is the soul of battle fled? Our fathers never feared. Go: view the settling sea: the stormy wind is laid. The billows still tremble on the deep, and seem to fear the blast. But view the settling sea: morning is grey on our rocks. The sun will look soon from his east, in all his pride of light. I lifted up my sails, with joy, before the halls of generous Conlath. My course was by the isle of waves, where his love pursued the deer. I saw her, like that beam of the sun that issues from a cloud. Her hair was on her heaving breast; she, bending forward, drew the bow: her white arm seemed,'behind her, like the snow of Cromla. Come to my soul, I said, thou huntress of the isle of waves! But she spends her time in tears, and thinks of the generous Conlath. Where can I find thy peace, Cuthona, lovely maid?

CUTHONA. A distant steep bends over the sea, with aged trees and mossy rocks: the billows roll at its feet; on its sides is the dwelling of roes. The people call it Ardven. There the towers of Mora rise. There Conlath looks over the sea for his only love. The daughters of the chace returned, and he beheld their downcast eyes. Where is the daughter of Rumar? But they answered not. My peace dwells on Ardven, son of the distant land.

TOSCAR. And Cuthona shall return to her peace; to the halls of generous Conlath. He is the friend of Toscar I have feasted in his halls. Rise, ye gentle breezes of Ullin, and stretch my sails towards Ardven's shores. Cuthona shall rest on Ardven: but the days of Toscar will be sad. I shall sit in my cave in the field of the sun. The blast will rustle in my trees, and I shall think it is Cuthona's voice. But she is distant far, in the halls of the mighty Conlath.

CUTHONA. Oh! what cloud is that? It carries the ghosts of my fathers. I see the skirts of their robes, like grey and watry mist. When shall I fall, O Rumar? Sad Cuthona sees her death. Will not Conlath behold

me, before I enter the narrow house"?

Cuthona, the mournful sound of the waves;' a poetical name given her by Os on account of her mourning to the sound of the waves; her name, in tradition, is Gu Auil, the blue-eyed maid,”

OSSIAN. And he will behold thee, O maid: he comes along the rolling sea, The death of Toscar is dark on his spear; and a wound is in his side. He is pale at the cave of Thona, and shows his ghastly wound. Where art thou with thy tears, Cuthona? the chief of Mora dies. The vision grows dim on my mind: I behold the chiefs no more. But, O ye bards of future times, remember the fall of Conlath with tears: he fell before his day; and sadness darkened in his hall. His mother looked to his shield on the wall, and it was bloody'. She knew that her hero died, and her sorrow was heard on Mora. Art thou pale on thy rock, Cuthona, beside the fallen chiefs? Night comes, and day returns, but none appears to raise their tomb. Thou frightest the screaming fowls away, and thy tears for ever flow. Thou art pale as a watry cloud, that rises from a lake.

The sons of the desart came, and they found her dead. They raise a tomb over the heroes; and she rests at the side of Conlath. Come not to my dreams, O Conlath; for thou hast received thy fame. Be thy voice far distant from my hall; that sleep may descend at night. O that I could forget my friends; till my footsteps cease to be seen! till I come among them with joy! and lay my aged limbs in the narrow house!

i It was the opinion of the times, the arms left by the heroes at home, became bloody the very instant their owners were killed, though at ever so great a distance.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

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