her secret sigh. She came in all her beauty, like the moon from the cloud of the east. Loveliness was around her as light. Her steps was like the music of songs. She saw the youth and loved him. He was the stolen sigh of her soul. Her blue eyes rolled on him in secret: and she blest the chief of Morven.

"The third day, with all its beams, shone bright on the wood of boars. Forth moved the dark-browed Starno, and Fingal king of shields. Half the day they spent in the chase; and the spear of Fingal was red in the blood of Gormal.

"It was then the daughter of Starno, with blue eyes rolling in tears, came with her voice of love, and spoke to the king of Morven.

"Fingal, high-descended chief, trust not Starno's heart of pride. Within that wood he has placed his chiefs; beware of the wood of death. But remember son of the hill, remember Agandecca; save me from the wrath of my father, king of the windy Morven ! "The youth, with unconcern, went on; his heroes by his side. The sons of death fell by his hand;

Gormal echoed around.

and

"Before the halls of Starno the sons of the chase convened. The king's dark brows were like clouds. His eyes like meteors of night." Bring hither," he cries, Agandecca to her lovely king of Morven. His hand is stained with the blood of my people; and her words have not been in vain."

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"She came with the red eye of tears. She came with her loose raven locks. Her white breast heaved with sighs, like the foam of the streamy Lubar. Starno pierced her side with steel. She fell like a wreath of snow that slides from the rocks of Ronan, when the woods are still, and the echo deepens in the vale.

"Then Fingal eyed his valiant chiefs; his valiant chiefs took arms. The gloom of the battle roared, and Lochlin fled or died. Pale, in his bounding ship he closed the maid of the raven hair. Her tomb ascends

Gormal is the name of a hill in Lochlin, in the neighbourhood of Staraq's palace.

on Ardven, and the sea roars round the dark dwelling of Agandecca."

"Blessed be her soul," said Cuthullin," and blessed be the mouth of the song. Strong was the youth of Fingal, and strong is his arm of age. Lochlin shall fall again before the king of echoing Morven. Show thy face from a cloud, O moon; light his white sails on the wave of the night. And if any strong spirit of heaven sit on that low-hung cloud, turn his dark ships from the rock, thou rider of the storm!"

Such were the words of Cuthullin at the sqund of the mountain-stream, when Calmar ascended the hill, the wounded son of Matha. From the field he came in his blood. He leaned on his bending spear. Feeble is the arm of battle! but strong the soul of the hero!

"Welcome! O son of Matha," said Connal, welcome art thou to thy friends! Why bursts that broken sigh from the breast of him that never feared before?" "And never Connal, will he fear, chief of the pointed steel. My soul brightens in danger, and exults in the noise of battle. I am of the race of steel; my fathers never feared.

"Cormar was the first of my race. He sported through the storms of the waves. His black skiff bounded on ocean; and travelled on the wings of the blast. A spirit once embroiled the night. Seas swell and rocks resound. Winds drive along the clouds, The lightning flies on wings of fire. He feared, and came to land; then blushed that he feared at all. He rushed again among the waves to find the son of the wind. Three youths guide the bounding bark; he stood with the sword unsheathed. When the low hung vapour passed, he took it by the curling head, and searched its dark womb with his steel. The son of the wind forsook the air. The moon and stars returned. "Such was the boldness of my race; and Calmar is like his fathers. Danger flies from the uplifted sword. They best succeed who dare."

This is the only passage in the poem that has the appearance of religion. But Cuthullin's apostrophe to this spirit is accompanied with a doubt, so that it is not easy to determine whether the hero meant a superior being, or the ghosts of deceased wh riors, who were supposed in those times to rule the storms, and to transport themsel

"But now, ye sons of green-valley'd Erin, retire from Lena's bloody heath. Collect the sad remnant of our friends, and join the sword of Fingal. I heard the sound of Lochlin's advancing arms; but Calmar will remain and fight. My voice shall be such, my friends, as if thousands were behind me. But, son of Semo, remember me. Remember Calmar's lifeless corse. After Fingal has wasted the field, place me by some stone of remembrance, that future times may hear my fame; and the mother' of Calmar rejoice over the stone of my renown."

"No: son of Matha," said Cuthullin, "I will never leave thee. My joy is in the unequal field: my soul increases in danger. Connal, and Carril of other times, carry off the sad sons of Erin; and when the battle is over, search for our pale corses in this narrow way. For near this oak we shall stand in the stream of the battle of thousands. O Fithil's son, with feet of wind, fly over the heath of Lena. Tell to Fingal that Erin is inthralled, and bid the king of Morven hasten. O let him come like the sun in a storm, when he shines on the hills of grass."

