0**, 37
THE
POEMS
O F
O S S I A N.
TRANSLATED
By JAMES MACPHERSON, Efq.
IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I.
A NEW EDITION.
LONDON:
Printed for A. Strahan and T. Cadell :
And fold by T. Cadell Jun. and W. Da vies,
(Succeflors to Mr. Cadell,) in the Strand.
MPCCXCVI.
[Draw fact)
'■I
PREFACE.
¥T7ithout encreafing his genius, the Au- * thor may have improved his language, in the eleven years, that the following Poems have been in the hands of the Public. Errors in di&ion might have been committed at twenty- four, which the experience of a riper age may remove ; and fome exuberances in imagery may be reftrained with advantage, by a degree of judgment acquired in the progrefs of time. ImprefTed with this opinion, he ran over the whole with attention and accuracy; and, he hopes, he has brought the work to a ftate of correctnefs, which will preclude all future improvements.
The eagernefs with which thefe Poems have been received abroad, is a recom pence for the coldnefs with which a few have affected to treat them at home. All the polite nations of Europe have transferred them into their re- ipedive languages ; and they fpeak of him, who brought them to light, in terms that might flatter the vanity of one fond of fame. In a convenient indifference for a literary reputa-
A 2 tion,
iy
PREFACE.
tion, the author hears praife without being elevated, and ribaldry without being depreffed, He has frequently feen the firft bellowed too precipitately ; and the latter is fo faithlefs to its purpofe, that it is often the only index to merit in the prefent age.
Though the tafte, which defines genius, by the points of the compafs, is a fubject fit for mirth in itfelf, it is often a ferious matter in the fale of the work. When rivers define the li- mits of abilities, as well as the boundaries of countries, a writer may meafure his fuccefs, by the latitude under which he was born. It was to avoid a part of this inconvenience, that the Author is faid, by fome, who fpeak without any authority, to have afcribed his own pro- ductions to another name. If this was the cafe, he was but young in the art of deception. When he placed the Poet in antiquity, the Tranflator mould have been born on this fide of the Tweed.
Thefe obfervations regard only the frivolous in matters of literature ; thefe, however, form a majority in every age and nation. In this country, men of genuine tafte abound ; but their ftill voice is drowned in the clamours of a multitude, who judge by fafhion of poetry,
2 as
PREFACE. v
as of drefs. The truth is, tb judge aright requires almoft as much genius as to write well ; and good critics are as rare as great poets. Though two hundred thoufand Ro- mans ftood up, when Virgil came into the Theatre, Varius only could correct the iEneid. He that obtains fame muft receive it through mere fafhion ; and gratify his vanity with the applaufe of men, of whofe judgment he can- not approve.
The following Poems, it muft be confeffed^ are more calculated to pleafe perfons of ex- quifite feelings of heart, than thofe who re- ceive all their impreffions by the ear. The novelty of cadence, in what is called a profe verfion, though not deftitute of harmony, will not to common readers fupply the abfence of the frequent returns of rhime. This was the opinion of the Writer himfelf, though he yielded to the judgment of others, in a mode, which prefented freedom and dignity of ex- prefTion, inftead of fetters, which cramp the thought, whilft the harmony of language is preferved. His intention was to publifh in verfe. The making of poetry, like any other handicraft, may be learned by induflry ; and he had ferved his apprenticemip, though in fecret, to the mufes,
a 3 It
M
PREFACE.
It is, however, doubtful, whether the har- mony which thefe Poems might derive from rhime, even in much better hands than thofe of the Tranflator, could atone for the fimpli- city and energy, which they would lofe. The determination of this point fhall be left to the readers of this Preface. The following is the beginning of a Poem, tranflated from the Norfe to the Gaelic language ; and, from the latter, transferred into Englifh. The verfe took little more time to the writer than the profe ; and he himfelf is doubtful (if he has fucceeded in either), which of them is the mod literal verfion.
FRAGMENT of a NORTHERN TALE.
Where Harold, with golden hair fpread o'er Lochlin* his high commands; where, with juftice, he ruled the tribes, who funk, fubdued, beneath his fword ; abrupt rifes Gormal f in fnow ! The tempefts roll dark on his fides, but calm, above, his vaft forehead appears. White-iffuing from the fkirt of his ftorms, the troubled torrents pour down his fides. Join- ing, as they roar along, they bear the Torno, in foam, to the main.
* The Gaelic name of Scandinavia, or Scandinia.
f The mountains of Sevo.
Grey
PREFACE.
vu
Grey on the bank, and far from men, half- covered, by ancient pines, from the wind, a lonely pile exalts its head, long-fhaken by the ftorms of the north. To this fled Sigurd, fierce in fight, from Harold the leader of ar- mies, when fate had brightened his fpear, with renown : when he conquered in that rude field, where Lulan's warriors fell in blood, or rofe in terror on the waves of the main. Darkly fat the grey-haired chief; yet forrow dwelt not in his foul. But when the warrior thought on the paft, his proud heart heaved again his fide : forth flew his fword from its place ; he wounded Harold in all the winds.
One daughter, and only one, but bright in form and mild of foul, the laft beam of the fetting line, remained to Sigurd of all his race. His fon, in Lulan's battle flain, beheld not his father's flight from his foes. Nor rmifhed feemed the ancient line ! The fplendid beauty of bright-eyed Fithon, covered ftill the fallen king with renown. Her arm was white like Gormal's fnow ; her boibm whiter than the foam of the main, when roll the waves beneath the wrath of the winds. Like two ftars were her radiant eyes, like two ftars that rife on the deep, 'when dark tumult embroils the night* Pleafant are their beams aloft, as (lately they afcend the fides.
7 Nor
viii PREFACE-
Nor Odin forgot, in aught, the maid. Her form fcarce equalled her lofty mind. Awe moved around her ftately fteps. Heroes loved — but fhrunk away in their fears. Yet rriidfi: the pride of all her charms, her heart was foft and her foul was kind. She faw the mournful with tearful eyes. Tranfient dark- nefs arofe in her breaft. Her joy was in the chafe. Each morning, when doubtful light wandered dimly on Lulan's waves, fhe rouzed {he refounding woods, to Gormai's head of fnow. Nor moved the maid alone, &c.
The fame verfifiecL
Where fair-liair'd Harold, o'er Scandinia reign'd, And held with juftice, what his valour gain'd, Sevo, in fnow, his rugged forehead rears, And, o'er the warfare of his florins, appears Abrupt and vaft. —White-wandering down his fide A thoufand torrents, gleaming as they glide, Unite below ; and pouring through the plain Hurry the troubled Torno to the main.
Grey, on the bank, remote from human kind,
By aged pines, half fheltered from the wind,
A homely manfion rofe, of antique form,
For ages batter'd by the polar norm.
To this fierce Sigurd fled, from Norway's lord,
When fortune fettled, on the warrior's fword,
In that ruck field, where Suecia's chiefs were flain,
Or forced to wander o'er the Bothnic main.
Dark was his life, yet undifturb'd with woes,
But when the memory of defeat arofe
His
PREFACE. it
His proud heart (truck his fide ; he grafpt the fpear, And wounded Harold in the vacant air.
One daughter only, but of form divine, The lad fair beam of the departing line, Remain'd of Sigurd's race. His warlike fon Fell in t;*e mock, which overturn'd the throne. Nor defolate the houfe i Fionia's charms Suftain'd the glory, which they loft in arms. White was her arm, as Sevo's lofty mow, Her bofom fairer than the waves below, When heaving to the winds. Her radiant eye* Like two bright ftars, exulting as they rife, O'er the dark tumult of a ftormy night, And gladd'ning heav'n, with their majeflic light.
In nought is Odin to the maid unkind. Her form fcarce equals her exalted mind ; Awe leads her facred fteps where'er they move, Ancj mankind worfhip, where they dare not love, But, mix'd with foftnefs, was the virgin's pride? Her heart had feeling, which her eyes deny'd. Her bright tears ftarted at another's woes, While tranfient darknefs on her foul arofe.
The chafe (he lov'd •, when morn, with doubtful beam Came dimly wandering o'er the Bothnic ftream, Qn Sevo's founding fides, fhe bent the bow, And rous'd his forefts to his head of fnow. JJor mov'd the maid alone j &c.
One of the chief improvements, on this edition, is the care taken in arranging the Poems, in the order of time ; fo as to form a
kind
x PREFACE.
kind of regular hiftory of the are to which they relate. The writer has now refigned them for ever to their fate. That they have been well received by the Public, appears from an ex- tenfive fale; that they mall continue to be well received, he may venture to prophefy without the gift of that infpiration, to which poets lay claim. Through the medium of verfion upon verfion, they retain, in foreign languages, their native chara&er of fimplicity and energy. Genuine poetry, like gold, lofes little, when properly transfufed ; but when a compofition cannot bear the teft of a literal verfion, it is a counterfeit which ought not to pafs current. The operation muft, however, be performed with ikilful hands. A Tranf- lator, who cannot equal his original, is inca- pable of expreffing its beauties.
London, Aug- *5> I773-
CONTENTS
OF THE
FIRST VOLUME.
|
CATH-LODA, Part Firft, *-, |
Page i |
|
Part Second, |
— 15 |
|
Part Third, — |
— 2$ |
|
COMALA, — — — |
— 32 |
|
CARRIC-THURA, ~ |
— 45 |
|
CARTHON, — — |
- 67 |
|
OINA-MORUL, — — |
— S7 |
|
COLNA-DONA, — |
— 9$ |
|
OITHONA, — — |
— 103 |
|
CROMA, — — |
— 113 |
|
CALTHON and COLMAL, |
— 125 |
|
The WAR of CAROS, — |
— *37 |
|
CATHLIN of CLUTHA, |
— 149 |
|
SUL-MALLA of LUMON, |
— 161 |
|
WAR of INIS-THONA, — |
— J73 |
|
The SONGS of SELMA, — |
- 183 |
|
FINGAL, Book I. — |
— 197 |
|
Book II. _ -_ |
— 221 |
|
Book III. — |
— 237 |
|
FINGAL, |
CONTENTS.
FIN GAL, Book IV. — — Page 255
Book V, — — 271
Book VI. — ■ — — 285
LATHMON, — — — 301
DAR-THULA, — — — 317
DEATH of CUTHULLIN, — — 337
RATTLE of LORA, — — 351
CATH*
CATH-LODA:
P O E M.
DUAN FIRST.
VOL. I, B
Argument,
Fingal, when very young, making a voyage to the Orkney iflands, was driven, by ftrefs of weather, into a bay of Scandinavia, near the refidence of Starno, king of Lochlin. Starno invites Fingal to a feaft. Fingal, doubting the faith of the king, and mindful of a former breach of hofpitality, refufes to go. — Starno gathers to- gether his tribes j Fingal refolves to defend himfelf. — Night coming on, Duth-maruno propofes to Fingal, to obferve the motions of the enemy. — The king him- felf undertakes the watch » Advancing towards the enemy, he, accidentally, comes to the cave of Turthor, where Starno had confined Conban-carglas, the captive daughter of a neighbouring chief. — Her ftory is imper- fect, a part of the original being loft. — Fingal comes to a place of worfhip, where Starno and his fon, Swaran, confulted the fpirit of Loda, concerning the iflue of the war. — The rencounter of Fingal and Swaran. — Duan fir ft concludes with a defcription of the airy hall of Cruth-loda, fuppofed to be the Odin of Scandinavia*
C 3 ]
CATH-LODA:
* DUAN FIRST.
AT ale of the times of old ! Why, thou wanderer unfeen ! Thou bender of the thiftle of Lora ; why, thou breeze of the valley, haft thou left mine ear ? I
hear
* The bards diftinguiflied thofe compofitions, in which the narration is often interrupted by epifodes and apoftro- phes, by the name of Duaiu Since the extinction of the order of the bards, it has been a general name for all an- cient compofitions in verfe. The abrupt manner in which the (lory of this poem begins, may render it obfcure to fome readers ; it may not therefore be improper, to give here the traditional preface, which is generally prefixed to it. Two years after he took to wife Ros-crana, the daughter of Cormac, king of Ireland, Fingal undertook an expedition into Orkney, to vifit his friend Cathulla, king of Iniftore. After Haying a few days at Caric- thura, the refidence of Cathulla, the king fet fail, to return to Scotland ; but, a violent florm arifing, his {hips were driven into a bay of Scandinavia, near Gormal, the feat of Starno, king of Lochlin, his avowed enemy. Starno, upon the appearance of ftrangers on his coaft, fummoned together the neighbouring tribes, and advanced, in a hof- tile manner, towards the bay of U-thorno, where Fingal had taken (belter. Upon difcovering who the ftrangers were, and fearing the valour of Fingal, which he had, more- than once, experienced before, he refolved to ac- compliih by treachery, what he was afraid he mould fail in by open force. He invited, therefore, Fingal to a
b 2 feaft,
4 CATH-LODA:
Lear no dlftant roar of ftreams ! No found Ot the harp, from the rock ! Come, thou huntrefs of Liitha, Malvina, call back his foul to the bard. I look forward to Lochlin of lakes, to the dark, billowy bay of U-thorno, where Fingal defcends from ocean, from the roar of winds. Few are the heroes of Morven, in a land unknown !
Starno fent a dweller of Loda, to bid Fingal to. the feaft ; but the king remembered the pair., and all his rage arofe. " Nor Gormal's mofly towers, nor Starno, mall Fingal behold. Deaths wander, like fhadows, over his fiery foul ! Do I forget that beam of light, the white-handed daughter * of kings ? Go, fon of Loda ; his words are wind to Fingal : wind, that, to and fro, drives the thiftle, in autumn's duiky vale. Duth-maruno f, arm
of
feaft, at which he intended to afiafilnate him. The king prudently declined to go, and Starno betook himfelf to arms. The fequel of the (lory may be learned from the poem itfelf.
* Agandecca, the daughter of Starno, whom her fa- ther killed, on account of her difcovering to Fingal a plot laid againft his life. Her ftory is related at large in the third book of Fingal.
f Duth-maruno is a name very famous in tradition. Many of his great actions are handed down, but the poems, which contained the detail of them, are long fince loft. He lived, it is fupp*ofed, in that part of the north of Scotland, which is over againft Orkney. Duth- maruno, Cromma-glas, Struthmor, and Cormar, are men- tioned, as attending Comhal, in his laft battle againft the tribe of Morni, in a poem, which is ftill preferved. It is not the work of Offian * the phrafeology betrays it to
be
DUAN FIRST. 5
of death ! Oomma-glas, of iron fliields ! Struthmor, dweller of battle's wing ; Cormar, whole mips bound on feas, carelefs as the courfe of a meteor, on dark-rolling clouds ! Arife, around me, children of heroes, in a land unknown ! Let each look on his fhield, like Trenmor, the ruler of wars. " Come down," thus Trenmor laid, u thou dweller be- tween the harps ! Thou (halt roll this ftream away, or wafte with me in earth.'
Around the king they rife in wrath. No words come forth : they feize their ipears. Each foul is rolled into itfelf, At length the fudden clang is waked, on all their echoing fhields. Each takes his hill, by night ; at in- tervals, they darkly ftand. Unequal burns the hum of longs, between the roating wind !
Broad over them rofe the moon !
In his arms, came tall Duth-maruno ; he from Croma of rocks, ftern hunter of the boar ! In his dark boat he rofe on waves, when Crumthormo * awaked its woods. In the chafe he fhone, among foes : No fear was thine, Duth-maruno !
be a modern compofition. It is fomething like thefe trivial compofitions, which the Irifh bards forged, under the name of Oihan, in the fifteenth and fixteenth cen- turies. Duth-maruno fignifies, black and Jleady\ Crom- ma-glas, bending andfivarthj ; Struthmor, roaring Jlream ; Cormar, expert at fea,
* Crumthormothj one of the Orkney or Shetland iflands. The name is not of Galic original. It was fub- ject to its own petty king, who is mentioned in one of Oiilan's poems.
b 3 " Son
6 CATH-LODA:
" Son of daring Comhal, (hall my fteps be forward through night ? From this fhield fhall I view them, over their gleaming tribes ? Star- no, king of lakes, is before me, and Swaran, the foe of {bangers. Their words are not in vain, by Loda's ftone of power.-— Should Duth-maruno not return, his fpoufe is lonely, at home, where meet two roaring dreams, on Crathmo-craulo's plain. Around are hills, with echoing woods, the ocean is rolling near. My fon looks on fcreaming fea-fowl, a young wan- derer on the field. Give the head of a boar to Can-dona *, tell him of his father's joy, when
the
f Cean-daona, head of the people, the fon of Duth- maruno. He became afterwards famous, in the expedi- tions of Oman, after the death of Fingal. The traditional tales concerning him are very numerous, and, from the epithet in them, bellowed on him (Can-dona of boars J, it would appear, that he applied himfelf to that kind of hunting, which his father, in this paragraph, is fo anx- ious to recommend to him. As I have mentioned the traditional tales of the Highlands, it may not be impro- per here to give fome account of them. After the ex- pulfion of the bards, from the houfes of the chiefs, they, being an indolent race of men, owed all their fubfiftence to the generofity of the vulgar, whom they diverted with repeating the compofitions of their predecerTors, and run- ning up the genealogies of their entertainers to the fa- mily of their chiefs. As this fubjeer. was, however, foon exhaufted, they were obliged to have recourfe to inven- tion, and form {lories, having no foundation in fact, which were fwallowcd, with great credulity, by an igno- rant multitude. By frequent repeating, the fable grew upon their hands, and, as each threw in whatever cireum- iiance he thought conducive to raife the admiration of his hearers, the (lory became, at laft, fo devoid of all proba- 8 bility,
DUAN FIRST. 7
the briftly ftrength of I-thorno rolled on his lifted fpear. Tell him of my deeds in war ! Tell where his father fell !"
" Not forgetful of my fathers," faid Fingal, <c I have bounded over the feas. Theirs were the times of danger, in the days of old. Nor fettles darknefs on me, before foes, though youthful in my locks. Chief of Grathmo- craulo, the field of night is mine."
Fingal rufhed, in all his arms, wide-bound- ing over Turthor's ftream, that fent its fullen roar, by night, through Gormal's mifty vale. A moon-beam glittered on a rock ; in the mid ft, flood a (lately form ; a form with float- ing locks, like Lochlin's white-bofomed maids. Unequal are her fleps, and ihort. She throws
bility, that even the vulgar themfelves did not believe it. They, however, liked the tales fo well, that the bards found their advantage in turning profeffed tale-makers. They then launched out into the wildeft regions of fic- tion and romance. I firmly believe, there are more ftories of giants, enchanted caitles, dwarfs, and palfreys, in the Highlands, than in any country in Europe. Thefe tales, it is certain, like other romantic compofitions, have many things in them unnatural, and, confequently, dif- guftful to true tafte ; but, I know not how it happens, they command attention more than any other fictions I ever met with. The extreme length of thefe pieces is very furprifing, fome of them required many days to re- peat them, but fuch hold they take of the memory, that few circumllances are ever omitted by thofe who have received them only from oral tradition : What is {till more amazing, the very language of the bards is ft ill pre- ferved. It is curious to fee. that the descriptions of mag- nificence, introduced in thefe tales, are even fuperior to all the pompous oriental fictions of die kind.
£ 4 a bro-
3 CATH-LODA;
a broken fong on wind. At times (lie tofTes her white arms : for grief is dwelling in her foul.
" Torcul-torno *, of aged locks !" fhe faid, " where now are thy fteps, by Lulan ? Thou had failed at thine own dark dreams, father of Conban-cargla! But I behold thee, chief of Lulan, fporting by Loda's hall, when the dark-lkirted night is rolled along the fky.— Thou, fometimes, hided the moon with thy fhield. I have feen her dim, in heaven. Thou
# Torcul-torno, according to tradition, was king of Crathlun, a diitricT: in Sweden. The river Lulan ran near the refidence of Torcul-torno. There is a river in Sweden, ftill called Lula, which is probably the fame with Lulan. The war between Starno and Torcul-torno, which terminated in the death of the latter, had its rife at a hunting party. Starno being invited, in a friendly manner, by Torcul-torno, both kings, with their followers, went to the mountains of Stivamore, to hunt. A boar rufhed from the wood before the kings, and Torcul-torno killed it. Starno thought this behaviour a breach upon the privilege of guefts, who were always honoured) as tradition exprefles it, ivith the danger of the chafe. A quarrel arofe, the kings came to battle, with all their at- tendants, and the party of Torcul-torno were totally de- feated, and he himfelf flain. Starno purfued his viclory, laid wade the diftricl of Carthlun, and, coming to the refidence of Torcul-torno, carried off, by force, Conban- carglasj the beautiful daughter of his enemy. Her he Confined in a cave, near the palace of Gonna), where, on account of her cruel treatment, (lie became diftr.acted.
The paragraph, juft now before us, is the fong of Con- ban-carglas, at the time fhe was discovered by Fingal. It is in lyric meafure, and fet to mufic, which is wild and firriple, and fo inimitably fuited to the filiation of the unhappy lady, that few can hear it without tears.
kindled:
DUAN FIRST, 9
kindleft thy hair into meteors, and failed along the night. Why am I forgot, in my cave, king of fhaggy boars? Look from the hall of Loda, on thy lonely daughter."
tC Who art thou," faid Fingal, " voice of night ?"
She, trembling, turned away.
" Who art thou, in thy darknefs ?"
She fhrunk into the cave.
The king loofed the thong from her hands, He afked about her fathers.
" Torcul-torno," ihe faid, <c once dwelt at Lul an's foamy ftream : he dwelt — but, now, in Loda's hall, he makes the founding fhell. He met Starno of Lochlin, in war ; long fought the dark-eyed kings. My father fell, in his blood, blue-fhielded Torcul-torno ! By a rock, at Lulan's ftream, I had pierc'd the bounding roe, My white hand gathered my hair, from off the rufhing winds'. I heard a noife. Mine eyes were up. My foft breaft rofe on high. My flep was forward, at Lulan, to meet thee, Torcul-torno ! It was Starno, dreadful king ! His red eyes rolled on me in love. Dark waved his fhaggy brow, above his gathered fmiie. Where is my father, I faid, he that was mighty in war ? Thou art left alone among foes, O daughter of Torcul- torno ! He took my hand. He raifed the fail. In this cave he placed me dark. At times, he comes, a gathered miit. He lifts, before me, my father's fhield. But often paries
a beam
to CATH-LODA:
a beam * of youth, far diftant from my cave. The fon of Starno moves in my fight. He dwells lonely in my foul."
" Maid of Lilian," laid Fingal, " white- handed daughter of grief ! a cloud, marked with ftreaks of fire, is rolled along thy foul. Look not to that dark-robed moon ; look not to thofe meteors of heaven. My gleaming fteel is around thee, the terror of thy foes ! It as not the fteel of the feeble, nor of the dark in foul ! The maids are not fhut in our f caves of ftreams. They tofs not their white arms alone. They bend, fair within their locks, above the harps of Selma. Their voice is not. in the defert wild. We melt along the
pleafing found !"
* # * * # * $
*#.#..'*_$*$
'Fingal, again, advanced his fteps, wide through the bofom of night, to where the trees of Loda (hook amid fqually winds. Three Hones, with heads of mofs, are there ; a ftream,
* By the beam of youth, it afterwards appears, that Con- ban-carglas means Swaran, the fon of Starno, with whom, daring her confinement, fhe had fallen in love.
f From this contrail, which Fingal draws, between his own nation and the inhabitants of Scandinavia, we may learn, that the former were much lefs barbarous than the latter. This diftinclion is fo much obferyed throughout the poems of Oilian, that there can be no doubt, that he followed the real manners of both nations in his owi> time. At the clofe of the fpeech of Fingal, there is a, great part of the original loft.
with
DUAN FIRST. f|
with foaming courfe : and dreadful, rolled around them, is the dark-red cloud of Loda. High from its top looked forward a ghoft, half-formed of the fhadowy fmoak. He poured his voice, at times, amidft the roaring ftream. Near, bending beneath a blafted tree, two he- roes received his words : Swaran of lakes, and Starno foe of ftrangers. On their dun fhields, they darkly leaned : their fpears are forward through night. Shrill founds the blaftofdark- nefs, in Starno' s floating beard.
They heard the tread of Fingal. The war- riors rofe in arms. " Swaran, lay that wan- derer low," faid Starno, in his pride. " Take the fhield of thy father. It is a rock in war." — Swaran threw his gleaming fpear. It flood fixed in Loda's tree, Then came the foes for- ward, with {Words. They mixed their rattling fteeJ. Through the thongs of Swaran's fhield rufhed the blade * of Luno. The fhield fell rolling on earth. Cleft the helmet f fell down. Fingal ftopt the lifted fteel. Wrath- ful flood Swaran, unarmed. He rolled his filent eyes ; he threw his fword on earth. Then, {lowly {talking over the ftream, he whiftled as he went.
Nor unfeen of his father is Swaran. Starno turns away in wrath. His fhaggy brows wave
* The fword of Fingal, fo called from its maker, Luno of Lochlin.
j The helmet of Swaran. The behaviour of Fingal is always confident with that generofity of fpirit which be- longs to a hero. lie takes no advantage of a foe difarmed,
dark,
i: CATH-LODA:
dark, above his gathered rage. He ftrikes Loda's tree, with his fpear. He raifes the hum of fongs. They come to the hcfl: of Lochlin, each in his own dark path ; like two foam- covered ilreams, from two rainy vales !
