The Arqument.

The ghost of Crugal, one of the Irish heroes who was killed in battle, appearing to Connal, foretells the defeat of Cuthullin in the next battle; and earnestly advises hirm to make peace with Swaran. Connal communicates the vision; but Cuthullin is inflexible; from a principle of honour he would not be the first to sue for peace, and he resolved to continue the war. Morning comes: Swaran proposes dishonourable terms to Cuthullin, which are rejected. The battle begins, and is obstinately fought for some time, until, upon the flight of Grumla, the whole Irish army give way. Cuthullin and Connal cover their retreat: Carril leads them to a neighbouring hill, whither they are soon followed by Cuthullin himself, who descries the fleet of Fin gal making towards the coast. but night coming on, he lost sight of it again. Cuth ullin, dejected after his defeat, attributes his ill success to the death of Ferda his friend, whom he had killed some time before. Carril, to show that ill success did not always attend those who innocently killed their friends, introduces the episode of Comal and Galvina.

BOOK II.

CONNAL lay by the sound of the mountain-stream, beneath the aged tree. A stone, with its moss, supported his head. Shrill through the heath of Lena he heard the voice of night. At distance from the heroes he lay; for the son of the sword feared no foe.

My hero saw in his rest a dark-red stream of fire coming down from the hill. Crugal sat upon the beam,

The scene of Connal's repose is familiar to those who have been inthe Highlands of Scotland. The poet removes him to a distance from the army, to add more horror to the description of Crugal's ghost, by the loneliness of the place. it perhaps will not be disagreeable to the reader, to see how two other ancient poets handled a similar subject.

When lo! the shade, before his closing eyes,

POPE.

Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem'd to rise,
In the same robe he living wore, he came,
In stature, voice, and pleasing look the same.
The form famillar hover'd o'er his head,
And sleeps Achilles thus the phantum said.
When Hector's ghost before my sight appears:
A bloody shroud he seem'd, and beth'd in tears.
Such as he was, waen, by Pelides slain,
Thessalian coursers dragg'd him o'er the plain.
Swol'n were his feet, as when the thongs were thrust
Through the bor'd holes, his body black with dust
Unlike that Hector, who return'd from toils

Of war triumphant, in acian spoils :
Or him, who made the fainting Greeks retire,
And launch'd against their nayy Phrygian fire.
His hair and beard stood stiffen'd with his gore;
And all the wounds he for his country bore.

DRYDEN.

a chief that lately fell. He fell by the hand of Swaran, striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting moon: his robes are of the clouds of the hill: his eyes are like two decaying flames. Dark is the wound of his breast.

son of Ded

"Crugal," said the mighty Connal, gal, famed on the hill of the deer. Why so pale and sad, thou breaker of the shields? Thou hast never been pale for fear. What disturbs the son of the hill?",

Dim, and in tears, he stood and stretched his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he raised his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego.

"My ghost, O Connal, is on my native hills; but my corse is on the sands of Ullin. Thou shalt never talk with Crugal, or find, his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla, and I move like the shadow of mist. Connal", son of Colgar, I see the dark cloud of death: it hovers over the plains of Lena. The sons of green Erin shall fall. Remove from the field of ghosts." Like the darkened moon he retired, in the midst of the whistling blast.

"Stay," said the mighty Connal, " stay my darkred friend. Lay by that beam of heaven, son of the windy Cromla. What cave of the hill is thy lonely house? What green-headed hill is the place of thy rest? Shall we not hear thee in the storm? in the noise of the mountain-stream? When the feeble sons of the wind come forth, and ride on the blast of the desart?"

The soft-voiced Connal rose in the midst of his sounding arms. He struck his shield above Cuthullin. The son of battle waked.

"Why," said the ruler of the car, "comes Connal, through the night? My spear might turn against the sound; and Cuthullin mourn the death of his friend. Speak, Connal, son of Colgar, speak, thy counsel is like the sun of heaven."

y Counal the son of Caithbat, the friend of Cuthullin, is sometimes, as here, the son of Colgar; from one of that name who was the founder of his family.

Like a thin smoke he sees the spirit fly;
And hears a feeble lamentable cry.

called

"Son of Semo," replied the chief, "the ghost of Crugal came from the cave of his hill. The stars dimtwinkled through his form; and his voice was like the sound of a distant stream. He is a messenger of death. He speaks of the dark and narrow house. Sue for peace, O chief of Dunscaich; or fly over the heath of Lena."

a

"He spoke to Connal," replied the hero, though stars dim-twinkled through his form. Son of Colgar, it was the wind that murmured in the caves of Lena. Or if it was the form of Crugal, why didst thou not force him to my sight? Hast thou enquired where is his cave? The house of the son of the wind? My sword might find that voice, and force his knowledge from him. And small is his knowledge, Connal, for he was here to-day. He could not have gone beyond our hills, and who can tell him there of our death?"

"Ghosts fly on clouds, and 1ide on winds," said Connal's voice of wisdom. "They rest together in their caves, and talk of mortal men.'

"

"Then let them talk of mortal men; of every man but Erin's chief. Let me be forgot in their cave; for I will not fly from Swaran. If I must fall, my tomb shall rise amidst the fame of other times. The hunter shall shed a tear on my stone; and sorrow dwell round the high-bosomed Bragela. I fear not death, but I fear to fly; for Fingal saw me often victorious. Thou dim phantom of the hill, show thyself to me! come on thy beam of heaven, and show me my death in thine hand; yet will I not fly, thou feeble son of the wind. Go, son of Colgar, strike the shield of Caithbat; it hangs between the spears. Let my heroes rise to the sound in the midst of the battles of Erin. Though Fingal delays his coming with the race of the stormy hills, we shall fight, O Colgar's son, and die in the battle of heroes."

The poet teaches us the opinion that prevailed in his time concerning the state of separate souls. From Connal's expression," That the stars dim-twinkled through the form of Crugal," and Cuthullin's reply, we may gather that they both thought the soul was material