Morning is grey on Cromla; the sons of the sea ascend. Calmar stood forth to meet them in the pride of his kindling soul. But pale was the face of the warrior; he leaned on his father's spear; that spear which he brought from Lara's hall, when the soul of his mother was sad. But slowly now the hero falls, like a tree on the plains of Cona. Dark Cuthullin stands alone like a rock in a sandy vale. The sea comes with its waves, and roars on its hardened sides. Its head is covered with foam, and the hills are echoing around. Now from the grey mist of the ocean, the white-sailed ships of Fingal appear. High is the groves of their masts, as they nod, by turns, on the rolling wave.

Alcletha, her lamentation over her son is introduced in the poem concerning the death of Cuthullin printed in this collection.

So some tall rock o'erhangs the hoary main,
By winds assail'd, by billows beat in vain,
Unmov'd it hears, above, the tempests blow,
And sees the wat'ry mountains break below.

POPE

Swaran saw them from the hill, and returned from the sons of Erin. As ebbs the resounding sea through the hundred isles of Inistore; so loud, so vast, so immense returned the sons of Lochlin against the king of the desart hill. But bending, weeping, sad, and slow, and dragging his long spear behind, Cuthullin sunk in Cromla's wood, and mourned his fallen friends. He feared the face of Fingal, who was wont to greet him from the fields of renown.

"How many lie there of my heroes! the chiefs of Inisfail they that were cheerful in the hall, when the sound of the shells arose: no more shall I find their steps in the heath, or hear their voice in the chase of the hinds. Pale, silent, low on bloody beds are they who were my friends! O spirits of the lately dead, meet Cuthullin on his heath. Converse with him on the wind, when the rustling tree of Tura's cave resounds. There, far remote, I shall lie unknown. No bard shall hear of me. No grey stone shall rise to my renown. Mourn with me the dead, O Bragela! departed is my fame."

Such were the words of Cuthullin, when he sunk in the woods of Cromla.

Fingal, tall in his ship, stretched his bright lance before him. Terrible was the gleam of his steel: it was like the green meteor of death, setting in the heath of Malmor, when the traveller is alone, and the broad moon is darkened in heaven.

"The battle is over," said the king, "and I behold the blood of my friends. Sad is the heath of Lena and the mournful oaks of Cromla! The hunters have fallen there in their strength! and the son of Semo is no more. Ryno and Fillan, my sons, sound the horn of Fingal's war. Ascend that hill on the shore, and call the children of the foe. Call them from the grave of Lamdarg, the chief of other times. Be your voice like that of your father, when he enters the battles of his strength. I wait for the dark mighty man: I wait on Lena's shore for Swaran. And let him come

with all his race; for strong in battle are the friends of the dead."

Fair Ryno flew like lightning; dark Fillan as the shade of autumn. On Lena's heath their voice is heard the sons of ocean heard the horn of Fingal's war as the roaring eddy of ocean returning from the kingdom of snows; so strong, so dark, so sudden came down the sons of Lochlin. The king in their front appears in the dismal pride of his arms. Wrath burns in his dark-brown face: and his eyes roll in the fire of his valour.

Fingal beheld the son of Starno; and he remembered Agandecca. For Swaran with the tears of youth had mourned his white-bosomed sister. He sent Ullin of the songs to bid him to the feast of shells. For pleasant on Fingal's soul returned the remembrance of the first of his loves.

Ullin came with aged steps, and spoke to Starno's son. "O thou that dwellest afar, surrounded like a rock with thy waves, come to the feast of the king, and pass the day in rest. To-morrow let us fight, O Swaran, and break the echoing shields."

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To-day," said Starno's wrathful son, we break the echoing shields: to-morrow my feasts will be spread; and Fingal lie on earth.”

"And to-morrow let his feast be spread," said Fingal with a smile; "for, to-day, O my sons, we shall break the echoing shields. Ossian, stand thou near my arm. Gaul, lift thy terrible sword. Fergus, bend thy crooked yew. Throw, Fillan, thy lance through hea ven.-Lift your Ishields like the darkened moon. Be your spears the meteors of death. Follow me in the path of my fame; and equal my deeds in battle."

As a hundred winds on Morven; as the streams of a hundred hills; as clouds fly successive over heaven; or, as the dark ocean assaults the shore of the desart: so roaring, so vast, so terrible the armies mixed on Lena's echoing heath. The groan of the people spread over the hills; it was like the thunder of night, when the