To Turthor's plain Fingal returned. Fair rofe the beam of the eaft. It fhone on the fpoils of Lochlin in the hand of the king. FroYn her cave came forth, in her beauty, the daughter of Torcul-torno. She gathered her hair from wind. She wildly raifed her fong. The fong of Lulan of fhells, where once her father dwelt. She faw Starno's bloody fhield. Gladnefs rofe, a light on her face. She faw the cleft helmet of Swaran *. She ihrunk, darkened, from Fingal. — " Art thou fallen, by thy hundred ilreams, O love of the mourn- ful maid 1"
U-thorno, that rifeft in waters ! on whofe fide are the meteors of night ! I behold the dark moon defcending, behind thy refounding woods. On thy top dwells the mifty Loda : the houfe of the fpirits of men ! In the end of his cloudy hall, bends forward Cruth-loda of
* Conban-carglas, from feeing the helmet of Swaran bloody in the hands of Fingal, conje&ured that that hero was killed. A part of the original is loft. It appears, however, from the fequel of the poem, that the daughter of Torcul-torno did not long furvive her furprize, occa- sioned by the fuppofed death of her lover. The defcrip- tion of the airy hall of Loda (which is fuppofed w be the fame with that of Odin, the deity of Scandinavia) is more pidurefque and defcriptive, than any in the Edda, or other works of the northern Scuklcrs.
fwords.
DUAN FIRST. 13
f words. His form is dimly feen, amid his wavy m id. His right-hand is on his fhield. In his left is the half- vie wlefs fhell. The rcof of his dreadful hall is marked with nightly fires !
The race of Cruth-loda advance, a ridge of formlefs fhades. He reaches the founding fhell, to thofe who flione in war. But, be- tween him and the feeble, his fhield rifes, a darkened orb. He is a letting meteor, to the weak in arms. Bright as a rainbow on ftreams, came Lilian's white-bofomed maid.
CATH-LODA:
POEM.
DUAN SECOND.
ARGUMENT,
FinGAL returning with day, devolves the command on Duth-maruno, who engages the enemy, and drives them over the ftream of Turthor. Having recalled his people, he congratulates Duth-maruno on his fuccefs, bufdifcovers, that that hero had been mortally wounded in the action.— -Duth-maruno dies. Ulin, the bard, in honour of the dead, introduces the epifods of Cok gorm and Strinadona, which concludes this du'dn*
L 17 3
CATH-LODA
DUAN SECOND.
« TT7HERE art thou, Ton of the king?" faid VV dark-haired Duth-maruno. " Where haft thou failed, young beam of Selma ? He returns not from the bofom of night ! Morn- ing is fpread on U-thorno. In his mift is the fun on his hill. Warriors, lift the fhields, in my prefence. He muft not fall, like a fire from heaven, whofe place is not marked on the ground. He comes, like an eagle, from the fkirt of his fqually wind ! In his hand are the fpoils of foes. King of Selma, our fouls were fad !"
" Near us are the foes, Duth-maruno. They come forward, like w7aves in mift, when their foamy tops are feen, at times, above the low-failing vapour. The traveller fhrinks on his journey ; he knows not whither to fly. No trembling travellers are wre ! Sons of he- roes call forth the fteel. Shall the fword of Fingal arife, or fhall a warrior lead ?"
* The deeds of old, faid Duth-maruno, are like paths to our eyes, O Fingal ! Broad
fhielded
* In this fhort epifode we have a very probable account given us, of the origin of monarchy in Caledonia. The
vol. i. e Cad
xS CATH-LODA:
fhielded Trenmor is ftill Teen, amid ft his own dim years. Nor feeble was the foul of the king. There, no dark deed wandered in fe- cret, From their hundred ftreams came the tribes, to grafly Colglancrona. Their chiefs were before them. Each firove to lead the war. Their fwords were often half-un- fheathed. Red rolled their eyes of rage. Se- parate they Hood, and hummed their furly longs. " Why mould they yield to each other ? their fathers were equal in war." Trenmor was there, with his people, (lately in
Gael or Gauls, who poiTeiTed the countries to the north of the Frith of Edinburgh, were, originally, a number of diilinct tribe; . or clans, each fubjecl to its own chief, who was free and independent of any other power. When the Romans invaded them, the common danger might, perhaps, have induced thofe reguli to join together ; hut, as they were unwilling to yield to the command of one of their own number, their battles were ill-con- ducted, and, confequently, unfuccefsful. Trenmor was the firft who reprefented to the chiefs, the bad conse- quences of carrying on their wars in this irregular man- ner, and ad-vifed, that they themfelves fhould alternately lead in battle. They did fo, but they were unfuccefsful. When it c me to Trenmor's turn, he totally defeated the enemy, by his fuperior valour and conduct, which gained him fuch an intereit among the tribes, that he, and his family after him, were regarded as kings; or, to ufe the poet's expreilion, the words of power rujhed forth from Silma of kings. The regal authority, however, except in time of war, was but inconiiderable ; for every chief, within his own diitncl, was abfolute and independent. From the fcene of the battle in this epfiode (which was in the valley of Croru, a little to the north of Agricola's wall), I fhould fuppofe, that the enemies of the Cale- donians were the Romans, or provincial Britons.
youthful
BUAN SECOND. 19.
youtliful locks. He faw the advancing foe. The grief of his foul arofe. He bade the chiefs to lead, by turns : they led, but they were rolled away. From his own mofTy hill, blue-fhielded Trenmor came down. He led wide-fkirted battle, and the ftrangers failed. Around him the dark-browed warriors came : they ftruck the £hield of joy. Like apleafant gale, the words of power ruined forth from Selma of kings. But the chiefs led, by turns, in war, till mighty danger rofe : then was the hour of the king to conquer in the field.
" Not unknown," faid Cromma-glafs * of fhields, " are the deeds of our fathers. But
who
• In tradition, this Cromma-glafs makes a great figure in that battle which Comhal loft, together with his life, to the tribe of Morni. I have juft now, in my hands, an Irifh compofition, of a very modern date, as appears from the language, in which all the traditions, concern- ing that decilive engagement, are jumbled together, In juftice to the merit of the poem, I fhould have here pre- fented to the reader a tranflation of it, did not the bard mention fome circumftances very ridiculous, and others altogether indecent. Morna, the wife of Comhal, had a principal hand in all the tranfattions previous to the defeat and death of her hufband •, (he, to ufe the words of the bard, ivho was the guiding far of the women of Erin. The bard, it is to be hoped, mifreprefented the ladies of his country, for Morna' s behaviour was, ac- cording to him, fo void of all decency and virtue, that it cannot be fuppofed, they had chofen her for their guiding Jlar. The poem confifts of many ftanzas. The lan- guage is figurative, and the numbers harmonious ; but the piece fo full of anachronifms, and fo unequal in its compofition, that the author, molt undoubtedly, was either mad, or drunk, when he wrote it. It is worthy of
c 2 being
2o CATH-LODA:
who mall now lead the war, before the race of kings ? Mift fettles on thefe four dark hills : within it let each warrior ftrike his fhield. Spirits may defcend in darknefs, and mark us for the war."
They went, each to his hill of mift. Bards marked the founds of the fhields. Louden: rung thy bofs, Duth-maruno. Thou muft lead in war !
Like the murmur of waters, the race of U-thorno came down. Starno led the battle, and Swaran of ftormy ifles. They looked forward from iron fhields, like Cruth-loda fiery-eyed, when he looks from behind the darkened moon, and ftrews his llgns on night. The foes met by Turthor's ftream. They heaved like ridgy waves. Their echoing ftrokes are mixed. Shadowy death flies over the hofts. They were clouds of hail, with fqually winds in their fkirts. Their fhowers are roaring together. Below them fwells the dark-rolling deep.
Strife of gloomy U-thorno, why mould I mark thy wounds ! Thou art with the years that are gone ; thou fad eft on my foul !
Starno brought forward his fkirt of war, and Swaran his own dark wing. Nor a harm- lefs fire is Duth-maruno's fword. Lochlin is
being remarked, that Comhal is, in this poem, very often' called, Comhal na tiAlb'in, or Comhal of Albion, which iufhciently demonftrates, that the allegations of Keating and O'Flaherty, concerning Fiqn Mac-Corn na!, are but of late invention.
rolled
DUAN SECOND. 21
rolled over her ftreams. The wrathful kings are loft in thought. They roll their filent eyes, over the flight of their land. The horn of Fingal was heard ; the fons of woody Albion returned. But many lay, by Turthor's ftream, filent in their blood.
" Chief of Crathmo," faid the king, <c Duth-maruno, hunter of boars ! not harm- lefs returns my eagle from the field of foes ! For this white-bofomed Lanul mall brighten, at her ftreams ; Candona (hall rejoice, as he wanders in Crathmo's fields."
" Colgorm*," replied the chief, " was the firft of my race in Albion ; Colgorm, the rider of ocean, through its watry vales. He flew his brother in I- thorno f : he left the land of his fathers. He chofe his place, in filence, by rocky Crathmo-craulo. His race came forth, in their years ; they came forth to war, but they always fell. The wound of my fathers is mine, king of echoing ifles !
* The family of Duth-maruno, it appears, came ori- ginally from Scandinavia, or, at leaft, from fome of the northern ifles, fubjecl, in chief, to the kings of Lochlin. The Highland fenachies, who never miffed to make their comments on, and additions to, the works of Oman, have given us a long lift of the anceftors of Duth-maruno, and a particular account of their actions, many of which are of the marvellous kind. One of the tale-makers of the north has chofen for his hero, Sta rumor, the father of Duth-maruno, and, confidering the adventures through which he has led him, the piece is neither difagreeable, nor abounding with that kind of fiction which {hocks credibility.
f An iiland of Scandinavia.
c 3 " He
k* CATH-LODA:
" He drew an arrow from his fide ! He fell pale, in a land unknown. His foul came -forth to his fathers, to their ftormy ifle. There they purfued boars of mifl. along the fkirts of wind?. The chiefs flood filent around, as the ftones of Loda, on their hill. The traveller fees them, tWough the twilight, from his lonely path. He thinks them the ghofts of the aged, forming future wars.
" Night came down, on U-thorno. Still flood the chiefs in their grief. The blaft whifUed, by turns, through every warrior's hair. Fin-gal, at length, broke forth from the thoughts of his foul. He called Ullin of harps, and bade thefongto rife. " No falling fire, that is only feen, and then retires in night ; no departing meteor was he that is laid fo low. He was like the ftrong-beaming fun, long rejoicing on his hill. Gall the names of his fathers, from their dwellings old !"
I-thorno*, faid the bard, that rife ft midft
* This epifode is, in the original, extremely beautiful. It is fet to that wild kind of mufic, which fome of the Highlanders diftinguiib, by the title of Fan Oi-marra, or, trie Sotig of mermaids. Some part of the air is abfolutely Infernal, but there are many returns in the meafure, which are inexpreffibly Maid and beautiful. From the genius of the mufic, I mould think it came originally from Scandinavia, for the fictions delivered down con- cerning the Oi-marra (who are reputed the authors of the mufic), exactly correfpond with the notions of the iiorthern nations, concerning the dine, or goddejfes of death.— Of all the names in this epifode, there is none of a Gallic original, except Strina-dona5 which fignifies the .fir if e of heroes \
ridgy
DU AN SECOND. 23
ridgy feas ! Why is thy head fo gloomy, in the ocean's mrfi ? From thy vales came forth a race, fearfefs ts thy ftrong-winged eagles; the race of Colgorm of iron fhields, dwellers of Loda's huH.
In Tormoth's refounding ifle, arofe Lurthan, ftreamy hill. It bent its woody head over a filent vale. There, at foamy Cruruth's fource, dwelt Rurmar, hunter of boars ! His daugh- ter was fair as a fun-beam, white-bofomed Strina-dona !
Many a king of heroes, and hero of iron fliields ; many a youth of heavy locks came to Rurmar's echoing hall. They came to woo the maid, the ftately huntrefs of Tormoth wild. But thou lookeft carelefs from thy fteps, high-bofomed Strina-dona !
If on the heath fhe moved, her bread was "whiter than the down of Cana * ; if on the fea-beat more, than the foam of the rolling ocean. Her eyes were two ftars of light. Her face was heaven's bow in fhowers. Her dark hair flowed round it, like the ftreaming clouds, Thou wert the dweller of fouls, white-handed Strina-dona !
Colgorm came, in his fhip, and Corcul- furan, king of fhells. The brothers came,
* The Cana is a certain kind of grafs, which grows plentifully in the heathy morafles of the north. Its ftalk is of the reedy kind, and it carries a tuft of down, very much refembling cotton. It is exceftively white, and, confequently, often introduced by the barcte, in their fimiles concerning the beauty of women.
c 4. from
&f CATH-LODA.
from I-thorno, to woo the fun-beam of Tor- moth wild. She faw them in their echoing flee!. Her foul was fixed on blue-eyed Col- gorm. Ul-lochlin's * nightly eye looked in, and faw the toffing arms of Strina-dona.
Wrathful the brothers frowned. Their flaming eyes, in filence, met. They turned away. They ftruck their fhields. Their hands were trembling on their fwords. They rufhed into the ftrife of heroes, for long-haired Stri- na-dona.
Corcul-furan fell in blood. On his ifle, raged the ftrength of his father. He turned Colgorm, from I-thorno, to wander on all the winds. In Crathmo-craulo's rocky field, he dwelt by a foreign firearm Nor darkened the king alone, that beam of light was near, the daughter of echoing Tormoth, white-armed Strina-dona f .
* Ul-lochlin, the guide to Lochlin. ; the name of a ftar.
\ The continuation of this epifode is juft now in my hands ; but the language is fo different from, and the ideas fo unworthy of, Oman, that I have rejected it, as an interpolation by a modern bard.
CAT H-L O D A:
POEM.
DUAN THIRD.
ARGUMENT,
Ossian, after fome general reflections, defcribes the fituation of Fingal, and the pofition of the army of Lochlin.— The converfation of Starno and Swaran.— The epifode of Corman-trunar and Foina-bragal.— . Starno, from his own example, recommends to Swaran, to furprife Fingal, who had retired alone to a neigh- bouring hill. Upon Swaran's refufal, Starno under- takes the enterprife himfelf, is overcome, and taken prifoner, by Fingal.— He is difmiffed, after a fevere reprimand for his cruelty.
t *7 ]
CATH-LODA:
w
DUAN THIRD.
hence is the ftream of years ? Whither do they roll along ? Where have they hid, in mill, their many- coloured fides i
I look into the times of old, but they feem dim to Offian's eyes, like reflected moon- beams, on a diftant lake. Here rife the red beams of war ! There, filent, dwells a feeble race ! They mark no years with their deeds, as flow they pafs along. Dweller between the fhields ! thou that awaked the failing foul ! defcend from thy wall, harp of Cona, with thy voices three ! Come with that which kindles the pail : rear the forms of old, on their own dark- brown years !
* U-thorno, hill of ftorms, I behold my race on thy fide. Fingal is bending, in night,
over
* The bards, who were always ready to fupply what they thought deficient in the poems of Gflian, have in- ferted a great many incidents between the fecond and third dulin of Cath-loda. Their interpolations are fo eafily diftinguifhed from the genuine remains of Oflian, that it took me very little time to mark them out, and totally to reject them. If the modern Scotch and Irifh bards have (hewn any judgment, it is in afcribing their own compositions to names of antiquity, for, by that
means,
28 CATH-LODA:
over Duth-maruno's tomb. Near him are the fteps of his heroes, hunters of the boar. By Turthor's ftream the hoft of Lochlin is deep in fhades. The wrathful kings flood on two hills ; they looked forward from their bofly fhields. They looked forward to the ftars of night, red-wandering in the weft. Cruth-loda bends from high, like a formlefs meteor in clouds. He fends abroad the winds, and marks them with his figns. Starno forefaw, that Morven's king was not to yield in war.
He twice ftruck the tree in wrath. He rullied before his ion. He hummed a furly
means, they themfelves have efcaped that contempt, which the authors of fuch futile performances mult, necefTarily, have met with, from people of true tafle. I was led into this observation, by an Irifh poem, juft now before me. It concerns a defcent made by Swaran, king of Lochlin, on Ireland, and is the work, fays the traditional preface prefixed to it, of OJpan Mac-Fion. It however appears, from feveral pious ejaculations, that it was rather the compofition of feme good pried, in the fifteenth or fixteenth century, for he fpeaks, with great devotion, of pilgrimage, and more particularly, of the blue-eyed daughters of the convent. Religious, however, as this poet was, he was not altogether decent, in the fcenes he introduces between Swaran and the wife of Congcullion, both of whom he reprefents as giants. It happening, unfortunately, that Congcullion was only of a moderate ftature, his wife, without hefitation, preferred Swaran, as a more adequate match for her own gigantic flze. From this fatal preference proceeded fo much mifchief, that the good poet altogether loft fight of his principal action, and he ends the piece, with advice to men, in the choice of their wives, which, however good it may be, I (hall leave concealed in the obfeurity of the original,
fong;
DUAN THIRD. 29
fong ; and heard his hair in wind. Turned * from one another, they flood, like two oaks, which different winds had bent ; each hangs over its own loud rill, and fhakes its boughs in the courfe of blafts.
" Annir," faid Starno of lakes, " was a fire that confumed of old. He poured death from his eyes, along the ftriving fields. His joy was in the fall of men. Blood to him was a fummer dream, that brings joy to wi- thered vales, from its own mo fly rock. He came forth to the lake Luth-cormo, to meet the tall Corman-trunar, he from Urlor of flreams, dweller of battle's wing."
The chief of Urlor had come to Gormal, with his dark-bofomed fhlps. He faw the daughter of Annir, white-armed Foina-bra- gal. He faw her ! Nor carelefs rolled her eyes, on the rider of flormy waves. She fled to his fhip in darknefs, like a moon-beam through a nightly vale. Annir purfued along the deep ; he called the winds of heaven. Nor alone was the king ! Starno was by his
* The furly attitude of Starno and Swaran is well adapted to their fierce and uncomplying difpofitions. Their characters, at firft fight, feem little different ; but, upon examination, we find that the poet has dexteroufly diftinguifhed between them. They were both dark, flubborn, haughty, and referved ; but Starno was cun- ning, revengeful, and cruel, to the highe ft degree; the difpofition of Swaran, though favage, was lefs bloody, and fomewhat tinctured with generofity. It is doing injuftice to Offian, to fay, that he has not a great variety of characters.
10 fide*
30 CATH-LODA:
fide. Like U-thorno's young eagle, I turned my eyes on my father.
We rufhed into roaring Urlor. With his people came tall Corman-trunar. We fought ; but the foe prevailed. In his wrath my father flood. He lopped the young trees, with his fword. His eyes rolled red in his rage. I marked the foul of the king, and I retired in night. From the field I took a broken hel- met : a fhield that was pierced with fteel : pointlefs was the fpear in my hand. I went to find the foe.
On a rock fat tall Corman-trunar, befide his burning oak ; and near him, beneath a tree, fat deep-bofomed Foina-bragal. I threw my broken fhield before her. I fpoke the words of peace. " Befide his rolling fea, lies An- nir of many lakes. The king was pierced in battle ; and Starno is to raife his tomb. Me, a fon of Loda, he fends to white-handed Foina, to bid her fend a lock from her hair, to reft with her father, in earth. And thou king of roaring Urlor, let the battle ceafe, till Annir receive the fhell,from fiery-eyed Cruth-loda."
* Burfting into tears, me rofe and tore a lock from her hair ; a lock, which wandered,
* Oflian is very partial to the fair fex. Even the daughter of the cruel Annir, the filler of the revengeful and bloody Starno, partakes not of thofe difagreeable characters fo peculiar to her family. She is altogether tender and delicate. Homer, of all ancient poets, ufes the fex with leaic ceremony. His cold contempt is even worfe than the downright abufe of the moderns ; for to draw abufe implies the pofTefiion of fome merit.
5 in
DUAN THIRD. $1
in the blaft, along her heaving breaft. Cor- man-trunar gave the fhell ; and bade me to rejoice before him. I refted in the fhade of night ; and hid my face in my helmet deep. Sleep defcended on the foe. I rofe, like a (talking ghoft. I pierced the fide of Corman- trunar. Nor did Foina-bragal efcape. She rolled her white bofom in blood.
Why then, daughter of heroes, didft thou wake my rage ?
Morning rofe. The foe were fled, like the departure of mift. Annir {truck his boffy fhield. He called his dark-haired fon. I came, ftreaked with wandering blood : thrice rofe the fhout of the king, like the burfting forth of a fquall of wind from a cloud, by night. We rejoiced, three days, above the dead, and called the hawks of heaven. They came, from all their winds, to feaft on Annir's foes. Swaran, Fingal is alone *, on his hill of night. Let thy fpear pierce the king in fecret j like Annir, my foul (hall rejoice.
" Son of Annir," faid Swaran, " I mail not (lay in mades, I move forth in light : the hawks rufh from all their w7inds. They are wont to trace my courfe : it is not harmlefs thro' war."
* Fingal, according to the cuftom of the Caledonian kings, had retired to a hill alone, as he himfelf was to refume the command of the army the next day. Starno might have fome intelligence of the king's retiring, which occafions his reque.t to Swaran, to ftab him •, as he fore- faw, by his art of divination, that he could not overcome him in open battle.
Burning
32 CATH LODA.
Burning rofe the rage of the king. He thrice raifed his gleaming fpear. But, dart- ing, he fpared his fon ; and rufhed into the night. By Turthor's ftream a cave is dark, the dwelling of Conban-carglas. There he laid the helmet of kings, and called the maid of Lulan ; but Ihe was diftant far, in Loda's refounding hall.
Swelling in his rage, he ftrode, to where Fingal lay alone. The king was laid on his fhield, on his own fecret hill.
Stern hunter of maggy boars ! no feeble maid is laid before thee. No boy, on his ferny bed, by Turthor's murmuring ftream. Here is fpread the couch of the mighty, from which they rife to deeds of death ! Hunter of fhaggy boars, awaken not the terrible !
Starno came murmuring on. Fingal arofe in arms. " Who art thou, fon of night ?" Silent he threw the fpear. They mixed their gloomy ftrife. The fhield of Starno fell, cleft in twain. He is bound to an oak. The early beam arofe. It was then Fingal beheld the king. He rolled awhile his filent eyes. He thought of other days, when white-bo- fomed Agandecca moved like the mufic of fongs. He loofed the thong from his hands. Son of Annir, he faid, retire. Retire to Gormal of fhells ; a beam that was fet returns. I re- member thy white-bofomed daughter ; dread- ful king, away ! Go to thy troubled dwelling, cloudy foe of the lovely ! Let the ftranger fhun thee, thou gloomy in the hall ! A tale of the times of old !
C O M A L A:
DRAMATIC POEM.
VOL. I.
ARGUMENT.
This poem is valuable en account of the light it throws on the antiquity of Oflian's compofitions. The Cara- cul mentioned here is the fame with Caracalla the fon of Severus, who in the year 2 1 1 commanded an expe- dition againfl: the Caledonians. The variety of the meafure (hews that the poem was originally fet to mufic, and perhaps prefented before the chiefs upon folemn occafions. Tradition has handed down the ftory more complete than it is in the poem. " Comala, the daughter of Sarno king of Iniftore or Orkney iflands, fell in love with Fingal the fon of Comhal at a feafl, to which her father had invited him, [Fingal, B. III.] upon his return from Lochlin, after the death of Agandecca. Her pafTion was fo violent, that fhe fol- lowed him difguifed like a youth, who wanted to be employed in his wars. She was foon difcovered by Hidallan the fon of Lamor, one of Fingal's heroes, whofe love fhe had flighted fome time before. Her romantic paffion and beauty recommended her fo much to the king, that he had refolved to make her his wife ; when news was brought him of Caracul's expedition. He marched to flop the progrefs of the enemy, and Comala attended him. He left her on a hill, within fight of Caracul's army, when he himfelf went to battle, having previoufly promifed, if he furvived, to return that night." The fequel of the ftory may be. gathered from the poem itfelf.
r is 3 C O M A L A
A
DRAMATIC POEM.
The PERSONS.
Fingal. Melilcoma, ^daughters
Hidallan. Dersagrena, jofMomi. Comala. Bards.
Dersagrena.
The chafe is over. No noife on Ardven but the torrent's roar ! Daughter of Morni, come from Crona's banks. Lay down the bow and take the harp. Let the night come on with fcngs, let our joy be great on Ardven.
Melilcoma *.
Night comes apace, thou blue-eyed maid I grey night grows dim along the plain. I faw a deer at Crona's ftream ; a moffy bank he feemed through the gloom, but foon he bounded away. A meteor played round his
* Melilcoma,— /oft-rolling eye.
D 2 branching
36 COMALA:
branching horns ! the awful faces * of other times looked from the clouds of Crona !
Dersagrena f.
Thcfe are the figns of Fingal's death. The king of fhields is fallen ! and Caracul prevails. Rife, Comala J, from thy rock ; daughter of Starno, rife in tears ! The youth of thy love is low ; his ghoft is on our hills,
Melilcoma.
There Comala fits forlorn ! two grey dogs near (hake their rough ears, and catch the flying breeze. Her red cheek reds upon her arm, the mountain wind is in her hair. She turns her blue eyes toward the fields of his promife. Where art thou, 0 Fingal ? the night is gathering around !
Comala.
O Carun § of the ftreams ! why do I be- hold
* Apparent dirafaciesy inimicaque Troja
Numitia magna deum, VlRG,
dreadful founds I hear,
And the dire form of hoftile gods appear.
