Lo! the Moon appeareth. The Flood is bright in the Vale. The Rocks are grey on the Face of the Hill. But I fee him not on the Brow; his Dogs before him tell not that he is coming. Here I muft fit alone,

But who are these that lie beyond me on the Heath? Are they my Love and my Brother?-Speak to me, O my Friends! they answer not. My Soul is tormented with Fears. Ah! they are dead. Their Swords are red from the Fight. O my Brother! my Brother! Why hast thou flain my Shalgar? Why, O Shalgar! haft thou flain my Brother? Dear were ve both to me! what fhall I fay in your Praise ? Thou wert fair on the Hill among Thoufands; he was terrible in Fight. Speak to me; hear my Voice, Sons of my Love! But alas! They are filent, filent for ever! Cold are their Breasts of Clay!

ye

Oh! from the Rock of the Hill! from the Top of the Mountain of Winds, fpeak, ye Ghofts of the Dead! fpeak, and I will not be afraid.- -Whither are ye gone to reft? In what Cave of the Hill shall I find you? No feeble Voice is on the Wind: No Answer half-drowned in the Storms of the Hill.

I fit in my Grief. I wait for Morning in my Tears. Rear the Tomb, ye Friends of the Dead; but close it not till I come. My Life flyeth away like a Dream: Why fhould I stay behind? Here fhall I reft with my Friends by the Stream of the VOL. II. found

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founding Rock. When Night comes on the Hill; when the Wind is upon the Heath; my Ghoft fhall ftand in the Wind, and mourn the Death of my Friends, The Hunter fhall hear from his Booth. He fhall fear, but love my Voice. For sweet shall my Voice be for my Friends; for pleasant were they

both to me.

FRAGMENT XI.

AD! I am fad indeed: Nor fmall my Caufe of Woe!-Kirmor, thou haft loft no Son; thou haft loft no Daughter of Beauty. Connar the valiant lives; and Annir the faireft of Maids. The Boughs of thy Family flourish, O Kirmor! But Armyn is the last of his Race. Dark is thy Bed, O Daura! and deep thy Sleep in the Tomb.-When fhalt thou awake with thy Songs? With all thy Voice of Mufic?

Rife, Winds of Autumn, rife; blow upon the dark Heath! Streams of the Mountains, roar! howl, ye Tempefts, in the Top of the Oak! walk through broken Clouds, O Moon! show by Intervals thy pale Face! bring to my Mind that fad Night, when all my Children fell; when Arindel the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely failed; when all my Children died.

Daura, my Daughter! thou wert fair; fair as the Moon on the Hills of Jura; white as the driven Snow;

Snow; fweet as the breathing Gale. Arindel, thy Bow was strong, thy Spear was fwift in the Field; Thy Look was like Mist on the Wave, thy Shield, a red Cloud in a Storm. Armor renowned in War came, and fought Daura's Love; he was not long denied: Fair was the Hope of their Friends.

Earch, Son of Odgal, repined; for his Brother was flain by Armor. He came disguised like a Son of the Sea: Fair was his Skiff on the Wave; white his Locks of Age; calm his ferious Brow. Fairest of Women, he faid, lovely Daughter of Armyn ! a Rock not diftant in the Sea, bears a Tree on its Side; red fhines the Fruit afar. There Armor waiteth for Daura. I came to fetch his Love Come, fair Daughter of Armyn !

She went; and fhe called on Armor. Nought anfwered, but the Son of the Rock. Armor, my Love my Love! why tormentest thou me with Fear? Hear, Son of Ardnart, hear: It is Daura who calleth thee!-Earch the Traitor fled laughing to the Land. She lifted up her Voice, and cried for her Brother and her Father. Arindel! Armyn ! none to relieve your Daura !

Her voice came over the Sea. Arindel my Son defcended from the Hill; rough in the Spoils of the Chace. His Arrows rattled by his Side; his Bow was in his Hand; five dark grey Dogs attended his Steps. He faw fierce Earch on the Shore; he feized and bound him to an Oak., Thick fly the Thongs

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Thongs of the Hide around his Limbs; he loads the Wind with his Groans.

Arindel afcends the furgy Deep in his Boat, to bring Daura to the Land. Armor came in his Wrath, and let fly the grey-feathered Shaft. It funk; it funk in thy Heart, O Arindel my Son! for Earch the Traitor thou diedft. The Oar is ftopped at once; he panted on the Rock and expired. What is thy Grief, O Daura, when round thy Feet is poured thy Brother's Blood!

The Boat is broken in twain by the Waves Armor plunges into the Sea to refcue his Daura or die. Sudden a Blast from the Hill comes over the Waves. He funk, and he rofe no more.

Alone, on the fea-beat Rock, my Daughter was heard to complain. Frequent and loud were her 'Cries; nor could her Father relieve her. All Night I ftood on the Shore. I faw her by the faint Beam of the Moon. All Night I heard her Cries. Loud was the Wind; and the Rain beat hard on the Side of the Mountain. Before Morning appeared, her Voice was weak. It died away, like the EveningBreeze among the Grafs of the Rocks. Spent with Grief the expired. And left thee, Armyn, alone; Gone is my Strength in the War, and fallen my Pride among Women.

When the Storms of the Mountain come; when the North lifts the Waves on high; I fit by the found

ing

ing Shore, and look on the fatal Rock. Often by the setting Moon I fee the Ghofts of my Children. Half-viewlefs, they walk in mournful Conference together. Will none of you speak in Pity; They do not regard their Father.

FRAGMENT XII,

RYNO, ALPIN.

RY NO.

HE Wind and the

TH

Rain are over: Calm is the Noon of Day. The Clouds are divided in Heaven. Over the green Hills flies the inconftant Sun. Red through the ftony Vale comes down the Stream; but more sweet is the Voice I hear. It is the Voice of Alpin the Son of the Song, mourning for the Dead. Bent is his Head of Age, and red his tearful Eye, Alpin, thou Son of the Song, why alone on the filent Hill? Why complaineft thou, asa Blast in the Wood; as a Wave on the lonely Shore?

ALPIN,

My Tears, O Ryno! are for the Dead; my Voice for the Inhabitants of the Grave. Tall thou art on the Hill; fair among the Sons of the Plain. But thou fhalt fall like Morar; and the Mourner fhall fit on thy Tomb. The Hills fhall know thee no more; thy Bow shall lie in the Hall unftrung.