the polished stones. The feast is smoking wide.

find that the dogs of Trenar are sensible at home of the death of their master, the very instant he is killed. It was the opinion of the times, that the souls of héroes went immediately after death to the hills of their country, and the scenes they fre quented in the most happy time of their life. It was thought too that dogs and horses saw the ghosts of the deceased.

n The ancient manner of preparing feasts after hunting, is handed down by tradition. A pit lined with smooth stones was made; and near it stood a heap of smooth flat stones of the flint kind. The stones, as well as the pit, were properly heated with heath. Then they laid some venison in the bottom, and a stratum of the stones above it; and thus they did alternately till the pit was full. The whole was covered over with heath to confine the steam. Whether this is probable I cannot say; but so. pits are shown, which the vulgar say were used in that manner.

Cuthullin, chief of Erin's war, resumed his mighty soul. He stood upon his beamy spear, and spoke to the son of songs; to Carril of other times, the greyhaired son of Kisfena". "Is this feast spread for me alone; and the king of Lochlin on Ullin's shore, far from the deer of his hills, and sounding halls of his feasts! Rise, Carril of other times, and carry my words to Swaran; tell him that came from the roaring of wa ters, that Cuthullin gives his feast. Here let him listen to the sound of my groves amidst the clouds of night. For cold and bleak the blustering winds rush over the foam of his seas. Here let him praise the trembling harp, and hear the songs of heroes."

Old Carril went, with softest voice, and called the king of dark brown shields. "Rise from the skins of thy chase, rise Swaran, king of groves. Cuthullin gives the joy of shells; partake the feast of Erin's blue-eyed chief." He answered like the sullen sound of Cromla before a storm. "Though all thy daughters, Inisfail, should extend their arms of snow, raise high the heavings of their breasts, and softly roll their eyes of love; yet, fixed as Lochlin's thousand rocks, here Swaran shall remain; till morn, with the young beams of the east, shall light me to the death of Cuthullin. Pleasant to my ear is Lochlin's wind. It rushes over my seas. It speaks aloft in all my shrouds, and brings my green forests to my mind; the green forests of Gormal that often echoed to my winds, when my spear was red in the chase of the boar. Let dark Cuthullin yield to me the ancient throne of Cormac: or Erin's torrents shall show from their hills the red foam of the blood of his pride."

"Sad is the sound of Swaran's voice," said Carril of other times: "Sad to himself alone," said the blue

eyed son of Semo. "But, Carril, raise thy voice on high, and tell the deeds of other times. Send thou the night away in song; and give the joy of grief. For many heroes and maids of love have moved on Inisfail. And lovely are the songs of woe that are heard on Albion's rocks; when the noise of the chase is over,

and the streams of Cona answer to the voice of Ossian"."

"In other days"," Carril replies, "came the sons of ocean to Erin. A thousand vessels bounded over the waves to Ullin's lovely plains. The sons of Inisfail arose to meet the race of dark-brown shields. Cairbar, first of men, was there, and Grudar stately youth. Long had they strove for the spotted bull, that lowed on Gulbon's echoing heath. Each claimed him as his. own; and death was often at the point of their steel. Side by side the heroes fought, and the strangers of ocean fled. Whose name was fairer on the hill, than the name of Cairbar and Grudar? But ah! why ever lowed the bull on Golbun's echoing heath? They saw him leaping like the snow. The wrath of the chiefs returned.”

"On Lubar's' grassy banks they fought, and Grudar like a sun-beam fell. Fierce Cairbar came to the vale of the echoing Tura, where Brassolis', fairest of his sisters, all alone, raised the song of grief. She sung of the actions of Grudar, the youth of her secret soul. She mourned him in the field of blood: but still she hoped for his return. Her white bosom is seen from her robe, as the moon from the clouds of night. Her voice was softer than the harp to raise the song of grief. Her soul was fixed on Grudar; the secret look of her eye was his. When shalt thou come in thine arms, thou mighty in war?"

"Take, Brassolis," Cairbar came and said, "take, Brassolis, this shield of blood. Fix it on high, within my hall, the armour of my foe.' Her soft heart beat against her side. Distracted, pale, she flew. She found her youth in all his blood! She died on Cromla's heath.

Ossian the son of Fingal and author of the Poem. One cannot but admire the address of the poet in putting his own praise so naturally in the mouth of Cuthullin. The Cona here mentioned is perhaps that small river that runs through Glenco in Argyleshire. One of the hills which environ that romantic valley is still called Scornafena, or the hill of Fingal's people.

? This episode is introduced with propriety. Calmar and Connal, two of the Irish heroes, had disputed warmly before the battle about engaging the enemy. Carril endea vours to reconcile them with the story of Cairbar and Grudar; who though enemies before, fought side by side in the war. The poet obtained his aim, for we find Calmar and Connal perfectly reconciled in the third book.

Gol-bhean, as well as Cromleach, signifies a crooked hill. It is here the name of a mountain in the county of Sligo.

Lubar, a river in Ulster. Labhar, loud, noisy.'

t Brassolis signifies a woman with a white breast,

Here rests their dust, Cuthullin; and these two lonely yews, sprung from their tombs, wish to meet on high. Fair was Brassolis on the plain, and Grudar on the hill. The bard shall preserve their names, and repeat them to future times."

Pleasant is thy voice, O Carril," said the blueeyed chief of Erin. "Lovely are the words of other times. They are like the calm shower" of spring, when the sun looks on the field, and the light cloud flies over the hills. O strike the harp in praise of my love, the lonely sun-beam of Dunscaich. Strike the harp in the praise of Bragela", of her that I left in the Isle of Mist, the spouse of Semo's son. Dost thou raise thy fair face from the rock to find the sails of Cuthullin? The sea is rolling far distant, and its white foam shall deceive thee for my sails. Retire, for it is night, my love, and the dark winds sigh in thy hair. Retire to the hall of my feasts, and think of the times that are past: for I will not 1eturn till the storm of war is ceased. O Connal, speak of wars and arms, and send her from my mind: for lovely with her raven-hair is the white-bosomed daughter of Sorglan."

Connal, slow to speak, replied, "Guard against the race of Ocean. Send thy troop of night abroad, and watch the strength of Swaran. Cuthullin! I am for

peace till the race of the desart come; till Fingal come, the first of men, and beam, like the sun, on our fields."

The hero struck the shield of his alarms; the warriors of the night moved on. The rest lay in the heath of the deer, and slept amidst the dusky wind. The ghosts of the lately dead were near, and swam on gloomy clouds. And far distant in the dark silence of Lena, the feeble voices were heard.

u But when he speaks, what elocution flows!
Like the soft fleeces of descending snows.

POPE.

Bragela was the daughter of Sorglan, and the wife of Cuthullin. Cuthullin, upon the death of Artho, supreme king of Ireland, passed over into Ireland, probably by Fingal's order, to take upon hire the administration of affairs in that kingdom, during the minority of Cormac the son of Artho. He left his wife Brageia in Dunscaich, the seat of the family, in the Isle of Sky.

It was long the opinion of the ancient Scots, that a ghost was heard shrieking near the place where a death was to happen soon after. The accounts given to this day among the vulgar of this extraordinary matter, are very poetical. The ghost comes mounted on a meteor, and surrounds twice or thrice the place destined for the perso 16 die; and then goes along the road througs which the funeral is to pass, shrieking intervals; at last the meteor and ghost disappear above the burial-ground.