Drvden,
f Derfagrena, the Wight nefs of a fun-beam,
% Comala, the maid of the pleafant brow,
§ Carun or Cara'on, a winding river. — This river re* tains ftill the name of Carron, and falls into the Forth fome miles to the north of Falkirk.
m Gent ef que alias cum pelleret armis
Sedibus, aut viclas vi/em fervaret in ufum
~ Servitiif
A DRAMATIC POEM. 37
hold thy waters rolling in blood ? Has the noife of the battle been heard ; and fleeps the king of Morven ? Rife, moon, thou daughter of the fky ! look from between thy clouds, rife that I may behold the gleam of his fteel, on the field of his promifr. Gr rather let the meteor, that lights our fathers through the night, come, with its red beam, to fhe?" r&e the way to my fallen hero. Who will defend me from forrow ? Who from the love of Hidallan ? Long fhall Comala look before flic can behold Fingal in the midft of his hoft ; bright as the coming forth of the morning in the cloud of an early fhower.
Hidallan f.
Dwell, thou mift of gloomy Crona, dwell on the path of the king ! Hide his fteps from mine eyes, let me remember my friend no more. The bands of battle are fcattered, no
Servitii, hie content a fuos defender e fines Roma feeurigeris pratendit mcen'ia Scotls : Hie fpe progrejpis pofita, Caronis ad undam Terminus Aufoniiftgnat divortia regni,
BtJCHAN-W.
f Hidallan was fent by Fingal to pve notice to Comala *>f his return ; he, to revenge himfelf on her for flighting his love fome time before, told her that the king was killed in battle. He even pretended that he carried his body from the field to be buried in her prefence ; and this circumftance makes it probable that the poem was prefented of old.
D 3 crowding
38 COMALA:
crowding tread is round the noife of his fteeh O Carun ! roll thy ftreams of blood, the chief of the people is low.
Comala.
Who fell on Carun's founding banks, fon of the cloudy night ? Was he white as the fnow of Ardven ? Blooming as the bow of the fhower ? Was his hair like the mift of the hill, foft and curling in the day of the fun ? Was he like the thunder of heaven in battle ? Fleet as the roe of the defart ?
HlDALLAN.
O that I might behold his love, fair-leaning from her rock ! Her red eye dim in tears, her blufhing cheek half hid in her locks ! Blow, G gentle breeze ! lift thou the heavy locks of the maid, that I may behold her white arm, her lovely cheek in her grief.
Comala.
And is the fon of Comhal fallen, chief of the mournful tale ? The thunder rolls on the hill ! The lightning flies on wings of fire ! They frighten not Comala ; for Fingal is low. Say, chief of the mournful tale, fell the breaker of the fhields ?
HlDALLAN,
A DRAMATIC POEJVf. 39
HlJDALLAN.
The nations are fcattered on their hills ! they fhall hear the voice of the king no more.
Comala.
Confufion purfue thee over thy plains ! Ruin overtake thee, thou king of the world ! Few be thy fteps to thy grave ; and let one virgin mourn thee ! Let her be like Comala, tearful in the days of her youth ! Why haft thou told me, Hidallan, that my hero fell ? I might have hoped a little while his return, I might have thought I faw him on the diftant rock ; a tree might have deceived me with his appearance ; the wind of the hill might have been the found of his horn in mine ear. O that I were on the banks of Carun ! that my tears might be warm on his cheek !
Hidallan.
He lies not on the banks of Carun : on Ardven heroes raife his tomb. Look on them, O moon ! from thy clouds ; be thy beam bright on his breaft, that Comala may behold him in the light of his armour.
Comala.
Stop, ye fons of the grave, till I behold my love ! He left me at the chafe alone. I knew
D 4 not
40 COMALA:
not that he went to war. He faid he would return with the night ; the king of Morven is returned ! Why didft thou not tell me that he would fall, O trembling dweller of the rock * ! Thou faweft him in the blood of his youth ; but thou didft not tell Comala I
Mflilcoma.
What found is that on Ardven ? Who is that bright in the vale ? Who comes like the firength of rivers, when their crowded waters glitter to the moon ?
Comala.
Who is it but the foe of Comala, the fon of the king of the world ! Ghoft of Fingal ! do thou, from thy cloud, direct Comala's bow. Let him fall like the hart of the defart. It is Fingal in the crowd of his ghofts. Why doft thou come, my love, to frighten and pleaie my foul?
Fingal.
Ralfe, ye bards, the fong ; raife the wars of the flreamy Carun ! Caracul has fled from our arms along the fields of his pride. He fets far diftant like a meteor, that inclofes a fpirit
* By the dweller of the rock (he means a druic!. It is probable that fome of the order of the druids remained as late as the beginning of the reign of Fingal ; and that Comala had confulted one of them concerning the event of the war with Caracul
of
A DRAMATIC POEM. 4*
of night, when the winds drive it over the heath, and the dark woods are gleaming around. I heard a voice, or was it the breeze of my hills ? Is it the huntrefs of Ardven, the white-handed daughter of Sarno ? Look from thy rocks, my love ; let me hear the voice of Comala !
Comala.
Take me to the cave of thy reft, O lovely fon of death !
FlNGAL.
Come to the cave of my reft. The ftorm is paft, the fun is on our fields. Come to the cave of my reft, huntrefs of echoing Ardven !
Comala,
He is returned with his fame ! I feel the right hand of his wars ! But I muft reft befide the rock till my foul returns from my fear ! O let the harp be near ! raife the iong, ye daughters of Morni !
Dersagrena.
Comala has {Iain three deer on Ardven, the fire afcends on the rock ; go to the feaft of Comala, king of the woody Morven !
Fingal,
42 C O M A L A
FlNGAL,
Raife, ye fons of fong, the wars of the ftreamy Carun ; that my white-handed maid may rejoice : while I behold the feaft of my love.
Bards.
Roll, flreamy Carun, roll in joy, the fons of battle are fled ! The fteed is not feen on our fields ; the wings * of their pride fpread in other lands. The fun will now rife in peace, and the fhadows defcend in joy. The voice of the chafe will be heard ; the ihields hang in the hall. Our delight will be in the war of the ocean, our hands fhall grow red in the blood of Lochlin. Roll, ftreamy Carun, roll in joy, the fons of battle fled !
Melilcoma.
Defcend, ye light mills from high ! Ye moon-beams, lift her foul ! Pale lies the maid at the rock ! Comala is no more !
FlNGAL.
Is the daughter of Sarno dead ; the white- bofomed maid of my love ? Meet me, Comala, on my heaths, when I fit alone at the ftreams of my hills !
* Perhaps the poet alludes to the Roman eagle.
HlDALLAN.
A DRAMATIC POEM. 43
HlDALLAN.
Ceafed the voice of the huntrefs of Ard- ven ? Why did I trouble the foul of the maid ? When fhall I fee thee, with joy, in the chafe of the dark-brown hinds ?
Fingal.
Youth of the gloomy brow ! no more fhalt thou feaft in my halls. Thou fhalt not purfue my chafe, my foes fhall not fall by thy iword *. Lead me to the place of her reft, that I may behold her beauty. Pale fhe lies at the rock, the cold winds lift her hair. Her bow- firing founds in the blaft, her arrow was broken in her fall. Raife the praife of the daughter of Sarno ! give her name to the winds of heaven.
Bards.
See ! meteors gleam around the maid ! See ! moon- beams lift her foul ! Around her, from their clouds, bend the awful faces of her fathers ; Sarno j~ of the gloomy brow ! the red-rolling eyes of Fidallan ! When fhall thy white hand arife ? When fhall thy voice be heard on our rocks ? The maids (hall feek thee
* The fequel of the ftory of Hidallan is introduced in another poem.
f S:irno the father of Comala died foon after the flight of his daughter. Fidallan was the firft king that
reigned in Iniftore,
on
44 C O M A L A, Sec.
on the heath, but they fhall not find thee* Thou fhalt come, at times, to their dreams, to fettle peace in their foul. Thy voice fhall remain in their ears, they fhall think with joy on the dreams of their reft. Meteors gleam around the maid, and moon-beams lift her foul!
CARRIC-THURA:
POEM.
ARGU M E N T.
Fingal, returning from an expedition which he had madd into the Roman province, refolved to vifit Cathulla king of Iniftore, and brother to Comala, whofe (lory4 is related at large in the preceding dramatic poem. Upon his coming in fight of Carric-thura, the palace of Cathulla, he obferved a flame on its top, which, in thofe days, was a fignal of diftrefs. The wind drove him into a bay, at fome diftance from Carric-thura, and he was obliged to pafs the night on the more. Next day he attacked the army of Frothal king of Sora, who had befieged Cathulla in his palace of Carric-thura, and took Frothal himielf prifouer, after he had engaged him in a fignal combat. The deliverance of Carric- thura is the fubject. of the poem •, but feveral other epifodes are interwoven with it. It appears from tradition, that this poem was addrefied to a Culdee, or one of the frffl Chriftian miflionaries, and that the flory of the Spirit of Loda, fuppofed to be the ancient Odin of Scandinavia, was introduced by Oflian in op* pofition to the Culdee's doctrine. Be this as it will, it lets us into Oflian's notions of a fuperior being ; and fhews that he was not addicted to the fuperftition which prevailed all the world over, before the introduction of Chriftianity.
C 47 ]
CARRIC-THURA
POEM,
Hast * thou left thy blue courfe in heaven, golden-haired fon of the iky ! The weft has opened its gates ; the bed of thy repofe is there. The waves come to behold thy beauty. They lift their trembling heads. They fee thee lovely in thy fleep ; they fhrink away with fear. Reft, in thy fhadowy cave, O fun ! let thy return be in joy.
But let a thoufand lights arife to the found of the harps of Selrna : let the beam fpread in the hall, the king of fheils is returned ! The ftrife of Carun is paft f, like founds that are no more. Raife the fong, O bards ! the king is returned, with his fame !
* The fong of Ullin, with which the poem opens, is in a lyric meafure. It was ufual with Fingal, when he re- turned from his expeditions, to fend his bards fmging before him. This fpecies of triumph is called by Oman, the fong of viciory.
f Offtan has celebrated the ftrife of Crona, in a parti- cular poem. This poem is connected with it, but it was impoflible for the tranflator to procure that part which relates to Crona, with any degree of purity,
10 Such
48 CARRIC-THURA:
Such were the words of Ullin, when Fingal returned from war : when he returned in the fair blufhing of youth, with all his heavy locks. His blue arms were on the hero ; like a light cloud on the fun, when he moves in his robes of mift, and fhews but half his beams. His heroes followed the king : the feaft of fhells is fpread. Fingal turns to his bards, and bids the fong to rife.
Voices of echoing Cona ! he faid, O bards of other times ! Ye, on whofe fouls the blue hofts of our fathers rife 1 ftrike the harp in my hall ; and let me hear the fong. Pleafant is the joy of grief ; it is like the mower o£ fpring, when it foftens the branch of the oak, and the young leaf rears its green head. Sing on, O bards ! to-morrow we lift the fail. My blue courfe is through the ocean, to Carric- thura's walls ; the moffy walls of Sarno, where Comala dwelt. There the noble Cathulla fpreads the feaft of fhells. The boars of his woods are many ; the found of the chafe fhall arlfe !
Cronnan *, fon of the fong ! faid Ullin, Minona, graceful at the harp ! raife the tale of Shilric, to pleafe the king of Morven. Let
* One mould think that the parts of Shilric and Vin- vela were reprefented by Cronnan and Minona, whole Very names denote that they were fingers, who performed in public. Cronnon fignifies a mournful found) Minona, Of Mitl-*6flil)-i/Sjj£ air. All the dramatic poems of Oflian appear to have been prefented before Fingal, upon folcmn occafions*
Vinvela
A P O E M. 49
Vinvela come in her beauty, like the fhowery bow, when it {hews its lovely head on the lake, and the fetting ftin is bright. Sfte comes, O Hngal ! her voice is foft but fad.
Vinvela.
My love is a Ton of the hill. He purfues the flying deer. His grey dogs are panting around him ; his bow-ftring founds in the wind. Doll: thou reft by the fount of the rock, or by the noife of the mountain- ftream ? the rufhes are nodding to the wind, the mift flies over the hill. I will approach my love unfeen ; I will behold him from the rock. Lovely I faw thee firft by the aged oak of Branno * ; thou wert returning tall from the chafe ; the faireft among thy friends.
Shilric.
What voice is that I hear ? that voice like the fummer-wind ! I fit not by the nodding rufhes ! I hear not the fount of the rock. Afar, Vinvela f , afar, I go to the wars of Fin- gal. My dogs attend me no more. No more
* Bran, or Branno, fignifies a mountain-fream : it is here fome river known by that name, in the clays of Ofiian. There are feveral fmall rivers in the north of Scotland ftill retaining the name of Bran ; in particular one which falls into the Tay at Dunkeld.
f Bhin bheul, a woman iv'ith a melodious voice. Bh in the Galic language has the fame found with the v in Englifh.
vol. i. £ I tread
P CARRlC-THtTftAr
I tread the hill. No more from on high I Tee thee, fair moving by the ftream of the plain g bright as the bow of heaven -f as the moon on the weftern wave.
VtNVELA.
Then thou art gone, O Shilric f I am alone ©n the hill I The deer are feen on the brow % void of feat they graze along. No more they dread the wind ; no more the ruftMng tree. The hunter is far removed ; he is m the field of graves. Strangers ! fons of the waves I fpare my lovely Shilric !
Shilric.
If fall I muft in the field, raife high my grave, Vinvela. Grey (tones, and heaped-ur> earth, mail mark me to future times. When the hunter mall fit by the mound1, and produce his food at noon, " Some warrior reds here," he will fay ; and my fame (hall live in his praife. Remember me> Vinvela, when low on earth I lie I
Vinvela.
Yes f I will remember thee ; alas ! my Shilric will fail f What mail I do, my love f when thou art for ever gone ? Through thefe hills I will go at noon : I will go through the filent heath. There I will fee the place of thy reft,, returning from the chafe. Alas !
A *> O £ M. $i
my Shilric will fall ; but I will remember Shilric.
And I remember the chief, faid the king of woody Morven ; he confumed the battle in his rage. But now my eyes behold him not. I met him, one day, on the hill ; his cheek was pale ; his brow was dark. The figh was frequent in his breaft : his fteps were towards the defart* But now he is not in the crowd of my chiefs, when the founds of my fhields arife. Dwells he in the narrow houfe *, the chief of high Carmora f I
Cronnan ! faid Ullin of other times, raife the fong of Shilric 7 when he returned to his hills, and Vinvela was no more. He leaned on her grey moify ftone ; he thought Vinvela lived. He faw her fair moving J on the plain : but the bright form lafted not : the fun-beam fled from the field, and (he was feen no more. Hear the fong of Shilric, it is foft but fad !
I fit by the mofiy fountain ; on the top of the hill of winds. One tree is ruftling above me. Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is troubled below. The deer defcend from the hill. No hunter at a diftance is feen. It
* The grave.
•j- Carn-mor, high rocky hill.
% The diftinc~lion which the ancient Scots made be- tween good and bad fpirits, was, that the former appeared fometimes in the day-time in lonely unfrequented places, but the latter never but by night, and in a difmal gloomy fcene.
£ 2 IS
JV CARRRIC-THURA:
is mid-day : but all is filent. Sad are my thoughts alone. Didft thou but appear, O my love ! a wanderer on the heath ! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee ; thy bofom heaving on the fight ; thine eyes full of tears for thy friends, whom the mift of the hill had concealed ! Thee I would comfort, my love, and bring thee to thy father's houfe !
But is it me that there appears, like a beam of light on the heath ? bright as the moon in autumn, as the fun in a fummer-ftorm, comeft thou, O maid, over rocks, over mountains to me ? She fpeaks : but how weak her voice 1 like the breeze in the reeds of the lake.
*' Returned thou fafe from the war ? Where are thy friends, my love ? I heard of thy death on the hill ; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric ! Yes, my fair, I return ; but I alone of my race. Thou (halt fee them no more : their graves I raiftd on the plain But why art thou on the defert hill ? Why on the heath alone ?
" Alone I am, O Shilric ! alone in the winter-houfe. With grief for thee I fell. Shilric, I am pale in the tomb."
She fleets, fhe fails away ; as mift before the wind ! and wilt thou not flay, Vinvela ? Stay and behold my tears ! fair thou appeareft, Vinvela ! fair thou waft, when alive !
By the mo fTy fountain I will fit ; on the top of the hill of winds. When mid-day is dent around, O talk with me, Vinvela ! come on the light- winged gale ! on the breeze of
10 the
A P O E M. 53
the defert, come ! Let me hear thy voice, as thou paffeft, when mid-day is filent around !
Such was the fong of Cronnan, on the night of Selma's joy. But morning rofe in the eaft ; the blue waters rolled in light. Fingal bade his fails to rife ; the winds came ruftling from their hills. Iniftore rofe to fight, and Carric-thura's mofiy towers ! But the fign of diftrefs was on their top : the warning flame edged with fmoke. The king of Morven flruck his bread : he affumed, at once, his fpear. His darkened brow bends forward to the coaft : he looks back to the lagging winds. His hair is difordered on his back. The filence of the king is terrible !
Night came down on the fea ; Rotha's bay received the (hip. A rock bends along the coaft with all its echoing wood. On the top is the circle * of Loda, the moffy ftone of power ! A narrow plain fpreads beneath, co- vered with grafs and aged trees, which the midnight winds, in their wrath, had torn from the ihaggy rock. The bluecourfe of a dream is there ! the lonely blaft of Gcean purities the thiftle's beard. The flame of three oaks arofe : the feaft is fpread around : but the foul of the king is fad, for Carric-thura's chief dinreft.
The wan, cold moon rofe, in the eaft. Sleep defcended on the youths ! Their blue helmets
* The circle of Loda is fuppofed to be a place of woi% fliip among the Scandinavians, as the fpirit of Loda is thought to be the fame with their god Odin. " '
E 3 glitter
54 CARRIC-THURA:
glitter to tne beam ; the fading fire decays. But fleep did not reft on the king : he rofe in the midft of his arms, and flowiy afcended the hill, to behold the flame of Starno's tower
The flame was dim and diftant ; the moon hid her red face in the eaft. A blaft came from the mountain, on its wings was the ipirit of Loda. He came to his place in his terrors *, and fhook his dufky fpear. His eyes appear like flames in his dark face ; his voice is like diftant thunder, Fingal advanced his fpear in night, and raifed his voice on high.
Son of night, retire : call thy winds, and fly ! Why doft thou come to my prefence, with thy fhadowy arms ? Do I fear thy gloomy form, fpirit of difmal Loda ? 'Weak is thy fhield of clouds : feeble is that meteor, thy fword ! The blaft rolls them together ; and thou thyfelf art loft. Fly from my pre- fence, fon of night ! call thy winds and fly !
Doft thou force me from my place ? replied the hollow voice. The people bend before irie. I turn the battle in the field of the brave, I look on the nations, and they vanifh : my rioftrils pour the blaft of death. I come abroad on the winds : the tempefts are before my face. But my dwelling is calm, above the Clouds ; the fields of my reft are pleafant.
Dwell in thy pleafant fields, faid the king : Let Comhal's fon be forgot. Do my fteps afcend, from my hills, into thy peaceful plains ?
* He is defcribed, in a fiiiiile, in the poem concerning the death of Cuchullin.
Da
A P O £ M. ff
Do I meet thee, with a fpear, on thy cloud, Spirit of difmal Loda ? Why then doft thou frown on me ? why fhake thine airy fpear ? Thou frowneft in vain : I never fled from the mighty m war. And (hall the fons of the wind frighten the king of Morven ? No : he knows the weaknefe of their arms !
Fly to thy land, replied the form : receive the wind, and fly ! The blafts are in the hol- low of my hand ; the courfe of the ftorm is mine. The king of Sora is my fon, he bends at the (tone of my power. His battle is around Carric-thura ; and he will prevail ! Fly to thy land, fon of Comhal, or feel my flaming wrath i
He lifted high his fhadowy fpear ! He bent forward his dreadful height. Fingal, ad- vancing, drew his fword ; the blade of dark* brown Luno *. The gleaming path of the fleel winds through the gloomy ghoft. The form fell (hapelefs into air, like a column of fmoke, which the ftaff of the boy difturbs, as it rifes from the half- extinguished furnace.
The fpirit of Loda fhrieked, as, rolled into himfelf, he rofe on the wind. Iniftore Ihook at the found. The waves heard it on the deep. They flopped, in their courfe, with fear : the friends of Fingal ftarted, at once ; and took their heavy fpears. They miffed the king : they rofe in rage ; all their arms reibund !
* The famous fword of Fingal, made by Lun, or JLuno, a fmith of Lochlin.
E 4 The
S6 CARRIC-THURA:
The moon came forth in the eaft. Fingal returned in the gleam of his arms. The joy of his youth was great, their fouls fettled as a fea from a ftorm. Ullin raifed the fong of gladnefs. The hills of Iniftore rejoiced. The flame of the oak arofe ; and the tales of he- roes are told.
. But Frothal, Sora's wrathful king, fits in fadnefs beneath a tree. The hoft fpreads around Carric-thura. He looks towards the walls with rage. He longs for the blood of Cathulla, who, once, overcame him in war. "When Annir reigned * in Sora, the father of fea-borne Frothal, a ftorm arofe on the fea, and carried Frothal to Iniftore. Three days he feafted in Sarno's halls, and faw the flow rolling eyes of Comala. He loved her in the flame of youth, and ruihed to feize the white- armed maid. Cathulla met the chief. The gloomy battle rofe. Frothal was bound in the hall ; three days he pined alone. On the fourth, Samo lent him to his fhip, and he re- turned to his land. But wrath darkened in his foul againft the noble Cathulla. When Annir's ftone f of fame arofe, Frothal came in his ftrength. The battle burned round Carric- thura, and Sarno's moify wails.
* Annir was alfo the father of Erragon, who was king after the death of his brother Frothal. The death of Erragon is rhe fubject of the battle of Lorn, a poem in this collection.
f That is, after the death of Annir. To ere& the ftone of one's fame, was, in other words, to fay that the perlon was dead,
Morning
A P O E M. 57
Morning rofe on Iniftore. Frothal ftruck his dark-brown fhield. His chiefs ftarted at the found ; they flood, but their eyes were turned to the fea. They faw Fingal coming in his ftrength ; and firft the noble Thubar fpoke. " Who conies like the flag of the de- fert, with all his herd behind him ? Frothal, it is a foe ! I fee his forward fpear. Perhaps it is the king of Morven, Fingal the firft of men. His deeds are well known in Lochlin ! the blood of his foes is in Starno's halls. Shall I afk the peace * of kings ? His fword is the bolt cf heaven 1"
Son of the feeble hand, faid Frothal, fhall my days begin in a cloud ? Shall I yield before I have conquered, chief of ftreamy Tora ? The people would fay in Sora, Frothal flew forth like a meteor ; but a darknefs has met him ; and his fame is no more. No : Thubar, I will never yield ; my fame fhall furround me like light. No : I will never yield, chief of ftreamy Tora !
He went forth with the ftream of his peo- ple, but they met a rock : Fingal flood un- moved, broken they rolled back from his fide. Nor did they fafely fly ; the fpear of the king purfued their fteps. The field is covered with heroes. A riling hill preferved the foe.
Frothal faw their flight. The rage of his bofom rofe. He bent his eyes to the ground, and called the noble Thubar. Thubar ! my
* Honourable terms of peace.
people
58 CARRICTHURA:
people are fled. My famed has ceafed to arife. I will fight the king ; I feel my burn- ing foul ! Send a bard to demand the combat. Speak not againft Pretrial's words ! But, Thu- bar ! I love a maid ; me dwells by Thano's ftream, the white-bofomed daughter of Her- man, Utha with foft-rolling eyes. She feared the low-laid Comala ; her fecret fighs rofe, when I fpread the fail. Tell to Utha of harps, that my foul delighted in her.
Such were his words, refolved to fight. The foft figh of Utha was near ! She had followed her hero, in the armour of a man. She roiled her eye on the youth, in fecret, from beneath her fteel. She faw the bard as he went ; the fpear fell thrice from her hand ! Her loofe hair flew on the wind. Her white bread rofe, with iighs. She raifed her eyes to the king. She would fpeak, but thrice fjie failed.
Fingal heard the words of the bard ; he came in the ftrength of his fteel. They mixed their deathful fpears : They raifed the gleam of their arms. But the fword of Fingal de- fcended and cut Frothal's fhield in twain. His fair fide is expofed ; half bent he forefees his death. Darknefs gathered on Utha's foul. The tear roiled down her cheek. She rufhed to cover the chief with her fhield ; but a fallen oak met her fleps. She fell on her arm of fnow ; her fhield, her helmet flew wide. Her white bofom heaved to the fight ; her dark -brown hair is fpread on earth.
Fingal
A P O E M. 59
Fingal pitied the white-armed maid ! he flayed the uplifted fword. The tear was in the eye of the king, as, bending forward, he fpoke. " Kino; of ftreamy Sora ! fear not the fword of Fingal. It was never ftained with the blood of the vanquifhed ; it never pierced a fallen foe. Let thy people rejoice by the native ftreams. Let the maids of thy love be glad. Why moulded: thou fall in thy youth, king of ftreamy Sora ?" Frothal heard the words of Fingal, and faw the rifing maid : they * ftood in lilence, in their beauty : like two young trees of the plain, when the fhower of fpring is on their leaves, and the loud winds are laid.
Daughter of Herman, faid Frothal, didft thou come from Tora's ftreams ; didft thou come, in thy beauty, to behold thy warrior low ? But he was low before the mighty, maid of the flow-rolling eye 1 The feeble did not overcome the fon of car-borne Annir ! Ter- rible art thou, O king of Morven ! in battles of the fpear. But, in peace, thou art like the fun, when he looks through a filent fhower : the flowers lift their fair heads before him ; the gales fhake their ruftling wings. O that thou wert in Sora ! that my feaft were fpread ! The future kings of Sora would fee thy arms and rejoice. They would rejoice at the fame of their fathers, who beheld the mighty Fingal !
* Frothal and Utha.
Son
6o CARRIC-THURA:
Son of Annir, replied the king, the fame of Sora's race fhall be heard ! When chiefs are ftrong in war, then does the fong arife ! But if their f words are ftretched over the feeble ; if the blood of the weak has ftained their arms ; the bard fhall forget them in the fong, and their tombs fhall not be known. The ftranger fhall come and build there, and re- move the heaped-up earth. An half- worn fword fhall rife before him ; bending above it, he will fay u Thefe are the arms of the chiefs of old, but their names are not in fong." Come thou, O Frothal ! to the feaft of Iniftore ; let the maid of thy love be there ; let our faces brighten with joy !
Fingal took his fpear, moving in the fteps of his might. The gates of Carric-thura are opened wide. The feaft of fhells is fpread. The foft found of mufic arofe. Gladnefs brightened in the hall. The voice of Ullin was heard ; the harp of Selma was ftrung. Utha rejoiced in his prefence, and demanded the fong of grief; the big tear hung in her eye, when the foft Crimora * fpoke. Cri- mora the daughter of Rinval, who dwelt at Lotha's f roaring ftream ! The tale was long, but lovely ; and pleafed the blufhing Utha.
* There is a propriety in introducing this epifode, as the fituations of Crimora and Utha were fo fimilar.
f Lotha was the ancient name of one of the great rivers in the north of Scotland. The only one of them that (till retains a name of a like found is Lochy, in In- vernefsmire ; but whether it is the river mentioned here, the tranflator will not pretend to fay.
Crimora,
A P O E M. 6l
Crimora *.
"Who cometh from the hill, like a cloud tinged with the beam of the weft ? Whofe voice is that, loud as the wind, but pleafant as the harp of Carril "f* ? It is my love in the light of fteel ; but fad is his darkened brow ! Live the mighty race of Fingal ? or what darkens in Connal's foul J ?
Connal.
They live. They return from the chafe, like a ftream of light. The fun is on their fhields. Like a ridge of fire they defcend the hill. Loud is the voice of the youth ! the war, my love, is near! To-morrow the dread- ful Dargo comes to try the force of our race. The race of Fingal he defies ; the race of bat- tle and wounds !
Crimora.
Connal, I faw his fails like grey mift on the dark-brown wave. They ilowly came to
* Crimora, a ivoman of a great foul.
f Perhaps the Carril mentioned here is the fame with Carril the fon of Kinfena, Cuchullin's bard. The name itfelf is proper to any bard, as it fignifies a fprightly arid harmonious found.
% Connal, the fon of Diaran, was one of the mod fa- mous heroes of Fingal ; he was flain in a battle again ft Dargo a Briton ; but whether by the hand of the enemy, or that of his miftrefs, tradition does not determine.
land.
6z CAftRtC-THlTRA:
land. Connal, many are the warriors of Dargo !
Connal.
Bring me thy father's fhi eld, theboffy, iron fhield of Rinval ; that fhield like the full- orbed moon, whenfhe moves darkened through heaven*
Crimora.
That fhield I bring, O Connal ! but it did not defend my father. By the fpear of Gor- xnar he fell. Thou may'ft fall, O Connal I
Connal.
Fall I may ! but raife my tomb, Crimora ! Grey ftones, a mound of earth, fhall fend my name to other times. Bend thy red eye over my grave, beat thy mournful heaving breafL Though fair thou art, my love, as the light ; more pleafant than the gale of the hill ; yet I will not here remain. Raife my tomb, Crimora !
Crimora.
Then give me thofe arms that gleam ; that fword, and that fpear of fteel. I fhall meet Dargo with Connal, and aid him in the fight. Farewell, ye rocks of Ardven ! ye deer ! and ye ftreams of the hill ! We fhall return no more. Our tombs are diftant far !
" And
A POEM. 4$
" And did they return no more ?" faid tjtha's burfting figh. " Fell the mighty in battle, and did Crimora live ? Her fteps were lonely ; her foul was fad for Connal. Was he not young and lovely ; like the beam of the fetting fun ?" Ullin few the virgin's tear, he took the foftly- trembling harp : the fong was lovely, but fad, and fiience was in Carric- thnra.
Autumn is dark on the mountains ; grey mill reds on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. A tree ftands alone on the hill, and marks the flumbering Connal. The leaves whirl round with the wind, and ftrew the grave of the dead. At times are feen here the ghofts of the departed, when the mufmg hunter alone ftalks flovvly over the heath.
Who can reach the fource of thy race, 0 Connal I who recount thy fathers ? Thy fa- mily grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth the wind with its lofty head. But now it is torn from the earth. Who fhali fupply the place of Connal ? Here was the din of arms ; here the groans of the dying. Bloody are the wars of Fingal, O Connal ! it was here thou didft fall. Thine arm was like a ftorm ; thy fword a beam of the fky ; thy height, a rock on the plain ; thine eyes, a fur- nace of fire. Louder than a ftorm was thy •voice, in the battles of thy fteel. Warriors fell by thy fword, as the thiftle by the ftaff of
a boy,
9
<54 CARRIC-THURA:
a boy. Dargo the mighty came on, darkening In his rage. His brows were gathered into "wrath. His eyes like two caves in a rock. Bright rofe their fwords on each fide ; loud tvas the clang of their fteel.
The daughter of Rinval was near ; Cri- mora bright in the armour of man ; her yel- low hair is loofe behind, her bow is in her hand. She followed the youth to the war, Connal her much- beloved. She drew the firing on Dargo ; but erring fhe pierced her Connal. He falls like an oak on the plain; like a rock from the fhaggy hill. What fhall fhe do, haplefs maid ! He bleeds ; her Connal dies ! All the night long fhe cries, and all the day, " O Connal, my love, and my friend !" With grief the fad mourner dies ! Earth here inclofes the loveiieft pair on the hill. The grafs grows between the ftones of the tomb ; I often fit in the mournful made. The wind fighs through the grafs ; their memo/y rufhes on my mind. Undifturbed you now fleep together ; in the tomb of the mountain you reft alone !
And foft be their red:, faid Utha, haplefs children of dreamy Lotha ! I will remember them with tears, and my fecret fong fhall rife ; when the wind is in the groves of Tora, when the ftrearri is roaring near. Then fhall they come on my foul, with all their lovely grief!
Three days feafted the kings : on the fourth their white fails arofe. The winds of the north drove Fingal to Morven's woody- land.
But,
A P O E M. 6s
But the fpirit of Loda fat, in his cloud, behind the fhips of Frothal. He hung forward with all his blafts, and fpread the white-bofomed fails. The wounds of his form were not for- got 5 he ftill feared * the hand of the king 1
* The (lory of Fingal and the fpirit of Loda, fuppofed to be the famous Odin, is the mod extravagant fiction in all Oman's poems. It is not, however, without prece- dents in the beft poets ; and it mult be faid for Oman, that he fays nothing but what perfectly agreed with the notions of the times, concerning ghofts. They thought the fouls of the dead were material, and confequently fufceptible of pain. Whether a proof could be drawn from this paflage, that Oman had no notion of a divinity, I mail leave to others to determine : it appears, however, that he was of opinion, that fuperior beings ought to take no notice of what patted among men.
VOL. f.
C A R T H O N
POEM.
F 2
ARGUMENT.
This poem is complete, and the fubject of it, as of mofl: of Oman's compofitions, tragical. In the time of Comhal the fon of Trathal, and father of the celebrated Fingal, Clefsam- mor the fon of Thaddu and brother of Morna, Fingal's mo- ther, was driven by a ftorm into the river Clyde, on the banks of which ftood Balclutha, a town belonging to the Britons between the walls. He was hofpitably received by Reutha- mir, the principal man in the place, who gave him Moina his only daughter in marriage. Reuda, the fon of Cormo, a Briton who was in love with Moina, came to Reuthamir^s houfe, and behaved haughtily towards Clefsammor. A quar- rel enfued,. in which Reuda was killed ; the Britons* who at- tended him, prefled fo hard on Clefsammor, that he was obliged to throw himfelf into the Clyde, and fwim to his fliip. He hoifted fail, and the wind being favourable, bore him out to fea. He often endeavoured to return, and carry off his beloved Moina by night y but the wind continuing contrary, he was forced to defilt.
Moina, who had been left with child by her hufband, brought forth a Ion, and died foon after. — Reuthamir named the child Carthon, i. e. the murmur of waves, from the ftorm which carried off Clefsammor bis father, who was fuppofed to have been cad away. When Carthon was three years old, Comhal the father of Fingal, in one of his expeditions againft the Britons, took and burnt Balclutha. Reuthamir was killed in the attack : and Carthon was carried fafe away by his nurfe, who fled farther into the country of the Bri- tons. Carthon, coming to man's eftate, was refolved to re- venge the fall of Balclutha on ComhaPs pofterity. He fet fail from the Clyde, and falling on the coaft of Morven, de- feated two of Fingal's heroes, who came to oppofe his pro- grefs. He was, at laft, unwittingly killed by his father Clefs- ammor, in a Angle combat. This ftory is the foundation of the prefent poem* which opens on the night preceding the death of Carthon, fo that what pafled before is introduced by way of epifode. The poem is addreffed to Malvina the daughter of Tofcar.
C 69 3
C A R T H O N
POEM.
AT ale of the times of old! The deeds of days of other years ! The murmur of thy ftreams, O Lora ! brings back the memory of the paft. The found of thy woods, Garmallar, is lovely in mine ear, Doft thou not behold, Malvina, a rock with its head of heath ? Three aged pines bend from its face ; green is the narrow plain at its feet ; there the flower of the mountain grows, and makes its white head in the breeze. The thiftle is there alone, fhedding its aged beard. Two ftones, half funk in the ground, (hew their heads of mofs. The deer of the mountain avoids the place, for he beholds a dim ghoft (landing there *. The mighty lie, O Malvina ! in the narrow plain of the rock.
* It was the opinion of the times, that deer faw the gholts of the dead. To this day, when beafts fuddenly itart without any apparent caufe, the vulgar think that they fee the fpirits of the deceafed.
f 3 A tale
70 CARTHON:
A tale of the times of old ! the deeds of days of other years !
Who comes from the land of ftrangers, with his thoufands around him ? the fun-beam pours its bright ftream before him ; his hair meets the wind of his hills. His face is fet- tled from war. He is calm as the evening beam that looks from the cloud of the weft, on Cona's filent vale. Who is it but Comhal's fon *, the king of mighty deeds ! He beholds his hills with joy, he bids a thoufand voices rife. " Ye have fled over your fields, ye fons of the diftant land ! The king of the world fits in his hall, and hears of his people's flight. He lifts his red eye of pride ; he takes his father's fword. Ye have fled over your fields, fons of the diftant land !"
Such were the words of the bards, when they came to Selma's halls. A thoufand lights f from the ftranger's land rofe, in the midft of the people. The feaft is fpread around ; the night palled away in joy. Where is the noble Clefsammor J ? laid the fair-haired Fingal. Where is the brother of Morna, in the hour of my joy ? Sullen and dark he paries his days in the vale of echoing Lora : but, behold, he comes from the hill, like a
* Fingal returns here, from an expedition againft the Romans, which was celebrated by Oman in a poem called the fir if e of Crona.
■\ Probably wax-lights ; which are often mentioned as carried, among other booty, from the Roman province.
% Cleilamh mor, mighty deeds,
fteed
A P O E M. 71
fteed in his ftrength, who finds his companions in the breeze ; and tofles his bright mane in the wind. Bleft be the foul of Ciefsammor, why fo long from Selma ?
Returns the chief, faid Ciefsammor, in the midfl of his fame ? Such was the renown of Comhal in the battles of his youth. Often did we pafs over Carun to the land of the ftrangers : our fwords returned, not unftained with blood : nor did the kings of the world rejoice. Why do I remember the times of our war ? My hair is mixed with grey. My hand forgets to bend the bow : I lift a lighter fpear. O that my joy would return, as when I firft beheld the maid ; the white-bofomed daughter of ftrangers, Moina *, with the dark- blue eyes !
Tell, faid the mighty Fin gal, the tale of thy youthful days. Sorrow, like a cloud on the fun, fhades the foul of Ciefsammor. Mourn- ful are thy thoughts, alone, on the banks of the roaring Lora. Let us hear the forrow of thy youth and the darknefsof thy days !
" It was in the days of peace," replied the
ogreat Ciefsammor, " I came in my bounding
fhip, to Balclutha's "f* walls of towers. The
winds had roared behind my fails, and Clu-
* Moina, foft in temper and per fon. We find the Bri- tifli names in this poem derived from the Galic, which is a proof that the ancient language of the whole ifland was one and the fame.
\ Balclutha, /. e. the town of Clyde, probably the Alcluth of Bede.
F 4 tha's
72 CARTHON:
tha's * ftreams received my dark-bofomed Ihip. Three days I remained in Reuthamir's halls, and faw his daughter, that beam of light. The joy of the fhell went round, and the aged hero gave the fair. Her breads were like foam on the wave, and her eyes like flars of light : her hair was dark as the raven's wing : her foul was generous and mild. My love for Moina was great ; my heart poured forth in joy.
" The fon of a ftranger came ; a chief who loved the white-bofomed Moina. His words were mighty in the hall ; he often half-unfheathed his fword. " Where, faid he, is the mighty Comhal, the reftlefs wanderer + of the heath ? Comes he, with his hoft, to Balclutha, fince Clefsammor is fo bold ? My foul, I replied, O warrior ! burns in a light of its own. I ftand without fear in the midft of thoufands, though the valiant are diftant far. Stranger ! thy words are mighty, for Clefsam- mor is alone. But my fword trembles by my fide, and longs to glitter in my hand. Speak no more of Comhal, fon of the winding Clutha !"
* Cutha, or Cluath, the Galic name of the river Clyde ; the fignification of the word is bending, in allufion to the winding courfe of that river. From Clutha is dep- rived its Latin name, Glotta,
f The word in the original here rendered by reftlefs wanderer, is Scuta, which is the true origin of the Scoti of the Romans j an opprobrious name impofed by the Britons on the Caledonians, on account of the continual incurfions into their country.
•« The
A P O E M. 73
u The ftrength of his pride arofe. We fought ; he fell beneath my fword. The banks of Clutha heard his fall ; a thoufand fpears glittered around. I fought : the Grangers prevailed : I plunged into the ftream of Clu- tha. My white fails rofe over the waves, and I bounded on the dark-blue fea. Moina came to the fhore, and rolled the red eye of her tears : her loofe hair flew on the wind ; and I heard her mournful, diftant cries. Often did I turn my fhip ; but the winds of the EafT, prevailed. Nor Clutha ever fmce have I feen, nor Moina of the dark-brown hair. She fell in Balclutha,for I have feen her ghoft. I knew her as fhe came through the dufky night, along the murmur of Lora : fhe was like the new moon, feen through the gathered mift : when the iky pours down its flaky fnow, and the world is filent and dark.'*
Raife *, ye bards, faid the mighty Fingal, the praife of unhappy Moina. Call her ghoft, with your fongs, to our hills ; that fhe may reft with the fair of Morven, the fun-beams of other days, the delight of heroes of old. I have feen the walls of Balclutha, but they
* The title of this poem, in the original, is Duan na nlaoiy i, e. The Poem of the Hymns : probably on ac- count of its many digreflions from the fubjec~t, all which are in a lyric meafure, as this fong of Fingal. Fingal is celebrated by the Irifh hiitorians for his wifdom in mak- ing laws, his poetical genius, and his foreknowledge of events. O'Flaherty goes fo far as to fay, that Fingal's laws were extant in his own time.
were
74 CARTHON:
were defolate. The fire had refounded in the halls: and the voice of the people is heard no more. The ttream of Clutha was removed from its place, by the fall of the wails. The thiftle fhock, there, its lonely head : the rnofs whittled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows, the rank grafs of the wall waved round its head. Defolate is the dwelling of Moina, filence is in the houfe of her fa- thers. Raife the long of mourning, O bards ! over the land of ftrangers. They have but fallen before us : for, one day, we mutt fall. Why doft thou build the hall, fon of the winged days ? Thou lookett from thy towers to-day ; yet a few years, and the blaft of the defert comes ; it howls in thy empty court, and whittles round thy half-worn fhield. And let the blaft of the defert come ! we fhall be re- nowned in our day 1 The mark of my arm fhall be in battle ; my name in the fong of bards. Raife the fong ; fend round the fhell : let joy be heard in my hall. When thou, fun of heaven, fhalt fail 1 if thou malt fail, thou mighty light ! if thy brightnefs is for a fea- fon, like Fingal ; our fame fhall furvive thy beams !
Such was the fong of Fingal, in the day of his joy. His thoufand bards leaned forward from their feats, to hear the voice of the king. It was like the mufic of harps on the gale of the fpring. Lovely were thy thoughts, O Fingal ! why had not Cffian the ftrength of
thy
A P O E M. 75
thy foul ? But thou (landed alone, my father! who can equal the king of Sclma ?
The night pa (Ted away in long ; morning returned in joy. The mountains ihewed their grey heads ; the hlue face of ocean fmiled. The white wave is feen tumbling round the diftant rock ; a mid roie, (lowly, from the lake. Ir came, in the figure of an aged man, along the filent plain. Its large limbs did not move in fteps ; for a ghofl fupported it in mid-air. It came towards Selma's hall, and diflblved in a fhowerof blood.
The king alone beheld the fight ; he fore- fa w the death of the people. He came, in filence, to his hall ; and took his father's fpear. The mail rattled on his bread. The heroes rofe around. They looked, in iilence, on each other, marking the eyes of Fingal. They faw battle in his face ; the death of armies on his fpear. A thoufand ihields, at once, are placed on their arms ; they drew a thoufand iwords. The hall of Selma brightened around. The clang of arms afcends. Thq grey dogs howl in their place. No word is among the mighty chiefs. Each marked the eyes of the king ; and half a (Turned his fpear.
Sons of Morven, begun the king, this is no time to fill the (hell. The battle darkens near us; death hovers over the land. Some gholt, the friend of Fingal, has forewarned us or the foe. The fons of the ftrariger come from the darkly rolling fea. For, from the water, came the fign of Morven's gloomy
danger.
76 CARTHON:
danger. Let each affume his heavy fpear, each gird on his father's fword Let the dark helmet rife on every head ; the mail pour its lightning from every fide. The battle gathers like a ftorm ; foon fhall ye hear the roar of death.
The hero moved on before his hoft, like a cloud before a ridge of green fire ; when it pours on the iky of night, and mariners fore- fee a ftorm. On Cona's rifmg heath they flood : the white-bofomed maids beheld them above like a grove ; they forefaw the death of the youth, and looked towards the fea with fear. The white wave deceived them for diftant fails ; the tear is on their cheek ! The fun rofe on the fea, and we beheld a diftant fleet. Like the mift of ocean they came : and poured their youth upon the coaft. The chief was among them, like the flag in the midft of the herd. His fhield is ftudded with gold ; ftately ftrode the king of fpears. He moved towards Selma ; his thoufands moved behind.
Go, with a fong of peace, faid Fingal ; go, Ullin, to the king of fwords. Tell him that we are mighty in war ; that the ghofts of our foes are many. But renowned are they who have feafted in my halls ; they fhew the arms* of my fathers in a foreign land : the fons of
• It was a cuftom among the ancient Scots, to exchange arms with their guefts, and thofe arms were preferved Jong in the different families, as monuments of the friendv {hip which fubfiiled between their anteftorg.
the
A P O E M% 77
the ftrangers wonder, and blefs the friends of Morven's race ; for our names have been heard afar : the kings of the world ihook in the midft of their hoft.
Ullin went with his fong. Fingal refled on his fpear : he faw the mighty foe in his ar- mour : he bleft the ftranger's fon. " How ftately art thou, fon of the fea ! faid the king of woody Morven. Thy fword is a beam of fire by thy fide : thy fpear is a pine that defies the ftorm. The varied face of the moon is not broader than thy fhield. Ruddy is thy face of youth ! foft the ringlets of thy hair ! But this tree may fall ; and his memory be forgot ! The daughter of the ftranger will be fad, looking to the rolling fea : the children will fay, " We fee a fhip ; perhaps it is the king of Balclutha." The tear (tarts from their mother's eye. Her thoughts are of him who fleeps in Morven I"
Such were the wrords of the king, when Ullin came to the mighty Carthon i he threw down the fpear before him ; he raifed the fong of peace. " Come to the fea ft of Fingal, Carthon, from the rolling fea ! partake of the feaft of the king, or lift the fpear of war ! The ghofts of our foes are many : but re- nowned are the friends of Morven ! Behold that field, O Carthon ; many a green hill rifes there, with mofly ftones and ruftling grafs : thefe are the tombs of FingaFs foes, the fons of the rolling fea 1"
4 " Doft
?3 C A RTHON:
" Doft thou fpeak to the weak in arms !" faid Carthon, " bard of the woody Morven ? Is my face pale for fear, fon of the peaceful fong ? Why then doft thou think to darken my foul with the tales of thofe who fell ? My arm has fought in battle ; my renown is known afar. Go to the feeble in arms, bid them yield to Fingal. Have not I ieen the fallen Balclutha? And mall I feaft with Comhal's fon? Comhal ! who threw his lire in the midft of my father's hall ! I was young, and knew not the caufe, why the virgins wept. The co- lumns of fmoke pleafed mine eye, when they rofe above my walls ! I often looked back, with gladnefs, when my friends fled along the hill. But when the years of my youth came on, I beheld the mofs of my fallen walls : my figh arofe with the morning, and my tears de- fcended with night. Shall I not fight, I faid to my foul, againft the children of my foes ? And I will fight, O bard ! I feel the ftrength of my foul."
His people gathered around the hero, and drew, at once, their mining fwords. He (lands, in the midft, like a pillar of fire ; the tear half- ft ar ting from his eye ; for he thought of the fallen Balclutha ; the crowded pride of his foul arofe. Sidelong he looked up to the hill, where our heroes fhone in arms ; the fpear trembled in his hand : bending forward, he feemeu to threaten the king.
Shall I, faid ingal to his foul, meet, at once, the youth ? Snali I Hop him in the midft of
I his
A P O E INI. 79
his courfe, before his fame (hall ariie ? But the bard, hereafter, may lay, when he fees the tomb of Carthon ; Fingal took his thoufands to battle, before the noble Carthon fell. No : bard of the times to come ! thou fhalt not leffen Fingafs fame. My heroes will fight the youth, and Fingal behold the war. If he overcomes, I rufh, in my frrength, like the roaring fhream of Cona. Who, of my chiefs, will meet the ion of the roliing fea ? Many are his warriors on the coaft : and ftrong is his afhen fpear !
Cathul * rofe, in his ftrength, the fon of the mighty Lormar : three hundred youths at- tend the chief, the race f of his native ftreams. Feeble was his arm againft Carthon, he fell ; and his heroes fled. Connal t ref limed the battle, but he broke his heavy fpear : he lay bound on the field : Carthon purfued his people.
Clefsammor ! faid the king § of Morven, where is the fpear of thy ftrength ? Wilt thou behold Connal bound ; thy friend, at the ftream of Lora ? Rife, in the light of thy
* Cath-'huil, the eye of battle.
f It appears from this paflage, that clanfhip was efla~ blifhed, m the days of Fingal, though not on the fame footing with the preient tribes, in the north of Scotland.
\ This Connal is very much celebrated, in ancient poetry, for his wifdom and valour : there is a fmall tribe itill fubfifting, in the North, who pretend they are de- fended from him.
§ Fingal did not then know that Carthon was the fon oi Clefsammor.
fleel,
So CARTHON:
fteel, companion of valiant Comhal ! Let the youth of Balclutha feel the ftrength of Mor- ven's race. He rofe in the ftrength of his fteel, fhaking his griftly locks. He fitted the fhield to his fide ; he rufhed, in the pride of valour.
Carthon flood on a rock ; he faw the hero rufhing on. He loved the dreadful joy of his face : his ftrength, in the locks of age ! " Shall I lift that fpear, he faid, that never ftrikes, but once, a foe ? Or fhall I, with the words of peace, preferve the warrior's life i Stately are his fteps of age ! lovely the rem- nant of his years ! Perhaps it is the hufband of Moina ; the father of car-borne Carthon. Often have I heard, that he dwelt at the echo- ing ftream of Lora."
Such were his words, when Clefsammor came, and lifted high his fpear. The youth received it on his fhield, and fpoke the words of peace. " Warrior of the aged locks ! Is there no youth to lift the fpear ? Haft thou no fon to raife the fhield before his father to meet the arm of youth ? Is the fpoufe of thy love no more ? or weeps fhe over the tombs of thy fons? Art thou of the kings of men? What will be the fame of my fword fhould'ft thou fall V9
It will be great, thou fon of pride ! begun the tall Clefsammor. I have been renowned in battle ; but I never told my name * to a
foe.
• To tell one's name to an enemy was reckoned in thofe days of heroifm, a manifeft evafion of fighting
him:
A P O E M. Si
foe. Yield to me, fon of the wave, then malt thou know, that the mark of my fword is in many a field. " I never yielded, king of fpears ! replied the noble pride of Carthon : I have alio fought in war ; I behold my future fame. Defpife me not, thou chief of men ! my arm, my fpear is ftrong. Retire among thy friends, let younger heroes fight." Why doft thou wound my foul ? replied Clefsammor with a tear. Age does not trem- ble on my hand ; I ftill can lift the fword. Shall I fly in Fingal's fight ; in the fight of him I love ? Son of the fea ! I never fled : ex ilt thy pointed fpear.
They fought, like two contending winds, that ftrive to roll the wave. Carthon bade his fpear to err ; he ftill thought that the foe was the fpoufe of Moina. He broke Clefsam- mor's beamy fpear in twain : he feized his ihining fword. But as Carthon was binding the chief ; the chief drew the dagger of his fathers. He faw the foe's uncovered fide 5 and opened, there, a wound.
Fingal faw Clefsammor low : he moved in the found of his fteel. The hoft flood filent, in his prefence ; they turned their eyes to the king. He came, like the fullen noife of a ftorm, before the winds arife : the hunter
him : for if it was once known, that friendfhip fubfifted, of old, between the anceftors of the combatants, the battle immediately ceafed ; and the ancient amity of their forefathers was renewed. A man who tells his name to his enemy, was of old an ignominious term for a coward.
vol. i. g hears
Sa CARTHON:
hears it in the vale, and retires to the cave of the rock. Carthon flood in his place : the blood is rufhing down his fide : he faw the coming down of the king ; his hopes of fame arofe *; but pale was his cheek : his hair flew loofe, his helmet fhook on high : the force of Carthon failed ; but his foul was ftrong.
Fingal beheld the hero's blood ; he ftopt the uplifted fpear. " Yield, king of fwords ! faid Coronal's fon ; I behold thy blood. Thou haft been mighty in battle ; and thy fame fhall never fade." Art thou the king fo far renowned ? replied the car-borne Carthon. Art thou that light of death, that frightens the kings of the world ? But why mould Carthon afk ? for he is like the ftream of his hills ; ftrong as a river, in his courfe : fwift as the eagle of heaven. O that I had fought with the king ; that my fame might be great in fong ! that the hunter, beholding my tomb, might fay, he fought with the mighty Fingal. But Carthon dies unknown ; he has poured out his force on the weak.
But thou (halt not die unknown, replied the king of woody Morven : my bards are many, O Carthon ! Their fongs defcend to future times. The children of years to come fhall hear the fame of Carthon ; when they fit round the
* This expreflion admits of a double meaning, either that Carthon hoped to acquire glory by killing Fingal ; or to be rendered famous by falling by his hand. The laft is the moil probable, as Carthon is already wounded.
10 burning
A P O E M. 83
burning oak *, and the night is fpent in fongs of old. The hunter, fitting in the heath, fliall hear the ruftling blaft ; and, raifing his eyes, behold the rock where Carthon felL He mall turn to his fon, and mew the place where the mighty fought ; " There the king of Balclutha fought, like the ftrength of a thoufand ftreams."
Joy rofe in Carthon's face : he lifted his heavy eyes. He gave his fword to Fingal, to lie within his hall, that the memory of Balclu- tha's king might remain in Morven. The bat- tle ceafed along the field, the bard had fung the fong of peace. The chiefs gathered round the falling Carthon ; they heard his words with fighs. Silent they leaned on their fpears, while Balclutha's hero (poke. His hair lighed in the wind, and his voice was fad and low.
" King of Morven, Carthon faid> I fall in the midft of my courfe. A foreign tomb re- ceives, in youth, the laft of Reuthamir's race. Darknefs dwells in Balclutha : the fhadows of grief in Crathmo, But raife my remem- brance on the banks of Lora : where my fa- thers dwelt. Perhaps the hufband of JMoina will mourn over his fallen Carthon/' His words reached the heart of Clefsammor : he fell, in filence, on his fon. The hoft flood
* In the north of Scotland, till very lately, they burnt a large trunk of an oak at their feftivals ; it was called the trunk of the feajl. Time had fo much confecrated the cuftom, that the vulgar thought it a kind of facrilege to difufe it.
G 2 darkened
S4 CARTHON:
darkened around : no voice is on the plain. Night came, the moon, from the eaft, looked on the mournful field : but ftill they ftood, like a filent grove that lifts its head on Gor- mal, when the loud winds are laid, and dark autumn is on the plain.
Three days they mourned above Carthon ; on the fourth his father died. In the narrow plain of the rock they lie ; a dim ghoft de- fends their tomb. There lovely Moina is often feen ; when the fun- beam darts on the rock, and all around is dark. There fhe is feen, Malvina ! but not like the daughters of the hill. Her robes are from the ftranger's land ; and fhe is ftill alone !
Fingal was fad for Carthon ; he commanded his bards to mark the day, when fhadowy au- tumn returned : And often did they mark the day, and fing the hero's praife. " Who comes fo dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's fhadowy cloud ? Death is trembling in his hand ! his eyes are flames of fire ! Who roars along dark Lora's heath ? Who but Carthon, king of fwords ! The people fall ! fee ! how he flrides, like the fullen ghoft of Morven ! But there he lies a goodly oak, which fudden blafts overturned ! When {halt thou rife, Bal- clutha's joy? When, Carthon, malt thou arife ? Who comes fo dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's fhadowy cloud ?" Such were the words of the bards, in the day of their mourning : (Mian often joined their voice ; and added to their fong. My foul has been 9 mournful
A P O E M. 85
mournful for Carthon ; he fell in the clays of his youth : and thou, O Clefsammor ! where is thy dwelling in the wind ? Has the youth forgot his wound ? Flies he, on clouds, with thee ? I feel the fun, O Malvina ! leave me to my reft. Perhaps they may eome to my dreams ; I think I hear a feeble voice ! The beam of heaven delights to fhine on the grave of Carthon : I feel it warm around !
O thou that rolled: above, round as the fhield of my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O fun ! thy everlafting light ? Thou corned forth, in thy awful beauty ; the ftars hide themfelves in the fky ; the moon, cold and pale, finks in the weflern wave. But thou thy felf moved alone : who can be a companion of thy courfe ! The oaks of the mountains fall : the mountains themfelves decay with years ; the ocean fhrinks and grows again : the moon herfelf is loft in heaven ; but thou art for ever the fame ; rejoicing in the brightnefs of thy courfe. When the world is dark with tempefts ; when thunder rolls, and lightning flies ; thou lookeft in thy beauty, from the clouds, and laugheft at the florin. But to Offian, thou lookeft in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more ; whether thy yellow hair flows on the eaftern clouds, or thou trembleft at the gates of the weft. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a, feafon, thy years will have an end. Thou fhalt fleep in thy clouds, carelefs of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O fun ! in the flrength of thy youth !• Age is dark and un^ g 3 lovely 1
36 CARTHO N.
lovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon, when it mines through broken clouds, and the mift is on the hills ; the blaft of north is on the plain, the traveller fhrinks in the midft of his journey.
OINA-MORUL
POEM.
G 4
ARGUMENT,
After an addrefs to Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar, Offian proceeds to relate his own expedition to Fuarfed, an ifland of Scandinavia. Mal-orchol, king of Fuarfed, being hard preffed in war, by Ton-thormod, chief of Sar-dronlo, (who had demanded, in vain, the daughter of Mal-orchol in marriage), Fingal fent Offian to his aid. Offian, on the day after his arrival, came to battle with Ton-thormod, and took him prifoner. Mal-or- chol offers his daughter Oina-morul to Offian ; but hej, difcovering her paffion for Ton-thormod, generoufly furrenders her to her lover, and brings about a recon- ciliation between the two kings.
t 89 ]
OINA-MORULi
A
POEM.
As flies the unconftant fun, over Larmon's graffy hill ; fo pafs the tales of old, along my foul, by night ! when bards are removed to their place ; when harps are hung in Sel- ma's hall ; then comes a voice to Offian, and awakes his foul ! It is the voice of years that are gone ! they roll before me, with all their deeds ! I feize the tales, as they pafs, and pour them forth in fong. Nor a troubled ftream is the fong of the king, it is like the rifing of mufic from Lutha of the firings. Lutha of many firings, not filent are thy flreamy rocks, when the white hands of Mal- vina move upon the harp ! Light of the fha- dowy thoughts, that fly acrofs my foul, daugh- ter of Toicar of helmets, wilt thou not hear the fong ! We call back, maid of Lutha, the years that have rolled away !
It was in the days of the king, while yet my locks were young, that I marked Con- cathlin *, on high, from ocean's nightly wave.
My
* Con-cathlin, mild beam of the wave. What ftar was fo called of old is not eafily afcertained. Some now dif-
tinguifli
9o OINA.MORUL:
My courfe was towards the ifle of Fuarfed, woody dweller of feas ! Fingal had fent me to the aid of Mal-orchol, king of Fuarfed wild : for war was around him, and our fathers had met, at the feaft.
In Col-coiled, I bound my fails ; I fent my fword to Mal-orchol of fheils. He knew the fignal of Albion, and his joy arofe. He came from his own high hall, and feized my hand in grief. " Why comes the race of heroes to a falling king ? Ton-thormod of many (pears is the chief of wavy Sar-dronlo. He faw, and loved my daughter, white-bofomed Oina- morul. He fought ; I denied the maid ; for our fathers had been foes. He came, with battle, to Fuarfed ; my people are rolled away, "Why comes the race of heroes to a falling king ?"
I come not, I faid, to look, like a boy, on the ftrife. Fingal remembers Mal-orchol, and his hall for ltrangers. From his waves, the
tinguifh the pole-flar by that name. A fong, which Is ftill in repute, among the fea-faring part of the High- landers, alludes to this paflage of Oifian. The author commends the knowledge of Gilian in fea affairs, a merit,, which, perhaps, iew of us moderns will allow him, or any in the age in which he lived. One thing is certain, that the Caledonians often made their way through the dangerous and tempeftuous feas of Scandinavia ; which is more, perhaps, than the more poliihed nations, fubfift:-. ing in thofe times, dared to venture. In eftimating the degree of knowledge of arts among the ancients, we ought not to bring it into comparifon with the improve- ments of modern times. Our advantages over them proceed more from accident, than any merit of ours.
warrior
A P O E M. 91
warrior defcended, on thy woody ifle, Thou wert no cloud before him. Thy feaft was fpread with fongs. For this my iword fhall rife ; and thy foes perhaps may fail. Our friends are not forgot in their danger, though diftant is our land.
" Defcendant of the daring Trenmor, thy words are like the voice of Cruth-loda, when he fpeaks from his parting cloud, ftrong dwel- ler of the fky ! Many have rejoiced at my feaft ; but they all have forgot Mal-orchol. I have looked towards all the winds ; but no white fails were feen. But fteel * refounds in my hall ; and not the joyful fhells. Come to my dwelling, race of heroes ! dark-fkirted night is near. Hear the voice of fongs, from the maid of Fuarfed wild."
* There is a fevere fatire couched in this expreflion, againft the guefls of Mal-orchol. Had his feaft been {till fpread, had joy continued in his hall, his former pa- rafites would not have failed to refort to him. But as the time of feftivity was pail, their attendance alfo ceafed. The fentiments of a certain old bard are agreeable to this obfervation. He, poetically, compares a great man to a fire kindled in a defert place. " Thofe that pay court to him, fays he, are rolling large around him, like the fmoke about the lire. This fmoke gives the fire a great appear- ance at a diftance, but it is but an empty vapour itfelf, and varying its form at every breeze. When the trunk, which fed the fire, is con fumed, the fmoke departs on all the winds. So the flatterers forfake their chief, when his power declines." I have chofen to give a paraphrafe, rather than a tranflation, of this paflage, as the original is verbofe and frothy, notwithflanding the fentimental me- rit of the author. He was one of the lefs ancient bards, and their compofitions are not nervous enough to bear a literal tranflation.
We
92 OINA-MORUL:
We went. On the harp arofe the white hands of Oina-morul. She waked her own fad tale, from every trembling firing. I flood in filence ; for bright in her locks was the daugh- ter of many ifles ! Her eyes were two ftars, looking forward through a rufhing fhower. The manner marks them on high, and blefles the lovely beams. With morning we rufhed to battle, to Tormul's refounding ftream : the foe moved to the found of Ton-thormod's bofly fhield. From wing to wing the ftrife was mixed. I met Ton-thormod in fight, Wide flew his broken fteel. I feized the king in war. I gave his hand, bound faft with thongs, to Mal-orchol, the giver of fhells. Joy rofe at the feaft of Fuarfed, for the foe had failed. Ton-thormod turned his face away, from Oina- morul of ifles ?
Son of Fingal, begun Mal-orchol, not for- got fhalt thou pafs from me. A light fhall dwell in thy {hip, Oina-morul of flow-rolling eyes. She fhall kindle gladnefs along thy mighty foul. Nor unheeded fhall the maid move in Selma, through the dwelling of kings !
In the hall I lay in night. Mine eyes were half-clofed in fleep. Soft mufic came to mine ear : It was like the rifing breeze, that whirls* at firfl, the thiftle's beard ; then flies, dark- fhadowy, over the grafs. It was the maid of Fuarfed wild ! fhe raifed the nightly fong ; fhe knew that my foul was a ftream, that flowed at pleafant founds. " Who looks," fhe faid*
" from
A P O E M. 93
" from his rock, on ocean's clofing mift ? his long locks, like the raven's wing, are wander- ing on the blaft. Stately are his fteps in grief ! The tears are in his eyes ! His manly bread is heaving over his burfting foul ! Retire, I am diftant far; a wanderer in lands unknown. Though the race of kings are around me, yet my foul is dark. Why have our fathers been foes, Ton-thormod love of maids !"
u Soft voice of the ftreamy ifle." I faid, " why doft thou mourn by night ? The race of daring Trenmor are not the dark in foul. Thou fhalt not wander, by ftreams unknown, blue-eyed Oina-morul ! Within this bofom is a voice ; it comes not to other ears : it bids OfTian hear the haplefs, in their hour of woe. Retire, foft finger by night ! Ton-thormod {hall not mourn on his rock !"
With morning I loofed the king. I gave the long-haired maid. Mal-orchol heard my words, in the midft of his echoing halls. " King of Fuarfed wild, why fhould Ton- thormod mourn ? He is of the race of heroes, and a flame in war. Your fathers have been foes, but now their dim ghofts rejoice in death. They ftretch their hands of mift to the fame fhell in Loda. Forget their rage, ye warriors ! it was the cloud of other years."
Such were the deeds of (Mian, while yet his locks were young : though lovelinefs, with a robe of beams, clothed the daughter of many ifles. We call back, maid of Lutha, the years that have rolled awav !
COLNA-DONA
POEM.
ARGUMENT,
Fingal difpatches Offian and Tofcar, the fon of Con- loch and father of Malvina, to raife a ftone on the banks of the flream of Crona, t© perpetuate the me- mory of a victory, which he had obtained in that place. "When they were employed in that work, Car-ul, a neighbouring chief, invited them to a feaft. They went : and Tofcar fell defperately in love with Colna-dona, the daughter of Car-ul. Colna-dona be- came no lefs enamoured of Tofcar. An incident, at a hunting party, brings their loves to a happy iflue.
t 97 3
COLNA-DONA
OEM.
inOL-AMON * of troubled flreams, dark wan- ^^ derer of diftant vales, I behold thy courfe between trees, near Car-ul's echoing halls ! There dwelt bright Colna-dona, the daughter of the king. Her eyes were rolling (tars ; her arms were white as the foam of ftreams. Her breaft rofe (lowly to fight, like ocean's heaving wave. Her foul was a dream of light. Who, among the maids, was like the love of heroes ?
* Colna-dona fignifies the love cf heroes. Col-amon, «/zr- row river. Car-ul, dark eyed, Col-amon, the refidence of Car-ul, was in the neighbourhood of Agricola'* wall, to- wards the fouth. Car-ul feems to have been of the race of thofe Britons, who are diftinguiihed by the name of Maiatre, by the writers of Rome. Maiatse is derived from two Galic words, Moi, a plain, and Aitich, inhabitants ; fo that the fignification of Maiatse is, the inhabitants of the plain country ; a name given to the Britons, who were fet- tled in the Lowlands, in contradiftinclion to the Caledo- nians (i. e) Cael-Don, the Gauls of the hills)^ who were poffefled of the more mountainous divifion of- North- Britain.
vol. i. h Beneath
98 COLNA-DGNA:
Beneath the voice of the king, we moved to Crona * of the ftreams, Tofcar of graffy Lutha, and Offian, young in fields. Three bards attended with fongs. Three boffy fhields were borne before us : for we were to rear the ftone, in memory of the paft. By Crona's mofiy courfe, Fingal had fcattered his foes : he had rolled away the ftrangers, like a troubled fea. We came to the place of renown : from the mountains defcended night. I tore an oak from its hill, and railed a flame on high. I bade my fathers to look down, from the clouds of their hall ; for, at the fame of their race, they brighten in the wind.
I took a ftone from the dream, amid ft the fong of bards. The blood of Fingal's foes hung curdled in its ooze. Beneath, I placed, at intervals, three bofles from the fhields of foes, as rofe or fell the found of Ullin's nightly fong. Tofcar laid a dagger in earth, a mail of founding fteel. We raifed the mould around the ftone, and bade it fpeak to other years.
* Crona, murmuring, was the name of a fmall ilrearn, which difcharged itfelf in the river Carron. It is often mentioned by Offian, and the feenes of many of his poems are on its banks. The enemies whom Fingal de- feated here, are not mentioned. They were, probably, the provincial Britons. That tract of country between the Friths of Forth and Clyde has been, through all anti- quity, famous for battles and rencounters between the dif- ferent nations, who were poflefled of North and South Britain. Stirling, a town fituated there, derives its name from that very circumftance. It is a corruption of the •Galic name, Strila, i. e* the hilly ir reck, of contention.
Oozy
POEM.
99
Oozy daughter of ftreams, that now art reared on high, fpeak to the feeble, O ftone ! after Selma's race have failed ! Prone, from the ftormy night, the traveller (hall lay him, by thy iide : thy whittling mofs fhall found in his dreams ; the years that were pad fhall re- turn. Battles life before him, blue-fhielde'd kings defcend to war : the darkened moon looks from heaven on the troubled field. He fhall burft, with morning, from dreams, and fee the tombs of warriors round. He fhall afk about the ftone, and the aged fhall reply, " This grey ilone was raifed by Offian, a chief of other years !"
From * Gol-amon came a bard, from Car> ul, the friend of ftrangers. He bade us to the featt of kings, to the dwelling of bright Colna-dona. We went to the hall of harps.
* The manners of the Britons and Caledonians were fo fimilar in the days of Offian, that there can be no doubt, that they were originally the fame people, and de- scended from thofe Gauls who fir ft poflcfTed themfelves of South Britain, and gradually migrated to the North. This hypothec's is more rational than the idle fables of ill-formed fenaehies, who bring the Caledonians from diftant countries. The bare opinion of Tacitus (which, by-the-bye, was only founded on a (imilarity of the per- fonal figure of the Caledonians to the Germans of his own time), though it has daggered fome learned men, is not fufficient to make us believe, that the ancient inhabi- tants of North Britain were a German colony. A dif- cuffion of a point like this might be curious, but could never be fatisfaclory. Periods i'o diftant are fo involved in obfcurity, that nothing certain can be now advanced concerning them. The light which the Roman writers hold forth is too feeble to guide us to the truth, through the darknefs which has furrounded it.
H 2 There
ico COLNA-DONA:
There Car-uJ brightened between his aged locks, when he beheld the fons of his friends, like two young branches before him.
" Sons of the mighty," he faid, " ye bring back the days of old, when firft I defcended from waves, on Selma's ftreamy vale ! I pur- fued Duthmocarglos, dweller of ocean's wind. Our fathers had been foes, we met by Clutha's winding waters. He fled, along the fea, and my fails were fpread behind him. Night de- ceived me, on the deep. I came to the dwel- ling of kings, to Selma of high-bofomed maids. Fingal came forth with his bards, and Con- loch, arm of death. I feafted three days in the hall, and faw the blue eyes of Erin, Rof- crana, daughter of heroes, light of Cormac's race. Nor forgot did my fteps depart : the kings gave their fhields to Car-ul : they hang, on high, in Col-amon, in memory of the paft. Sons of the daring kings, ye bring back the days of old !"
Car-ul kindled the oak of feafts. He took two boffes from our mields. He laid them in earth, beneath a ftone, to fpeak to the hero's race. " When battle," faid the king, " lhall roar, and our fons are to meet in wrath. My race mall look, perhaps, on this ftone, when they prepare the fpear. Have not our fathers met in peace, they will fay, and lay afide the fhield ?"
Night came down. In her long locks moved the daughter of Car-ul. Mixed with the harp arofe the voice of white-armed Col-
3 na-dona.
A P O E M. ici
na-dona. Tofcar darkened in his place, be- fore the love of heroes. She came on his troubled foul, like a beam to the dark-heaving ocean : when it burfts from a cloud, and brightens the foamy fide of a wave f.
"# * * * * * %
With morning we awaked the woods ; and hung forward on the path of the roes. They fell by their wonted itreams. We returned through Crona's vale. From the wood a youth came forward, wTith a fhield and pointlefs fpear. " Whence," faid Tofcar of Lutha, " is the flying beam ? Dwells there peace at Col- anion round bright Colna-dona of harps r"
" By Col-amon of ftreams," laid the youth, <c bright Colna-dona dwelt. She dwelt ; but her courfe is now in deferts, with the fon of the king ; he that feized with love her foul as it wandered through the hall." " Stranger of tales," faid Tofcar, " haft thou marked the warrior's courfe ? He mud fall, give thou that boffy fhield." In wrath he took the fhield. Fair behind it role the breafts of a maid, white as the bofom of a fwan, riling graceful on fwift-rolling waves. It was Colna-dona of harps, the daughter of the king ! Her blue eyes had rolled on Tofcar, and her love arofe !
f Here an epiiode is entirely loft ; or, at leaft, is handed down fo •imperfectly'; that it does not defervc a place in the poem.
H 3
O I T H O N A
POEM.
h 4
ARGUMENT,
Gaul, the fon of Morni, attended Lathmon into his own country, after his being defeated in Morven, as related in the preceding poem. He was kindly entertained by Nu'dth, the father of Lathmon, and fell in love with his daughter Oithona. The lady was no lefs ena- moured of Gaul, and a day was fixed for their mar- riage. In the mean time Fingal, preparing for an ex- pedition into the country of the Britons, fent for Gaul. He obeyed, and went ; but not without promifing to Oithona to return, if he furvived the war, by a certain day. Lathmon too was obliged to attend his father Nuath in his wars, and Oithona was left alone at Dun« lathmon, the feat of the family. Dunrommath, lord of Uthal, fuppofed to be one of the Orkneys, taking advantage of the abfence of her friends, came, and carried off, by force, Oithona, who had formerly re- jected his love, into Tromathon, a defert ifland, where He concealed her in a cave.
Gaul returned on the day appointed ; heard of the rape, and failed to Tromathon, to revenge himfelf on Dunrommath. When he landed, he found Oithona difcon folate, and refolved not to furvive the lofs of her honour. She told him the ftory of her misfortunes, and fhe fcarce ended, when Dunrommath, with his followers, appeared at the further end of the ifland. Gaul prepared to attack him, recommending to Oithona to retire, till the battle was over. She feemingly obeyed ; but (lie fecretly armed herfelf, rufhed into the thickeit of the battle, and was mortally wounded. Gaul purfuing the flying enemy, found her juft expiring on the field : he mourned over her, raifed her tombs and returned to Morven. Thus is the ftory handed clown by tradition ; nor is it given with any material difference in the poem, which opens with Gaul's re* turn to Dunlathmon, after the rape of Oithona.
C ios 3
O I T H O N A i
OEM,
Darkness dwells around Dunlathmon, though the moon fhews half her race on the hill. The daughter of night turns her eyes away ; fhe beholds the approaching grief. The fon of Morni is on the plain : There is no found in the hall. No long-ftreaming beam of light comes trembling through the gloom. The voice of Oithona* is not heard amidft the noife of the ftreams of Duvranna, <c Whither art thou gone in thy beauty, dark- haired daughter of Nuath ? Lathmon is in the field of the valiant, but thou didft promife to remain in the hall till the fon of Morni re- turned. Till he returned from Strumon, to the maid of his love ! The tear was on thy cheek at his departure ; the figh rofe in fecret in thy breaft. But thou doft not come forth with fongs, with the lightly-trembling found of the harp T5
* Oi-thona, the virgin, of the wave.
Such
io6 OITHONA:
Such were the words of Gaul, when he came to Dunlathmon's towers. The gates were open and dark. The winds were blufter- ing in the hall. The trees flrowed tne threfhold with leaves ; the murmur of night was abroad. Sad and filent, at a rock, the fon of Momi fat : his foul trembled for the maid ; but he knew not whither to turn his courfe ! The fon * of Leth ftood at a diftance, and heard the winds of his bufliy hair. But he did not raife his voice, for he faw the forrow of Gaul !
Sleep defcended on the chiefs. The vifions of night arofe. Oithona ftood, in a dream# before the eyes of Morni's fon. Her hair was loofe and difordered : her lovely eye rolled deep in tears. Blood flamed her fnowy arm. The robe half hid the wound of her breaft. She ftood over the chief, and her voice was feebly heard. " Sleeps the fon of Morni, he that wras lovely in the eyes of Oithona ? Sleeps Gaul at the diftant rock, and the daughter of Nuath low ? The fea rolls round the dark ifle of Tromathon. I fit in my tears in the cave ! Nor do I fit alone, O Gaul ! the dark chief of Cuthal is there. He is there in the rage of his love. What can Oithona do ?"
A rougher blaft ruined through the oak. The dream of night dep^rt^d, Gaul took his afpen fpear. He ftood in the rage of his foul.
* Morlo, the fon of Leth, is one of Fingal's mod fa- mous heroes. He and three other men attended Gaul on his expedition to Tromathon.
Often
A P O E M. 107
Often did his eyes turn to the eaft. He ac- cused the lagging light. At length the morn- ing came forth. The hero lifted up the fail. The winds came ruftling from the hill ; he bounded on the waves of the deep. On the third day arofe Tromaihon*, like a blue lhield in the midft of the lea. The white wave roared againft its rocks ; fad Oithona fat on the coait ! She looked on the rolling: waters. and her tears came down. But when fhe faw Gaul in his arms, fhe flatted, and turned her eyes away. Her lovely cheek is bent and red ; her white arm trembles by her fide. Thrice fhe drove to fly from his prefence ; thrice her fleps failed as fhe went !
" Daughter of Nuath," faid the hero, " why doit thou fly from Gaul ? Do my eyes fend forth the flame of death ? Darkens hatred in my foul ? Thou art to me the beam of the earl, riling in a land unknown. But thou co- vered: thy face with fadnefs, daughter of car- borne Nuath ! Is the foe of Oithona near ? My foul burns to meet him in fight. The fword trembles by the fide of Gaul, and longs to glitter in his hand. Speak, daughter of Nuath ! Doff thou not behold my tears ?"
" Young chief of Srrumon," replied the maid, |l why comefl thou over the dark- blue wave, to Nuath's mournful daughter ? Why did I not pafs away in fecret, like the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head unfeen, and
b Trom-thon, heavy or deep-founding wave.
ft row$
job OITHONA:
flrows its withered leaves on the blaft ? Why didft thou come, O Gaul ! to hear my depart- ing figh ? I vanifh in my youth ; my name fhall not be heard. Or it will be heard with grief; the tears of Nuath muft fall. Thou wilt be fad, fon of Morni ! for the departed fame of Oithona. But fhe fhall fleep in the narrow tomb, far from the voice of the mourner. Why didft thou come, chief of Strumon i to the lea-beat rocks of Trorrui- tnon ?
" I came to meet thy foes, daughter of car- borne Nuiith ! The death of Cuthal's chief darkens before me ; or Morni's fon fhall fall ! Oithona ! when Gaul is low, raife my tomb on that oozy rock. When the dark-bounding ihip mall pafs, call the fons of the fea ! call them, and give this fword, to bear it hence to Morni's hail. The grey-haired chief will then ceafe to look towards the defert for the return, of his fon !"
" Shall the daughter of Nuath live ?" fhe replied with a burfting figh. C5' Shall I live in Tromathon, and the fon of Morni low ? My heart is not of that rock ; nor my foul care- lefs as that fea ; which lifts its blue waves to every wind, and rolls beneath the ftorm ! The blaft which fhall lay thee low, fhall fpread the branches of Oithona on earth. We fhall wither together, fon of car-borne Morni ! The narrow houfe is pleafant to me, and the grey ftone of the dead : for never more will I Jeave thy rocks, O fta-iurrounded Troma- thon !
P O E M.
ICi)
thon ! Night * came on with her clouds, after the departure of Lathmon, when he went to the wars of his fathers, to the mofs- covered rock of Duthormoth. Night came en. I fat in the hall, at the beam of the oak ! The wind was abroad in the trees. I heard the found of arms. Joy rofe in my face. I thought of thy return. It was the chief of Cuthal, the red-haired ftrength of Dunrommath. His eyes rolled in fire : the blood of my people was on his fword. They who defended Oi- thona fell by the gloomy chief ! What could I do ? My arm was weak. I could not lift the fpear. He took me in my grief, amidft my tears he raifed the fail. He feared the re- turning Lathmon, the brother of unhappy Oithona ! But behold he comes with his peo- ple ! the dark wave is divided before him ? Whither wilt thou turn thy fteps, fon of Morni? Many are the warriors of thy foe !"
" My fteps never turned from battle," Gaul faid, and unfheathed his fword. " Shall I then begin to fear, Oithona ! when thy foes are near ? Go to thy cave, my love, till our battle ceafe on the field. Son of Leth, bring the bows of our fathers ! the founding quiver of Morni ! Let our three warriors bend the yew, Ourfelves will lift the fpear. They are an holt on the rock ! our fouls are ftrong in war 8"
Oithona went to the cave. A troubled jov rofe on her mind, like the red path of light-
* Oithona relates how (he was carried away by Dun- jrommath.
ning
ii6 OITHONA:
nino: on a flormy cloud ! Her foul was re- folved ; the tear was dried from her wildly- looking eye. Dunronimath flowly approached. He faw the ion of Morni. Contempt con- tracted his face, a fmi'e is on his dark-brown cheek ; his red eve rolled, half- concealed be- neath his maogy brows !
" Whence are the ions of the fea ?" begun the gloomy chief. " Have the winds driven you on the rocks of Tromathon ? Or come you in feafch of the white handed maid ? The fons of the unhappy, ye feeble men, come to the hand of Dunrommath ! His eye fpares not the weak ; he delights in the blood of ftrangers. Oithona is a beam of light, and the chief of Cuthal enjoys it in iecret ; wouldft thou come on its lovelinefs, like a cloud, [on of the feeble hand ! Thou mayil come, but fhak thou return to the hails of thy fathers V* <c Doft thou not know me," faid Gaul," red- haired chief of Cuthal ? Thy feet were fwift on the heath, in the battle of car-borne Lath- in on ; when the fword of Morni's ion purfued his hoft, in Morven's woody land. Dunrom- math ! thy words are mighty, for thy warriors gather behind thee. But do I fear them, fon of pride ? I am not of the race of the feeble V
Gaul advanced in his arms ; Dunrommath fhrunk behind his people. But the fpear of Gaul pierced the gloomy chief; his fword lopped off his head, as it bended in death. The fon of Morni (hock it thrice by the lock ; the warriors of Dunrommath fled. The ar- rows
A P O E M. iu
rows of Morven purfued them : ten fell on the moffy rocks. The reft lift the founding fail, and hound on the troubled deep. Gaul advanced towards the cave of Oithona. He beheld a youth leaning on a rock. An arrow had pierced his fide ; his eye rolled faintly be- neath his helmet. The foul of Morni's fon was fad, he came and fpoke the words of peace.
" Can the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the mournful brow ? I have fearched for the herbs of the mountains ; I have gathered them on the fecret banks of their ftreams. Mv hand has clofed the wound of the brave, their eyes have blefled the fon of Morni. Where dwelt thy fathers, warrior ? Were they of the fons of the mighty ? Sadnefs mail come, like night, on thy native fireams. Thou art fill 1 en in thy youth 1"
" My fathers," replied the ftranger, " were of the race of the mighty ; but they fhall not be fad ; for my fame is departed like morning mift. High walls rife on the banks of Duv- ranna ; and fee their moffy towers in the ftream ; a rock afcends behind them with its bending pines. Thou may ft behold it far diiiant. There my brother dwells. He is renowned in battle : give him this glittering helm."
The helmet fell from the hand of Gaul. It was the wounded Oithona ! She had armed herfelf in the cave, and came in fcarch of death. Her heavy eyes are half clofed ; the
blood
ji2 O I T H o n a;
blood pours from her heaving fide. " Son of Morni !" fhe faid, " prepare the narrow tomb. Sleep grows, like darknefs, on my foul. The eyes of Oithona are dim ! O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the bright beam of my fame ! then had my years come on with joy ; the virgins would then blefs my fteps. But I fall in youth, fon of Morni ! my father fhall blufh in his hall !"
She fell pale on the rock of Tromathon. The mournful warrior raifed her tomb. He came to Morven ; we faw the darknefs of his foul. Offian took the harp in the praife of Oithona. The brightnefs of the face of Gaul returned. But his figh rofe, at times, in the midft of his friends ; like blafts that fhake their unfrequent wings, after the ftormy winds are laid !
€ R O M A
POEM.
VOL. I.
ARGUMENT.
Malvina the daughter of Tofcar is overheard by Oflian lamenting the death of Ofcar her lover. Oman, to di- vert her grief, relates his own actions in an expedition which he undertook, at Fingal's command, to aid Cro- thar the petty king of Croma, a country in Ireland, againft Rothmar who invaded his dominions. The ftory is delivered down thus in tradition. Crothar king of Croma, being blind with age, and his fon too young for the field, Rothmar the chief of Tromlo refolved to avail himfelf of the opportunity offered of annexing the dominions of Crothar to his own. He accordingly marched into the country fubjeel: to Crothar, but which he held of Arth or Artho, who was, at the time, fu- preme king of Ireland.
Crothar being, on account of his age and blindnefs, unfit for action, fent for aid to Fingal king of Scot- land ; who ordered his fon Oman to the relief of Cro- thar. But before his arrival Fovargormo, the fon of Crothar, attacking Rothmar, was {lain himfelf, and his forces totally defeated. Oflian renewed the war ; came to battle, killed Rothmar, and routed his army. Croma being thus delivered of its enemies, Oflian returned to Scotland.
[ H5 1
ROMA
•I
POEM.
T was the voice of my love ! feldom art thou in the dreams of Malvina ! Open your airy halls, O fathers of Tofcar of fhields ! Unfold the gates of your clouds : the fteps of Malvina are near. I have heard a voice in my dream. I feel the fluttering of my foul. Why didft thou come, O blaft ! from the dark- rolling face of the lake ? Thy ruftling wing was in the tree ; the dream of Malvina fled. But (he beheld her love, when his robe of mid flew on the wind. A fun-beam was on his fkirts, they glittered like the gold of the ftranger. It was the voice of my love I fel- dom comes he to my dreams I"
" But thou dwelled in the foul of Malvina, fon of mighty Oflian ! My fighs arife with the beam of the eaft ; my tears defcend with the drops of night. I was a lovely tree, in thy prefence, Ofcar, with all my branches round me ; but thy death came like a blafb from the
i 2 defert,
1x6 C R O M A •
defert, and laid my green head low. The fpring returned with its mowers ; no leaf of mine arofe ! The virgins faw me filent in the hall ; they touched the harp of joy. The tear was on the cheek of Malvina : the virgins be- held me in my grief. Why art thou fad ? they laid ; thou firft of the maids of Lutha ! Was he lovely as the beam of the morning, and ftately in thy fight ?"
Pleafant is thy fong in Oflian's ear, daughter of ftreamy Lutha ! Thou haft heard the mufic of departed bard3 in the dream of thy reft, when fleep fell on thine eyes, at the murmur of Moruth *; When thou didft return from the chafe, in the day of the fun, thou haft heard the mufic of bards, and thy fong is lovely ! it is lovely, O Malvina ! but it melts the foul. There is a joy in grief when peace dwells in the bread of the fad. But forrow waftes the mournful, O daughter of Tofcar ! and their days are few ! They fall away, like the flower on which the fun hath looked in his ftrength after the mildew has paffed over it, when its head is heavy with the drops of night. Attend to the tale of Offian, O maid ! He remembers the days of his youth !
The king commanded ; I raifed my fails, and rufhed into the bay of Croma ; into Cro- ma*s founding bay in lovely Inisfail f . High on the coaft arofe the towers of Crothar king
* Mor'-ruth, great J} ream,
f Inisfail) one of the ancient names of Ireland.
of
A P O E M. 117
of fpears ; Crothar renowned in the battles of his youth ; but age dwelt then around the chief* Roth mar had railed the fword againft the hero ; and the wrath of Fingal burned. He fent Offian to meet Rothmar in war, for the chief of Croma was the friend of his youth. I fent th€ bard before me with fongs. I came into the hall of Crothar. There fat the chief amidft the arms of his fathers, but his eyes had failed. His grey locks waved around a ftaff, on which the warrior leaned. He hum- med the fong of other times, when the found of our arms reached his ears. Crothar rofe, ftretched his aged hand, and bleffed the fon of Fingal.
" Offian f faid the hero, " the ftrength of Crothar's arm has failed. O could I lift the fword, as on the day that Fingal fought at Strutha ! He was the firft of men 1 but Cro- thar had alfo his fame. The king of Morven praifed me ; he placed on my arm the boffy fhield of Calthar, whom the king had flain in his wars. Doft thou not behold it on the wall ? for Crothar' s eyes have failed. Is thy ftrength like thy fathers, Offian ? let the aged feel thine arm !"
I gave my arm to the king ; he felt it with his aged hands. The ligh rofe in his bread, and his tears came down. " Thou art ftrong, my fon, he faid, but not like the king of Mor- ven ! But who is like the hero among the mighty in war ? Let the feaft of my hall be fpread 3 and let my bards exalt the fong. Great
1 3 is
n8 C R O M A:
is he that is within my walls, ye fons of echo- ing Croma !" The feaft is fpread. The harp is heard ; and joy is in the hah1. But it was joy covering a figh, that darkly dwelt in every breaft. It was like the faint beam of the moon fpread on a cloud in heaven. At length the mufic ceafed, and the aged king of Croma fpoke ; he fpoke without a tear, but forrow fwelled in the midft of his voice.
" Son cf Fingal ! behold'ft thou not the darknefs of Crothar's joy ? My foul was not fad at the feaft, when my people lived before me, I rejoiced in the prefence of ftrangers, when my fen ihone in the hall. But, Oflian, he is a beam that is departed. He left no ilreak of light behind. He is fallen, fon of Fingal ! in the wars of his father. Rothmar the chief of graffy Tromlo heard that thefe eyes had failed ; he heard that my arms were fixed in the hall, and the pride of his foul arofe ! Ke came towards Croma ; my people fell before him. I took my arms in my wrath, but what could fightlefs Crothar do ? My fteps were unequal ; my grief was great. I wifhed for the days that were paft. Days ! wherein I fought ; and won in the field of blood. My fon returned from the chafe ; the fair- haired Fovar-gormo *. He had not lifted his fword in battle, for his arm was young. But the foul of the youth was great ; the fire of valour burnt in his eyes. He faw the difor-
* Faobhar-gorm, the Hue point of Jleel.
2 dered
A P O E M. 119
clered fteps of his father, and his figh arofe. " King of Croma," he faid, " is it becaufe thou haft no fon ; is it for the weaknefs of Fovar-gormo's arm that thy fighs arife ? I be- gin, my father, to feel my (Irength ; I have drawn the fword of my youth ; and I have bent the bow. Let me meet this Roth mar, with the fons of Croma : let me meet him, O my father ! I feel my burning foul !" " And thou (halt meet him," 1 faid, " ion of the fightlefs Crothar ! But let others advance be- fore thee, that I may hear the tread of thy feet at thy return*; for my eyes behold thee not, fair-haired Fovar-gormo !" He went, he met the foe ; he fell. Roth mar advances to Croma. He who flew my fon is near, with all his pointed fpears.
This is no time to fill the fhell, I replied, and took my fpear ! My people faw the fire of my eyes ; they ail arofe around. Through night we ftrode along the heath. Grey morn- ing rofe in the eaft. A green narrow vale appeared before us ; nor wanting was its wind- ing ftream. The dark hoft of Rothmar are on its banks, with all their glittering arms. We fought along the vale. They fled. Roth- mar funk beneath my fword ! Day had not defcended in the weft, when I brought his arms to Crothar. The aged hero felt them with his hands; and joy brightened overall his thoughts.
The people gather to the hall. The fhells of
the feaft are heard. Ten harps are fining ; five
1 4 bards
Ho C R O M A :
bards advance, and fing, by turns * the praife of Offian ; they poured forth their burning fouls, and the firing anfwered to their voice.
The
* Thofe extempore compofkions were in great repute among fucceeding bards. The pieces extant of that kind fhew more of the good ear, than of the poetical genius of their authors. The translator has only met with one poem of this fort, which he thinks worthy of being pre- ferved. It is a thoufand years later than Offian, but the authors feemed to have obferved his manner, and adopted ibme of his expreflions. The ftory of it is this : Five bards, palling the night in the houfe of a chief, who was a poet himfelf, went feverally to make their observations on, and returned with an extempore defcription of, night* The night happened to be one in October, as appears, from the poem, and in the north of Scotland it has all that variety which the bards afcribe to it in their de* fcriptions.
N
First Bard.
Jight is dull and dark. The clouds reft on the hills, No ftar with green trembling beam •, no moon lookt; from the fky. I hear the blaft in the wood ; but I hear it diftant far. The flream of the valley murmurs ; but its murmur is fullen and fad. From the tree at the grave of the dead the long-howling owl is heard. I fee a dim form on the plain ! It is a ghoft ! it fades, it flies. Some funeral fhall pafs this way : the meteor marks the path.
The diftant dog is howling from the hut of the hill. The flag lies on the mountain mofs : the hind is at his fide. She hears the wind in his branchy horns. She Harts, but lies again.
The roe is in the cleft of the rock j the heath-cock's head is beneath his wing. No beaft, no bird is abroad, but the owl and the howling fox. She on a leaflefs tree ; he in a cloud on the hill.
Dark, panting, trembling, fad, the traveller has loft his way. Through fhrubs, through thorns, he goes, along
the
A P O E M. 121
The joy of Croma was great : for peace re- turned to the land. The night came on with filence ; the morning returned with joy. No
foe
the gurgling rill. He fears the rock and the fen. He fears the ghoft of night. The old tree groans to the blaft ; the falling branch refounds. The wind drives the •withered burs, clung together, along the grafs. ' It is the light tread of a ghoft ! He trembles amidft the night.
Dark, dufky, howling, is night, cloudy, windy, and full of ghofts ! The dead are abroad ! my friends, receive me from the night.
Second Bard.
The wind is up. The mower defcends. The fpirit of the mountain fhrieks. Woods fall from high. Windows flap. The growing river roars. The traveller attempts the ford. Hark ! thatfhriek ! he dies ! The ftorm drives the horfe from the hill, the goat, the lowing cow. They tremble as drives the fhower, befide the mouldering bank.
The hunter Harts from fleep, in his lonely hut ; he wakes the fire decayed. His wet dogs fmoke around him. He fills the chinks with heath. Loud roar two mountain dreams which meet befide his booth.
Sad on the fide of a hill the wandering fhepherd fits. The tree refounds above him. The ftream roars down the rock. He waits for the rifing moon to guide him to his home.
Ghofts ride on the ftorm to-night. Sweet is their voice between the fqualls of wind. Their fongs are of other worlds,
The rain is paft. The dry wind blows. Streams roar, and windows flap. Cold drops fall from the roof. I fee the Harry fky. But the fhower gathers again. The weft is gloomy and dark. Night is flormy and difmal ; re- ceive me, my friends, from night.
Third Bard. The wind ftill founds between the hills ; and whittles through the grafs of the rock. The firs fall from their
place.
122 C R O M A :
foe came in darknefs, with his glittering fpear. The joy of Croma was great ; for the gloomy Rothmar had fallen !
I raifed
place. The turfy hut is torn. The clouds, divided, fly over the fky, and (hew the burning ftars. The meteor, token of death ! flies fparkling through the gloom. It refts on the hill. I fee the withered fern, the dark-browed rock, the fallen oak. Who is that in his fhrowd beneath the tree, by the ftream ?
The waves dark-tumble on the lake, and lain its rocky fides. The boat is brimful in the cove ; the oars on the rocking tide. A maid fits fad befide the rock, and eyes the rolling ftream. Her lover promifed to come. She faw his boat, when yet it was light, on the lake. Is this his broken boat on the fhore ? Are thefe his groans on the wind ?
Hark ! the hail rattles around. The flaky fnow de- fcends. The tops of the hills are white. The ftormy winds abate. Various is the night and cold j receive me, my friends, from night.
Fourth Bard.
Night is calm and fair ; blue, ftarry, fettled is night. The winds, with the clouds, are gone. They fink behind the hill. The moon is up on the mountain. Trees glider ; ftreams (hine on the rock. Bright rolls the fet- tled lake ; bright the ftream of the vale.
I fee the trees overturned *, the fhocks of corn on the plain. The wakeful hind rebuilds the fhocks, and whiftles on the diftant field.
Calm, fettled, fair is night ! Who comes from the place of the dead ? That form with the robe of fnow ; white arms, and dark-brown hair ! It is the daughter of the chief of the people : {he that lately fell ! Come, let us view thee, O maid ! thou that haft been the delight of heroes ! The blaft drives the phantom away *, white, without form, it afcends the hill.
The
A P O E M. 123
I raifed my voice for Fovar-gormo, when they laid the chief in earth. The aged Cro- thar was there, but his figh was not heard.
He
The breezes drive the blue mid, flowly, over the nar- row vale. It rifes on the hill, and joins its head to heaven. Night is fettled, calm, blue, (tarry, bright with the moon. Receive me not, my friends, for lovely is the night.
Fifth Bard.
Night is calm, but dreary. The moon is in a cloud in the weft. Slow moves that pale beam along the (haded hill. The diftant wave is heard. The torrent murmurs on the rock. The cock is heard from the booth. More than half the night is pad. The houfe-wife, groping in the gloom, rekindles the fettled fire. The hunter thinks that day approaches, and calls his bounding dogs. Ke afcends the hill, and whiftles on his way. A blaft re- moves the cloud. He fees the (tarry plough of the north. Much of the night is to pafs. He nods by the mofly rock
Hark ! the whirlwind is in the wood ! A low murmur in the vale I It is the mighty army of the dead returning from the air.
The moon refts behind the hill. The beam is (till on that lofty rock. Long are the (hadows of the trees. Now it is dark over all. Night is dreary, filent, and dark •, re- ceive me, my friends, from night.
The Chief.
Let clouds reft on the hills : fpirits fly, and travellers fear. Let the winds of the woods arife, the founding ftorms defcend. Roar ftreams and windows flap, and green-winged meteors fly ! rife the pale moon from be- hind her hills, or inclofe her head in clouds ! night is alike to me, blue, ftormy, or gloomy the fky. Night flies be- fore the beam, when it is poured on the hill. The young 4ay returns from his clouds, but we return no more.
Where
J 24 C R O M A.
He fearched for the wound of his fon, and found it in his breaft. Joy rofe in the face of the aged. He came and fpoke to Offian. " King of ipears !" he faid, " my fon has not fallen without his fame. The young war- rior did not fly ; but met death as he went forward in his ftrength. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is heard ! The feeble will not behold them in the hall ; or fmile at their trembling hands. Their me- mory fhall be honoured in fong ; the young tear of the virgin will fall. But the aged wither away, by degrees ; the fame of their youth, while yet they live, is all forgot. They fall in fecret. The figh of their fon is not heard. Joy is around their tomb ; the {tone of their fame is placed without a tear. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is around them !,f
Where are our chiefs of old ? Where our kings 01 mighty name ? The fields of their battles are filent. Scarce their moffy tombs remain. We fhall alio be for- got. This lofty houfe fhall fall. Our fons fhall not be- fcold the ruins in grafs. They (hall afk of the aged, f< Where flood the walls of our fathers ?M
Raife the fong, and flrike the harp ; fend round the fhells of joy. Sufpend a hundred tapers on high. Youths and maids begin the dance. Let fome grey bard be near me to tell the deeds of other times ; of kings re- nowned in our land, of chiefs we behold no more. Thus let the night pafs until morning (hall appear in our halls. Then let the bow be at hand, the dogs, the youths of the chafe. We fhall afcend the hill with day j and awake ths deer. 9
CALTHON and COLMAL
POEM,
ARGUMENT.
This piece, as many more of Oman's compofition9, is addrefled to one of the firft Chriftian miflionaries. The ftory of the poem is handed down, by tradition, thus : In the country of the Britons betv/een the walls, ' two chiefs lived in the days of Fingal, Dunthalmo, lord of Teutha, fuppofed to be the Tweed ; and Rath- mor, who dwelt at Clutha, well known to be the river Clyde. Rathmor was not more renowned for his gene- rofity and hofpitality, than Dunthalmo was infamous for his cruelty and ambition. Dunthalmo, through envy, or on account of fome private feuds, which fub- fifted between the families, murdered Rathmor at a feaft j but being afterwards touched with remorfe, he educated the two fons of Rathmor, Calthon and Col- mar, in his own houfe. They growing up to man's eftate, dropped fome hints that they intended to re- venge the death of their father, upon which Dun- thalmo fhut them up in two caves on the banks of Teutha, intending to take them off privately. Colmal, the daughter of Dunthalmo, who was fecretly in love with Calthon, helped him to make his efcape from prifon, and fled with him to Fingal, difguifed in the habit of a young warrior, and implored his aid againft Dunthalmo. Fingal fent Oman with three hundred men to Cohnav's relief. Dunthalmo having previoufly murdered Colmar, came to a battle with Ofiian ; but he was killed by that hero, and his army totally de- feated.
Calthon married Colmal, his deliverer ; and Ofiian returned to Morven.
[ «7 3
CALTHON and COLMAL
POEM,
T)leasant is the voice of thy fong, thou **• lonely dweller of the rock ! It comes on the found of the dream, along the narrow vale. My foul awakes, O ftranger ! in the midft of my hall. I ftretch my hand to the fpear, as in the days of other years. I ftretch my hand, but it is feeble ; and the figh of my bofom grows. Wilt thou not liften, fon of the rock ! to the fong of Offian ? My foul is full of other times ; the joy of my youth re- turns. Thus the fun appears in the weft, after the fteps of his brightnefs have moved behind a ftorm : the green hills lift their dewy heads : the blue ftreams rejoice in the vale. The aged hero comes forth on his ftaff; his grey hair glitters in the beam. Doft thou not behold, fon of the rock ! a fhield in Offian's hall ? It is marked with the ftrokes of battle ; and the brightnefs of its boffes has failed. That fhield the great Dunthalmo bore, the chief of dreamy Teutha. Dunthalmo bore it in battle, before
he
?23 CALTHON and COLMALt
he fell by Offian's fpear. Liften, fon of the rock ! to the tale of other years !
Rathmor was a chief of Clutha. The fee- ble dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rathmor were never fhut ; his feaft was always fpread. The fons of the ftranger came. They bleffed the generous chief of Clutha. Bards raifed the long, and touched the harp : joy bright- ened on the face of the fad ! Dunthalmo came, in his pride, and ruflied into the combat of Rathmor. The chief of Clutha overcame : the rage of Dunthalmo rofe. He came, by night, with his warriors ; the mighty Rath- mor fell. He fell in his halls, where his feaft was often fpread for ftrangers.
Colmar and Calthon were young, the fons of car-borne Rathmor. They came, in the joy of youth, into their father's hall. They behold him in his blood ; their burfting tears defcend. The foul of Dunthalmo melted, when he faw the children of youth. He brought them to Alteutha's * walls ; they grew in the houfe of their foe. They bent the bow in his prefence ; and came forth to his wars. They faw the fallen walls of their fathers ; they faw the green thorn in the halL Their tears rufhed forth in fecret. At times their faces were fad. Dunthalmo beheld their
*. Al-tcutha, or rather Balteutha, the town of Tweed, the name of Dunthalmo's feat. It is obfervable that all the names in this poem are derived from the Galic lan- guage ; which is a proof, that it was once the univerfat
language of the whole ifland.
grief :
A POEM. 129
grief : his darkening foul defigned their death. He clofed them in two caves, on the echoing banks of Teutha. The fun did not come there with his beams ; nor the moon of heaven by night. The fons of Rathmor remained in darknefs, and forefaw their death.
The daughter of Dunthalmo wept in filence, the fair-haired, blue-eyed Colmal*. Her eye had rolled in fecret on Calthon ; his lovelinefs fwelled in her foul. She trembled for her warrior ; but what could Colmal do ? Her arm could not lift the fpear ; nor was the fword formed for her fide. Her white bread never rofe beneath a mail. Neither was her eye the terror of heroes. What canft thou do, O Col- mal ! for the falling chief? Her fteps are un- equal ; her hair is loofe : her eye looks wildly through her tears. She came, by night, to the hall f. She armed her lovely form in fteel ; the fteel of a young warrior, who fell in the firft of his battles. She came to the cave of Calthon, and loofed the thong from his hands.
" Arife, fon of Rathmor," fhe faid, u arife, the night is dark ! Let us fly to the king of
* Caol-mhal, a woman with fmall eye-brows \ fm all eye- brows were a diftinguilhing part of beauty in Oflian's time : and he feldom fails to give them to the fine women of his poems.
•f- That is, the hall where the arms taken from enemies were hung up as trophies. OfTian is very careful to make his ftories probable j for he makes Colmal put on the arms of a youth killed in his firft battle, as more proper for a young woman, who cannot be fuppofed ftrong enough to carry the armour of a full-grown warrior.
vol. i. k Selma.
130 CALTHON and COLMAL:
Selma*, chief of fallen Clutha ! I am the fon of Lamgal, who dwelt in thy father's hall. I heard of thy dark dwelling in the cave, and my foul arofe. Arife, fon of Rathmor, arife, the night is dark !" u Bleft voice 1" replied the chief, " corned thou from the clouds to Calthon ? The ghofts of his fathers have often defcended in his dreams, fince the fun has re- tired from his eyes, and darknefs has dwelt around him. Or art thou the fon of Lamgal, the chief I often faw in Clutha ? But mall I fly to Fingal, and Colmar my brother low ? Will I fly to Morven, and the hero clofed in night ? No ; give me that fpear, fon of Lam- gal, Calthon will defend his brother !"
" A thoufand warriors," replied the maid, ci flretch their fpears round car-borne Colmar. What can Calthon do againft a hoft fo great ? Let us fly to the king of Morven, he will come with war. His arm is ftretched forth to the unhappy ; the lightning of his fword is round the weak. Arife, thou fon of Rathmor ! the fhadows will fly away. Arife, or thy fteps may be feen, and thou muft fall in youth !"
The fighing hero rofe ; his tears defcend for car-borne Colmar. He came with the maid to Selma's hall ; but he knew not that it was Colmal. The helmet covered her lovely face. Her bofom heaved beneath the fteel. Fingal returned from the chafe, and found the lovely Grangers. They were like two beams of light,
* Fingal.
in
A P O E M. 131
in the midft of the hall of fhells. The king heard the tale of grief; and turned his eyes around. A thoufand heroes half-rofe before him ; claiming the war of Teutha. I came with my fpear from the hill; the joy of battle rofe in my breaft : for the king fpoke to OfTian in the midft of a thoufand chiefs.
tC Son of my ftrength," began the king, " take thou the fpear of Fingal. Go to Teu- tha's rufhing ftream, and lave the car-borne Colmar. Let thy fame return before thee like a pleafant gale ; that my foul may rejoice over my fon, who renews the renown of our fa- thers. Oman ! be thou a ftorm in war ; but mild when the foe is low 1 It was thus my fame arofe, O my fon ! be thou like Selma's chief. When the haughty come to my halls, my eyes behold them not. But my arm is flretched forth to the unhappy. My fword defends the weak."
I rejoiced in the words of the king. I took my rattling arms. Diaran * rofe at my fide, and Dargo f king of fpears. Three hundred youths followed our Heps : the lovely ftrangers
were
* Diaran, father of that Connal who was unfortu- nately killed by Crimora his miftrefs.
■f Dargo, the fon of Collath, is celebrated in other poems by Offian. He is faid to have been killed by a boar at a hunting party. The lamentation of his miftrefs, or wife, Mingala, over his body, is extant ; but whether it is of Oman's compofition, I cannot determine. It is generally afcribed to him, and has much of his manner ; but fome traditions mention it as an imitation by feme k 2 later
rg» CALTHON and COL'MAL:
were at my fide. Dunthalmo heard the found of our approach. He gathered the ftrength of Teutha. lie flood on a hill with his hoft. They were like rocks broken with thunder, when their bent trees are finged and bare, and the ftreams of their, chinks have failed. The flream of Teutha rolled, in its pride, before the gloomy foe. I fent a bard to Dunthalmo, to offer the combat on the plain ; but he
later bard. As it has fottie poetical merit, I have fub- joined it.
The fpoufe of Dargo comes in tears : for Dargo was no more ! The heroes figh over Lartho's chief : and what (hall fad Mingala do ? The dark foul vanifhed like morning mitt, before the king of fpears : but the gene- rous glowed in his prefence like the morning ftar.
Who was the faireft and mod lovely ? Who but Col- lath's ftately fon ? Who fat in the midft of the wife, but .Dargo of the mighty deeds ?
Thy hand touched the trembling harp : Thy voice was foft as fummer winds. Ah me ! what fhall the heroes fay ? for Dargo fell before a boar. Pale is the lovely cheek ; the look of which was firm in danger ! Why haft thou failed on our hills, thou fairer than the beams of the fun !
The daughter of Adonflon was lovely in the eyes df the valiant ; {he was lovely in their eyes, but (he chofe to be the fpoufe of Dargo.
But thou art alone, Mingala ! the night is coming with its clouds ; where is the bed of thy repofe ? Where but in the tomb of Dargo ?
Why dofl thou lift the Hone, O bard ! why doft thou fhut the narrow houfe ? Min'gala's eyes are heavy, bard ! She muft fleep with Dargo.
Laft night I heard the fong of joy in Lartho's lofty hall. But filence dwells around my bed. Mingala refts with Dargo.
fmiled
A P O E M. 133
fnailed in the darknefs of his pride. His un- fettled hoft moved on the hill ; like the moun- tain cloud, when the blafl has entered its womb, and fcatters the curling gloom on every fide.
They brought Colmar to Teutha's bank, bound with a thoufand thongs. The chief is fad, but (lately. His eye is on his friends ; for we flood, in our arms, whilfl Teutha's wa- ters rolled between. Dunthalmo came with his fpear, and pierced the hero's fide : he rol- led on the bank in his blood. We heard his broken fighs. Calthon rufhed into the flream : I bounded forward on my fpear. Teutha's race fell before us. Night came rolling down. Dunthalmo refled on a rock, amidfl an aged wood. The rage of his bofom burned againil the car-borne Calthon. But Calthon flood in his grief ; he mourned the fallen Colmar ; Colmar (lain in youth, before his fame arofe !
I bade the fong of woe to rife, to footh the mournful chief ; but he flood beneath a tree, and often threw his fpear on earth. The hu- mid eye of Colmal rolled near in a fecret tear : me forefaw the fall of Dunthalmo, or of Clu- tha's warlike chief. Now half the night had paffed away. Silence and darknefs were on the field. Sleep refled on the eyes of the he- roes : Calthon's fettling foul was ftill. His eyes were half-clofed ; but the murmur of Teutha had not yet failed in his ear. Pale, and (lie wing his wounds, the ghoft of Colrnar came : he bent his head over the hero, and railed his feeble voice !
K 3 " Sleeps
i34 CALTHON and COLMAL:
" Sleeps the Ton of Rathmor in his night, and his brother low ? Did we not rife to the chafe together? Purfued we not the dark-brown hinds ? Colmar was not forgot till he fell, till death had blafted his youth. I lie pale beneath the rock of Lona. O let Calthon rife ! the morn- ing comes with its beams ; Dunthalmo will difhonour the fallen." He paffed away in his blaft. The rifing Calthon faw the fteps of his departure. He rufhed in the found of his Iteel. Unhappy Colmal rofe. She followed her hero through night, and dragged her fpear behind. But when Calthon came to Lona's rock, he found his fallen brother. The rage of his bofom rofe ; he rufhed among the foe. The groans of death afcend. They clofe around the chief. He is bound in the midft, and brought to gloomy Dunthalmo. The fhout of joy arofe ; and the hills of night re- plied.
I ftarted at the found ; and took my father's fpear. Diaran rofe at my fide ; and the youth- ful ftrength of Dargo. We miffed the chief of CJutha, and our fouls were fad. I dreaded the departure of my fame. The pride of my valour rofe ! u Sons of Morven !" I faid, " it is not thus our fathers fought. They refled not on the field of ftrangers, when the foe was not fallen before them. Their ftrength was like the eagles of heaven ; their renown is in the ibng. But our people fall by degrees. Our fame begins to depart. What fhall the king of Morven fay, if Oflian conquers not at
Teutha ?
A POEM. 135
Teutha ? Rife in your fteel, ye warriors ! fol- low the found of Offian's courfe. He will not return, but renowned, to the echoing walls of Seima."
Morning rofe on the blue waters of Teutha. Colmal flood before me in tears, She told of the chief of Clutha : thrice the fpear fell from her hand. My wrath turned againft the ftranger ; for my foul trembled for Calthon. « Son of the feeble hand !" I faid, " do Teu- tha's warriors fight with tears ? The battle is not won with grief ; nor dwells the figh in the foul of war. Go to the deer of Carmun, to the lowing herds of Teutha. But leave thefe arms, thou ion of fear ! A warrior may lift them in fight."
I tore the mail from her moulders. Her fnowy breaft appeared. She bent her blufh- ing face to the ground. I looked in filence to the chiefs. The fpear fell from my hand ; the figh of my bofom rofe ! But when I heard the name of the maid, my crowding tears rufhed down. I bleffed the lovely beam of youth, and bade the battle move !
Why, fon of the rock, mould O/Iian tell how Teutha's warriors died ? They are now forgot in their land ; their tombs are not found on the heath. Years came on with their ftorms. The green mounds are mouldered away. Scarce is the grave of Dunthalmo ken, or the place where he fell by the fpear of Offian. Some grey warrior, half blind with age, fitting by night at the flaming oak of the hall, tells k 4 now
i36 CALTHON and COLMAL.
now my deeds to his fons, and the fall of the dark Dunthalmo. The faces of youth bend fidelong towards his voice. Surprize and joy burn in their eyes ! I found Calthon bound to an oak ; my fword cut the thongs from his hands. I gave him the white-bofomed Col* mah They dwelt in the halls of Teutha,
THE
WAR of CAROS:
POEM.
ARGUMENT,
Caros is probably the noted ufurper Caraufius, by birth s Menapian, who aflTumed the purple in the year 284 : and, feizing on Britain, defeated the Emperor Max-* imian Herculius in feveral naval engagements, which gives propriety to his being called in this poem the king of jlnps. He repaired Agricola's wall, in order toobftru& the incurfions of the Caledonians ; and when he was employed in that work, it appears he was attacked by a party under the command of Ofcar the fon of Offian, This battle is the foundation of the prefent poer% which is addrefled to Malvina the daughter of Tofcar.
C 139 ] THE
WAR of CAROS:
OEM,
Bring, daughter of Tofcar ! bring the harp! the light of the fong riles in Offian's ioul ! It is like the field, when darknefs covers the hills around, and the fhadow grows flowly on the plain of the fun. I behold my fon, O Mal- vina ! near the moiTy rock of Crona *. But it is the milt of the defart, tinged with the beam of the weft ! Lovely is the mift, that aflumes the form of Oicar ! turn from it, ye winds, when ye roar on the fide of Ard- ven !
Who comes towards my fon, with the mur- mur of a fong ? His ftaff is in his hand, his grey hair loofe on the wind. Surly joy lightens his face. He often looks back to
* Crona is the name of a fmall flream which runs into the Canon.
Caros.
14© The WAR of CAROS:
Caros. It is Ryno * of fongs, he that went to view the foe. " What does Caros king of fhips ?" faid the fon of the now mournful Offian, " fpreads he the wings f of his pride, bard of the times of old !" " He fpreads them, Ofcar," replied the bard, " but it is behind his gathered heap J. He looks over his ftones with fear. He beholds thee terrible, as the ghofl of night, that rolls the wave to his fhips !"
" Go, thou firft of my bards !" fays Ofcar, " take the fpear of Fingal. Fix a flame on its point. Shake it to the winds of heaven. Bid him, in fongs, to advance, and leave the rolling of his wave. Tell to Caros that I long for battle ; that my bow is weary of the chafe of Cona. Tell him the mighty are not here ; and that my arm is young."
He went with the murmur of fongs. Of- car reared his voice on high. It reached his heroes on Ardven, like the noife of a cave \ when the fea of Togorma rolls before it ; and its trees meet the roaring winds. They gather round my fon like the flreams of the hill ; when, after rain, they roll in the pride of their courfe. Ryno came to the mighty Caros. He ftruck his flaming fpear. Come to the bat- tle of Ofcar, O thou that fitteft on the rolling
* Ryno is often mentioned in the ancient poetry. He feems to have been a Bard, of the iirit rank, in the days of Fingal.
f The Roman eagle.
% Agricola's wall, which Caraufius repaired.
6 of
A P O £ M. 141
of waves ! Fingal is diftarit far ; he hears the fongs of bards in Morven : the wind of his hall is in his hair. His terrible fpear is at his fide ; his fhield that is like the darkened moon ! Come to the battle of Ofcar ; the hero is alone !
He came not. over the ftreamy Car.un *. The bard returned with his fong. Grey night grows dim on Crona. The feaft of (hells is fpread. A hundred oaks burn to the wind ; faint light gleams over the heath. The ghofts of Ardven pafs through the beam, and fhew their dim and diftant forms. Comala f is half unfeen on her meteor ; Hidallan is Allien and dim, like the darkened moon behind the mift of night.
" Why art thou fad ?" faid Ryno ; for he alone beheld the chief. " Why art thou fad, Hidallan ! haft thou not received thy fame ? The fongs of Offiari have been heard ; thy ghoft has brightened in wind, when thou didft bend from thy cloud, to hear the fong of Mor- ven's bard !" " And do thine eyes," faid Of- car, " behold the chief, like the dim meteor of night ? Say, Ryno, fay, how fell Hidallan, the renowned in the days of my fathers ? His name remains on the rocks of Cona. I have often feen the fl re .ms of his hills I"
* The river Carron
f This is the fcene of Comala's death, which is the fubjeft of the dramatic poem. The poet mentions her in this place, in order to introduce the fequel of Hidal- lan's ftory, who, on account of her death, had been ex- pelled from the wars of Fingal.
Fingal,
142 The WAR of CAROS:
Fingal, replied the bard, drove Hidallan from his wars. The king's foul was fad for Comala, and his eyes could not behold the chief. Lonely, fad along the heath, he flowly moved, with filent fteps. His arms hang dif- ordered on bis fide. His hair flies loofe from his brow. The tear is in his down-caft eyes 5 a fig;h half-filent in his breaft ! Three days he ftrayed unfeen, alone, before he came to La- in or's halls : the moffy halls of his fathers, at the dream of Balva *. There Lamor fat alone beneath a tree ; for he had fent his people with Hidallan to war. The dream ran at his feet, his grey head refted on his ftaff*. Sightlefs are his aged eyes. He hums the fong of other times. The noife of Hidallan's feet came to his ear : he knew the tread of his fon.
" Is the fon of Lamor returned ; or is It the found of his ghoft ? Haft thou fallen on the banks of Carun, fon of the aged Lamor I Or, if I hear the found of Hidallan's feet ; where are the mighty in the war? where are my people, Hidallan ! that were wont to re- turn with their echoing fhields ? Have they fallen on the banks of Carun ?"
" No :" replied the fighing youth, 'c the people of Lamor live. They are renowned in war, my father ! but Hidallan is renowned no
* This is perhaps that fmall ftream, dill retaining the name of Balva, which runs through the romantic valley of Glentivar in Stirlingfhire. Balva fignifies a filent Jlream \ and Glentivar the fequeflered vale,
more.
A P O E M. 143
more. I muft fit alone on the banks of Balva, when the roar of the battle grows."
" But thy fathers never fat alone," replied the rifing pride of Lam or. " They never fat alone on the banks of Balva, when the roar of battle rofe. Doft thou not behold that tomb? My eyes difcern it not ; there refts the noble Garmallon, who never fled from war ! Come, thou renowned in battle, he fays, come to thy father's tomb. How am I renowned, Gar- mallon ? my fon has fled from war I"
" King of the ftreamy Balva I" faid Hi- dallan with a figh, " why doft thou torment my foul ? Lamor, I never fled. Fingal was fad for Comala ; he denied his wars to Hidal- lan. Go to the grey ftreams of thy land, he faid ; moulder like a leaflefs oak, which the winds have bent over Balva, never more to grow 1
" And muft I hear," Lamor replied, " the lonely tread of Hidallan's feet ? When thou- fands are renowned in battle, fhall he bend over my grey ftreams ? Spirit of the noble Garmallon ! carry Lamor to his place ; his eyes are dark ; his foul is fad ; his fon has loft his fame !"
" Where," faid the youth, " (hall I fearch for fame, to gladden the foul of Lamor ? From whence fhall I return with renown, that the found of my arms may be pleafant in his ear ? If I go to the chafe of hinds, my name will not be heard. Lamor will not feel my dogs, with his hands, glad at my arrival from the 10 hill.
144- The WAR of CARDS;
hill. He will not inquire of his mountains, or of the dark-brown deer of his defarts !"
" I muft fall," faid Lamor, " like a leaflefs oak : it grew on a rock ! it was overturned by the winds ! My ghoft will be feen on my hills, mournful for my young Hidallan. Will not ye, ye mifts I as ye rife, hide him from my fight ? My fon ! go to Lamor's hall : there the arms of our fathers hang. Bring the fword of Garmallon ; he took it from a foe !"
He went and brought the fword with all its ftudded thongs. He gave it to his father. The grey-haired hero felt the point with his1 hand.
" My fon ! lead me to Garmallon's tomb : it rifes befide that ruftling tree. The long grafs is withered ; I hear the breezes whittling there. A little fountain murmurs near, and fends its water to Balva. There let me reft $ it is noon : the fun is on our fields !"
He led him to Garmallon's tomb. Lamor pierced the fide of his fon. They fleep to- gether : their ancient halls moulder away. Ghofts are feen there at noon : the valley is filent, and the people fhun the place of Lamor.
" Mournful is thy tale," faid Ofcar, " fon of the times of old ! My foul fighs for Hidal- lan ; he fell in the days of his youth. He flies on the blaft of the defart, his wandering is in a foreign land. Sons of the echoing Morven ! draw near to the foes of Fingal. Send the night away in fongs ; watch the ftrength of Caros. Ofcar goes to the people
of
A POEM. 14;
of other times ; to the (hades of filenr Ard- Ven ; where his fathers fit dim in their clouds, and behold the future war. And art thou there, Hidallan, like a half-extinguifhed me- teor ? Come to my fight, in thy forrow, chief of the winding Balva !"
The heroes move with their fongs. Ofcar llowly afcends the bill. The meteors of night fet on the heath before him. A diftant tor- rent faintly roars. Unfrequent blafts rufh through aged oaks. The half-enlightened moon finks dim and red behind her hill. Fee- ble voices are heard on the heath. Ofcar drew his fword !
" Come," faid the hero* " O ye ghofts of my fathers ! ye that fought againft the kings of the world ! Tell me the deeds of future times ; and your converfe in your caves ; when you talk together, and behold your fons in the fields of the brave."
Trenmorcame, from his hill, at the voice of his mighty fon. A cloud, like the fleed of the ftranger, fupported his airy limbs. His robe is of the mift of Lano, that brings death to the people. His fword is a green meteor half-extinguifhed. His face is without form, and dark. He fighed thrice over the hero : thrice the winds of night roared around ! Many were his words to Ofcar ; but they only came by halves to our ears : they were dark as the tales of other times, before the light of the long arofe. He flowly vanifhed, like a mift that melts on the funny hill. It was then, O
vol. i. L daughter
i46 The WAR of CAR OS:
daughter of Tofcar ! my fon began firft to be fad. He forefaw the fall of his race. At times, he was thoughtful and dark ; like the fun when he carries a cloud on his face, but again he looks forth from his darknefs on the green hills of Cona.
Ofcar paffed the night among his fathers, grey morning met him on CarunTs banks. A green vale furrounded a tomb which arofe in the times of old. Little hills lift their head at a diftance ; and ftretch their old trees to the wind. The warriors of Caros fat there, for they had paffed the ftream by night. They appeared, like the trunks of aged pines, to the pale light of the morning. Ofcar flood at the tomb, and raifed thrice his terrible voice. The rocking hills echoed around ; the ftarting roes bounded away : and the trembling ghofts of the dead fled, fhrieking on their clouds. So terrible was the voice of my fon, when he called his friends !
A thoufand fpears arofe around ; the peo- ple of Caros rofe. Why, daughter of Tof- ear, why that tear ? My fon, though alone, is brave. Ofcar is like a beam of the fky ; he turns around, and the people fall. His hand is the arm of a ghoft, when he flretches it from a cloud ; the reft of his thin form is unfeen ; but the people die in the vale ! My fon be- held the approach of the foe ; he ftood in the filent darknefs of his ftrength. " Am I alone* faid Ofcar, in the midft of a thoufand foes ? Many a fpear is there ! many a darkly-rolling
eye 1'
A P O E M. 147
fcye ! Shall I fly to Ardven ? But did my fa- thers ever fly ? The mark of their arm is in a thoufand battles. Ofcar too mall be renowned! Come, ye dim ghofts of my fathers, and be- hold my deeds in war ! I may fall ; but I will be renowned like the race of the echoing Morven." He ftood, growing in his place, like a flood in a narrow vale ! The battle came, but they fell : bloody was the fword of Ofcar !
The noife reached his people at Crona ; they came like a hundred ftrearns. The war- riors of Caros fled ; Ofcar remained like a rock left by the ebbing fea. Now dark and deep, with all his Meeds, Caros rolled his might along : the little ftrearns are loft in his courfe ; the earth is rocking round. Battle fpreads from wing to wing: ten thoufand fwords gleam at once in the (ky. But why fhould Offian fing of battles ? For never more mall my fteel fhine in war. I remember the days of my youth with grief ; when I feel the weakness of my arm. Happy are they who fell in their youth, in the midft of their renown ! They have not beheld the tombs of their friend ; or failed to bend the bow of their ftrength. Happy art thou, O Ofcar, in the midft of thy rufhing blaft. Thou often goeft to the fields of thy fame, where Caros fled from thy lifted fword.
Darknefs comes on my foul, O fair daughter
of Tofcar ! I behold not the form of my fori
at Carun ; nor the figure of Ofcar on Crona,
The milling winds have carried him faraway ;
L 2 and
148 The WAR of CAROS,
and the heart of his father is fad. But lead me, O Malvina ! to the found of my woods * to the roar of my mountain ftreams. Let the chafe be heard on Gona ; let me think on the days of other years. And bring me the harp, O maid ! that I may touch it, when the light of my foul mall arife. Be thou near, to learn the fong ; future times fhall hear of me ! The fons of the feeble hereafter will lift the voice on Cona ; and, looking up to the rocks, fay, " Here Oflian dwelt." They fhall admire the chiefs of old, the race that are no more ! while we ride on our clouds, Maivina ! on the wings of the roaring winds. Our voices fhall be heard, at times, in the defert j we fhall fing on the breeze of the rock.
CATHLIN of CLUTHA
POEM.
1 3
ARGUME NT.
An addrefs to Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar. The poet relates the arrival of Cathlin in Selma, to folicit aid againft Duth-carmor of Cluba, who had killed Cath- mol, for the fake of his daughter Lanul. Fingal de- clining to make a choice among his heroes, who were all claiming the command of the expedition ; they re- tired each to his hill of ghofls \ to be determined by- dreams. The fpirit of Trenmor appears to Oflian and Ofcar : they fail, from the bay of Carmona, and, on the fourth day, appear off the valley of Rathcol, in Inis-huna, where Duth-carmor had fixed his refidence. Oflian difpatches a bard to Duth-carmor to demand battle. Night comes on, The diftrefs of Cathlin of Clutha. Oflian devolves the command on Ofcar, who, according to the cuftom of the kings of Morven, be- fore battle, retired to a neighbouring hill. Upon the coming on of day, the battle joins. Ofcar and Duth- carmor meet. The latter falls. Ofcar carries the mail and helmet of Duth-carmor to Cathlin, who had retired from the field, Cathlin is difcovered to be the daugh- ter of Cathmol, in dilguiie, who had been carried off, by force, by, and had made her efcape from, Duth- carmor,
I *5* 3
CATHLIN of CLUTHA
POEM.
Come *, thou beam that art lonely, from watching in the night ! The fqually winds are around thee, from all their echoing hills. Red, over my hundred flreams, are the light- covered
* The traditions, which accompany this poem, inform us, that it went, of old, under the name of Laoi-Oi-lutha ; i. e. the hymn of the maid >f Lutha. They pretend alfo to fix the time of its compofition, to the third year after the death of Fingal ; that is, during the expedition of Fergus the fon of Fingal, to the banks of Ulfca-duthon. In fupport of this opinion, the Highland ienachies have prefixed to this poem, an addrefs of Olfian, to Congal the young fon of Fergus, which I have rejected, as having no manner of connection with the refl of the piece. It has poetical merit ; and, probably, it was the opening of one of Ollian's other poems, though the bards injudiciouily transferred it to the piece now before us.
" Congal, fon of Fergus of Durath, thou light between thy locks, afcend to the rock of Selma, to the oak of tie breaker of fhields. Look over the bolbm of night, it is itreaked with the red paths of the dead : look on the night of ghofts, and kindle, O Congal ! thy foul. Be not, like the moon on a ftream, lonely in the midft of L 4 clouds :
152 CATHLIN or CLUTKA:
covered paths of the dead. They rejoice, on the eddying winds, in the feafon of night. Dwells there no joy in fong, white hand of the harps of Lutha ? Awake the voice of the firing ; roll my foul to me. It is a flream that has failed. Malvina, pour the fong.
I hear thee, from thy darknefs, in Selma, thou that watched, lonely, by night ! Why didfl thou with-hold the fong, from OfTian's failing foul ? As the falling brook to the ear of the hunter, defcending from his ftcrm- covered hill ; in a fun-beam rolls the echoing ftream ; he hears, and makes his dewy locks : fuch is the voice of Lutha, to the friend of the fpirits of heroes. My fwelling bofom beats high. I look back on the days that are pair. Come, thou beam that art lonely, from watching in the night !
In the echoing bay of Carmona * we faw, one day, the bounding (hip. On high, hung
a broken
clouds : darknefs clofes around it ; and the beam departs. Depart not, fon of Fergus ! ere thou marked the field with thy fword. Afcend to the rock of Seliria ; to the oak of the breaker of fhields."
* Car-mona, bay of the dark-brown hills, an arm of the fea, in the neighbourhood of Selma. In this paragraph are mentioned the fignals preferred to Fingal, by thofe who came to demand his aid. The fuppliants held, in one hand, a fliield pcyered with blood, and, in the other, a broken fpear ; the fir ft a fymbol of the death of their friends, the Lift an emblem of their own helplefs fitua- tion. If the king chofe to grant fuccours, which gene- rally was the cafe, he reached to them the fiell of feajts^ as a token of his hofpitality and friendly intentions toward,-; them.
If
A POEM. J53
a broken fhield ; it was marked with wander- ing blood. Forward came a youth, in arms, and ftretched his pointlefs fpear. Long, over his tearful eyes, hung loofe his difordered locks. Fingal gave the (hell of kings. The words of the ftranger arofe. " In his hall lies Cathmol of Clutha, by the winding of his own dark ftreams. Duth-carmor faw white-bofomed Lanul *, and pierced her father's fide. In the rufhy defart were my fteps. He fled in the feafon of night. Give thine aid to Cath- lin to revenge his father. I fought thee not as a beam, in a land of clouds. Thou, like the fun, art known, king of echoing Selma !"
Selma's king looked around. In his pre- fence, we rofe in arms. But who fhould
It may not be difagreeable to the reader to lay here be- fore him the ceremony of the Cran-tara, which was of a fimilar nature, and, till very lately, ufed in the Highlands. When the news of an enemy came to the refidence of a chief, he immediately killed a goat with his own fword, dipped the end of an half -burnt piece of wood in the blood, and gave it to one of his fervants, to be carried to the next hamlet. From hamlet to hamlet this tefferd was carried with the utmoft expedition, and, in the fpace of a few hours, the whole clan were in arms, and convened in an appointed place ; the name of which was the only word that accompanied the delivery of the Cran-tara. This fymbol was the manifeflo of the chief, by which he threatened lire and fword to thofe of his clan, that did not immediately appear at his flandard.
* Lanul, full-eyed, a furname which, according to tra- dition, was bellowed on the daughter of Cathmol, on ac- count of her beauty •, this tradition, however, may have been founded on that partiality, which the bards have (hewn to Cathlin of Clutha ; for, according to them, no falfehood could divell in the foul of the lovely.
lift
i54 CATHLIN of CLUTHA:
lift the fnield ? for all had claimed the war. The night came down ; we ftrode, in filence ; each to his hill of ghofts : that fpirits might defcQnd, in our dreams, to mark us for the field. We (truck the fhield of the dead : we raifed the hum of fongs. We thrice call- ed the ghofts of our fathers. We laid us down in dreams. Trenmor came, before mine eyes, the tall form of other years ! His blue hofts were behind him in half-diftinguiihed rows. Scarce feen is their ftrife in mift, or their ftretching forward to deaths. I liitened ; but no found was there. The forms were empty wind !
I ftarted from the dream of ghofts. On a fudden blaft flew my whiftling air. Low- founding, in the oak, is the departure of the dead. 1 took my fhield from its bough. On- ward came the rattling of fteel. It was Of- car* of Lego. He had feen his fathers. " As rufhes forth the blaft, on the bofom of whiten- ing waves ; fo carelefs fhall my courie be, through ocean, to the dwelling of foes. I have feen the dead, my father ! My beating foul is high ! My fame is bright before me, like the
* Ofcar is here called OJcar of Legoy from his mother being the daughter of Branno, a powerful chief, on the banks of that lake. It is remarkable that Offian addreffes no poem to Malvina, in which her lover Ofcar was not one of the principal atlors. His attention to her, after the death of his fon, mews that delicacy of fentiment is not confined, as fomc fondly imagine, to our own polifhed nines.
I ftreak
A P O E M. 155
flreak of light on a cloud, when the broad fun comes forth, red traveller of the fky !"
" Grandfon of Branno," I faid, " not Of-
car alone mall meet the foe. I rum forward, through ocean, to the woody dwelling of he- roes. Let us contend, my fon, like eagles, from one rock ; when they lift their broad wings, againft the ftream of winds." We railed our fails in Carmona. From three fhips, they marked my fhield on the wave, as I looked on nightly Ton-thena *, red traveller between the clouds. Four days came the breeze abroad. Lumon came forward in milt. In winds were its hundred groves. Sun- beams marked, at times, its brown fide. White, leapt the foamy ftreams, from all its echoing rocks.
A green field, in the bofom of hills, winds filent with its own blue ftream. Here, midft the waving of oaks, wrere the dwellings of kings of old. But filence, for many dark-brown years, had fettled in graffy Rathcol *j* ; for the
race
* Ton-thena, fire of the wave, was the remarkable ftar mentioned in the feventh book of Temora, which di- rected the courfe of Larthon to Ireland. It feems to have been well known to thofe, who failed on that fea, which divides Ireland from South-Britain. As the courfe of Offi.in was along the coaft of Inis-huna, he mentions,, with propriety, that ftar which directed the voyage of the colony from that country to Ireland.
f Rath-col, ivoody field, does not appear to have been the refidence of Duth-carmor - he feems rather to have been forced thither by a ftorm •, at leaft I mould think that to be the meaning of the poet, from his expreflion, that Ton-thena had hid her heady and that he bound his white*
bofomed
155 CATHLIN of CLUTHA:
race of heroes had failed, along the pleafant vale. Duth-carmor was here, with his people, dark rider of the wave. Ton-thena had hid her head in the fky. He bound his white- hofomed fails. His courfe is on the hills of Rath- col, to the feats of roes. We came. I fent the bard, with fongs, to call the foe to fight. Duth-carmor heard him, with joy. The king's foul was like a beam of fire ; a beam of fire, marked with fmoak, rufhing, varied, through the bofom of night. The deeds of Duth-carmor were dark, though his arm was ftrong.
Night came, with the gathering of clouds. By the beam of the oak we fat down. At a diitance ftood Cathlin of Clutha. I faw the changeful * foul of the ftranger. As fliadows fly over the field of grafs, fo various is Cath- lin's cheek. It was fair, within locks, that
bofomed fails ; which is as much as to fay, that the weather was ftormy, and that Duth-earmor put in. to the bay of Rath-col for fhelter.
* From this circumftance, fucceeding bards feigned that Cathlin, who is here in the difguife of a young war- rior, had fallen in love with Duth-carmor at a feaft, to which he had been invited by her father. Her love was converted into deteftation for him, after he had murdered her father. But as thofe rain-bows of heaven are changeful > fay my authors, fpeaking of women, fhe felt the return of her former paffion, upon the approach of Duth-carmor's danger. I myfelf, who think more favourably of the fex, muft attribute the agitation of Cathlin's mind to her ex- treme fenfibility to the injuries done her by Duth-car- mor : and this opinion is favoured by the fequel of the ftory.
rofe
A POEM. 157
rofe on Rath-col's wind. I did not rufh, amidft his foul, with my words. I bade the fong to rife.
" Ofcar of Lego," I faid, " be thine the fecret hill *, to-night. Strike the fhield like Morven's kings. With day, thou fhalt lead in war. From my rock, I fhall fee thee, Ofcar, a dreadful form afcending in fight, like the ap- pearance of ghofts, amidft the ftorms they raife. Why fhould mine eyes return to the dim times of old, ere yet the fong had burfted forth, like the fudden riling of winds ? But the years, that are paft, are marked with mighty deeds. As the nightly rider of waves looks up to Ton-thena of beams ; fo let us turn our eyes to Trenmor, the father of kings."
" Wide, in Caracha's echoing held, Carmal had poured his ^tribes. They were a dark ridge of waves. The grey- haired bards were like moving foam on their face. They kin- dled the ftrife around, with their red-rolling eyes. Nor alone were the dwellers of rocks ;
# This paffage alludes to the well-known cuftom among the ancient kings of Scotland, to retire from their army on the night preceding a battle. The (lory which Oflian introduces in the next paragraph, concerns the fall of the Druids. It is faid in many old poems, that the Druids, in the extremity of their affairs, had folicited and obtained aid from Scandinavia. Among the auxilia- ries there came many pretended magicians, which cir- cumftance Oflian alludes to, in his defcription of the Jin of Lcda. Magic and incantation could nor, however, prevail \ for Trenmor, afliited by the valour of his ion Trathal, entirely broke the power of the Druids.
a fea
j58 CATHLIN of CLUTHAt
afon of Loda was there ; a voice, in his own dark land, to call the ghofts from high. On his hill, he had dwelt, in Lochlin,in the midft of a leaflefs grove. Five (tones lifted, near, their heads. Loud roared his ruining dream. He often raifed his voice to the winds, when meteors marked their nightly wings ; when the dark-robed moon was rolled behind her hill. Nor unheard of ghofts was he ! They came with the found of eagle wings. They turned battle, in fields, before the kings of men.
" But, Trenmor, they turned not from bat- tle. He drew forward that troubled war ; in its dark fkirt was Trathal, like a riling light. It was dark ; andLoda's fon poured forth his figns, on night. The feeble were not before thee, fon of other lands * ! Then rofe the ft rife of kings, about the hill of night ; but it was ibft as two fummer gales, making their light wings, on a lake. Trenmor yielded to his fon ; for the fame of the king had been heard. Trathal came forth before his father, and the foes failed, in echoing Caracha. The years that are paft, my fen, are marked with mighty deeds f «"
* Trenmor and Trathal. Oflian introduced this epi- fode, as an example to his fon, from ancient times.
-J* Thofe who deliver down this poem in tradition, la- ment that there is a great part of it loft. In particular they regret the lofs of an epifode, which was here intro- duced, with the fequel of the ftory of Carmal and his Druids. Their attachment to it was founded on the de- fcriptions of magical inchantments which it contained.
In
A POEM. 159
In clouds rofe the eaftern light. The foe came forth in arms. The ftrife is mixed on Rath-col, like the roar of ftreams. Behold the contending of kings ! They meet befide the oak. In gleams of fteel the dark forms are loft ; fuch is the meeting of meteors, in a vale by night : red light is fcattered round, and men forefee the ftorm ! Duth-carmor is low in blood ! The fon of Offian overcame ! Not harmlefs in battle was he, Malvina hand of harps !
Nor, in the field, were the fteps of Cathlin. The ftranger ftood by a fecret- ftream, where the foam of Rath-col fkirted the moify ftones. Above, bends the branchy birch, and ftrews its leaves, on wind. The inverted fpear of Cath- lin touched, at times, the ftream. Ofcar brought Dnth-carmor's mail : his helmet with its eagle wing. He placed them before the ftranger, and his words were heard. " The foes of thy father have failed. They are laid in the field of ghofts. Renown returns to Morven, like a rifmg wind. Why art thou dark, chief of Clutha ? Is there caufe for grief?"
" Son of Offian of harps, my foul is darkly fad. I behold the arms of Cathmol, which he raifed in war. Take the mail of Cathlin, place it high in Selma's hall ; that thou mayft remember the haplefs in thy diftant land." From white breafts defcended the mail. It was the race of kings ; the foft- handed daughter of Cathmol, at the ftreams of Clutha ! Duth-» carmor faw her bright in the hall ; he had come,
by
i<56 CATHLtN of CLUTHA.
by night, to Clutha. Cathmol met him, in battle, but the hero fell. Three days dwelt the foe, with the maid. On the fourth fhe fled in arms. She remembered the race of kings, and felt her burfting foul !
Why, maid of Tofcar of Lutha, mould I tell how Cathlin failed ? Her tomb is at rufhy Lumon, in a diftant land. Near it were the fteps of Sul-malla, in the days of grief. She railed the fong, for the daughter of ftrangers, and touched the mournful harp.
Come, from the watching of night, Mal- vina, lonely beam I
SUL-MALLA
OF
L U M O N
POEM.
VOL. I.
M
ARGUMENT.
This poem, which, properly fpeaking, is a continuation of the laft, opens with an addrefs to Sul-malla, the daugh- ter of the king of Inis-huna, whom Oflian met, at the chafe, as he returned from the battle of Rath- col. Sul-malla invites Oflian and Ofcar to a feaft, at the re- fidence of her father, who was then abfent in the wars. Upon hearing their name and family, (he relates an expedition of Fingal into Inis-huna. She cafually men- tioning Cathmor, chief of Atha (who then aflifted her father againfl hre enemies), Oflian introduces the epi- fode of Culgorm and Suran-dronlo, two Scandinavian kings, in whofe wars Oflian himfelf and Cathmor were engaged on oppofite fides. The ftory is imperfect, a part of the original being loft. Oflian, warned in a dream, by the ghoft of Trenmor, fets fail from Inis- huna*
t 1*3 3
S U L-M A L L A
OF
L U M O N:
OEM,
1T7HO * moves fo {lately, on Lumon, at the
" roar of the foamy waters ? Her hair
falls upon her heaving breaft. White is her
arm behind, as flow flie bends the bow. Why
doft
* The expedition of Ofiian to Inis-huna happened a fliort time before Fingal pafled over into Ireland, to de- throne Cairbar the fon of Borbar-duthal. Cathmor, the the brother of Cairbar, was aiding Conmor, king of Inis-huna, in his wars, at the time that Oflian defeated Duth-carmor, in the valley of Rath- col. The poem is more interefting, that it contains fo many particulars con- cerning thofe perfonages, who make fo great a figure in Temora.
The exa& correfpondence in the manners and cuftoms of Inis-huna, kas here defcribed, to thofe of Caledonia, leaves no room to doubt, that the inhabitants of both were originally the fame people. Some may allege, that Oflian might transfer, in his poetical descriptions, the manners of his own nation to foreigners. This objection is eafily anfwered. Why has he not done this with re- gard to the inhabitants of Scandinavia ? We find the lat- M 2 tss
1 64 SUL-MA1LA of LUMON:
doft thou wander in deferts, like a light through a cloudy -field ? The young roes are panting, by their fecret rocks. Return, thou daughter of kings ! the cloudy night is near ! It was
O JO
the young branch of green Inis-huna, Sul- malla of blue eyes. She fent the bard from her rock, to bid us to her feaft. Amid ft the fong we fat down, in Cluba's echoing hall. White moved the hands of Sul-malla, on the trembling firings. Half-heard amidft the found, was the name of Atha's king : he that was abfent in battle for her own green land. Nor abfent from her foul was he ; he came mid ft her thoughts by night. Ton-thena looked in, from the fky, and law her tolling arms.
The found of firelts had ceafed. Amidft long locks, Sul-malla role. She fpoke with bended eyes, and afked of our courfe through feas ; " for of the kings of men are ye, tall riders of the wave *." " Not unknown," I
laid,
£er very different in their cuftoms and fuperftitions from the nations of Britain and Ireland. The Scandinavian manners are remarkably barbarous and fierce, and feem to mark out a nation much lefs advanced in a ftate of civili- zation, than the inhabitants of Britain were in the times of Oman.
* Sul-malla here difcovers the quality of Oman and Ofcar from their flature and (lately gait. Among na- tions not far advanced in civilization, a fuperior beauty and (tatelinefs of perfon were infeparabie from nobility of blood. It was from thefe qualities, that thofe of family- were known by (hangers, not from tawdry trappings of £ate injudicioufly thrown round them. The caufe of this
diitinguifh-ng
A P O E M. 16$
faid, <c at his ftreams is he, the father of our race. Fingal has been heard of at Cluba, blue- eyed daughter of kings. Nor only, at Cona's ftream, is Offian and Ofcar known. Foes trembled at our voice, and fhrunk ia other lands."
" Not unmarked," faid the maid, Cc by Sul-malla, is the fhield of Morven's king. It hangs high in my father's hall, in memory of the pad ; when Fingal came to Cluba, in the days of other years. Loud roared the boar of Culdarnu, in the midft of his rocks and woods. Inis-huna fent her youths, but they failed ; and virgins wept over tombs. Carelefs went Fin- gal to Culdarnu. On his fpear rolled the ftrength of the woods. He was bright, they faid, in his locks, the firft of mortal men. Nor at the feaft were heard his words. His deeds paffed from his foul of fire, like the rolling of vapours from the face of the wandering fun. Not carelefs looked the blue eyes of Cluba on
diftinguifhing property muft, in fome meafure, be afcribed to their unmixed blood. They had no inducement to in- termarry with the vulgar : and no low notions of intereft made them deviate from their choice, in their own fphere. In ftates where luxury has been long eftablifhed, beauty of perfon is, by no means, the characleriftic of antiquity of family. This muft be attributed to thofe enervating vices which are infeparable from luxury and wealth. A great family, (to alter a little the words of the hiftorian,) it is true, like a river, becomes confiderable from the length of its courfe, but, as it rolls on, hereditary diftempers, as well as property, flow fucceftively into it,
M 3 his
166 SUL-MALLA of LtTMON:
his ftately fteps. In white bofoms rofe the king of Selma, in the midft of their thoughts by night. But the winds bore the ftranger to the echoing vales of his roes. Nor loft to other lands was he, like a meteor that finks in a cloud. He came forth, at times, in his bright- nefs, to the diftant dwelling of foes. His fame came, like the found of winds, to Clu* ba's woody vale *."
" Darknefs dwells in Cluba of harps : the race of kings is diftant far ; in battle is my
* Too partial to our own times, we are ready to mark cut remote antiquity, as the region of ignorance and bar- barian. This, perhaps, is extending our prejudices too far. It has been long remarked, that knowledge, in a great meafure, is founded on a free intercourfe between man- kind ; and that the mind is enlarged in proportion to the obfervations it has made upon the manners of different men and nations If we look, with attention, into the hiftory of Fingal, as delivered by Oflian, we fhall find that he was not altogether a poor ignorant hunter, confined to the narrow corner of an ifland. His expeditions to all parts of Scandinavia, to the north of Germany, and the different dates of Great Britain and Ireland, were very numerous, and performed under fuch a character, and at fuch times, as gave him an opportunity to mark the undif- guifed manners of mankind. War and an active life, as they call forth, by turns, all the powers of the foul, pre- fent to us the different characters of men : in times of peace and quiet, for want of objects to exert them, the powers of the mind lie concealed, in a great meafure, and we fee only artificial pa (lions and manners. It is from this confideration I conclude, that a traveller of penetra- tion could gather more genuine knowledge from a tour of ancient Gaul, than from the minuted obfervation of all the artificial manners and elegant refinements of modern France.
father
A POEM. 167
father Conmor ; and Lormar * my brother, king of ftreams. Nor darkening alone are they ; a beam from other lands is nigh ; the friend of ftrangers f in Atha the troubler of the field. High from their mifty hills, look forth the blue eyes of Erin ; for he is far away, young dweller of their fouls ! Nor, harmlefs, white hands of Erin ! is Cathmor in the fkirts of war ; he rolls ten thoufand be- fore him, in his diftant field."
" Not unfeen by Ofiian," I faid, " ruflied Cathmor from his ftreams, when he poured his ftrength on I-thorno J, ifle of many waves ! In ftrife met two kings in I-thorno, Culgorm and Suran-dronlo : each from his echoing ifle, ftern hunters of the boar !"
* Lormar was the fon of Conmor, and the brother of Sul-malla. After the death of Conmor, Lormar fuc- ceeded him in the throne.
f Cathmor, the fon of Borbar-duthal. It would ap- pear from the partiality with which Sul-malla fpeaks of that hero, that (he had feen him, previous to his joining her father's army ; though tradition pofitively afferts, that it was after his return that (he fell in love with him.
J I-thorno, fays tradition, was an ifland of Scandinavia. In it, at a hunting party, met Culgorm and Suran-dronlo, the kings of two neighbouring ifles. They differed about the honour of killing a boar ; and a war was kindled be- tween them. From this epifode we may learn, that the manners of the Scandinavians were much more favage and cruel than thofe of Britain. It is remarkable, that the names introduced in this ftory are not of Galic ori- ginal, which circumftance affords room to fuppofe, that it had its foundation in true hiftory.
m 4 * They
r6S SUL-MALLA of LUMON:
Ci They met a boar, at a foamy ftream : each pierced him with his fpear. They itrove for the fame of the deed ; and gloomy battle rofe. From ifle to ifle they fent a fpear, broken and ftained with blood, to call the friends of their fathers, in their founding arms, Cath- mor came, from Erin, to Culgorm, red-eyed king : I aided Suran-dronlo, in his land of boars."
" We rufhed on either fide of a ftream, which roared through a blafted heath. High broken rocks were round, with all their bend- ing trees. Near were two circles of Loda, with the Hone of power ; where fpirits de- fended, by night, in dark-red ftreams of lire. There, mixed with the murmur of waters, rofe the voice of aged men ; they called the forms of night, to aid them in their war."
" Heedlefs * I flood, with my people, where fell the foamy ftream from rocks. The moon moved red from the mountain. My fong, at times, arofe. Dark, on the other fide, young Cathmor heard my voice ; for he lay, beneath the oak, in all his gleaming arms. Morning came ; we rufhed to fight : from wing to wing
* From the circumftance of Oman not being prefent at the rites dcfcribed in the preceding paragraph, we may fuppofe that he held them in contempt. This difference of fentiment with regard to religion, is a fort of argu- ment, that the Caledonians were not originally a colony of Scandinavians, as fome have imagined. Concerning f6 remote a period, mere conjecture muft fupply the place of argument and pofitive proofs.
A. P O E M. 169
is the rolling of ftrife. They fell like the thiftle's head, beneath autumnal winds."
" In armour came a (lately form : I mixed my ftrokes with the chief. By turns our ihields are pierced : loud rung our fteelly malls. His helmet fell to the ground. In brightnefs Ihone the foe. His eyes, two pleafant flames, rolled between his wandering locks. I knew Cathmor of Atha, and threw my fpear on earth. Dark, we turned, and filent paffed to mix with other foes."
" Not fo pafled the ftriving kings *. They mixed in echoing fray : like the meeting of ghofta, in the dark wing of winds. Through either breaft rufhed the fpears ; nor yet lay the foes on earth ! A rock received their fall ; half- reclined they lay in death. Each held the lock of his foe ; each grimly feemed to roll his eyes. The flream of the rock leapt 011 their ihields, and mixed below with blood.
" The battle ceafed in I-thorno. The ftrangers met in peace : Cathmor from Atha of ftreams, and Oflian, king of harps. We placed the dead in earth. Our fteps were by Runar's bay. With the bounding boat, afar, advanced a ridgy wave. Dark was the rider of feas, but a beam of light was there, like the ray of the fun, in Stromlo's rolling fmoak. It
* Culgorm and Suran-dronlo. The combat of the kings and their attitude in death are highly picturcfque, and expreflive of that ferocity of manners which diftin- guifhed the northern nations.
was
170 SUL-MALLA o* LUMON:
was the daughter * of Suran-dronlo, wild in brightened looks. Her eyes were wandering flames, amidft difordered locks. Forward is her white arm, with the fpear ; her high
* Tradition has handed down the name of this prin- cefs. The bards call her Runo-forlo, which has no other fort of title for being genuine, but its not being of Galic original ; a diflinclion which the bards had not the art to preferve, when they feigned names for foreigners. The highland fenachies, who very often endeavoured to fupply the deficiency they thought they found in the tales of Oman, have given us the continuation of the ftory of the daughter of Suran-dronlo. The cataftrophe is fo unna- tural, and the circumftances of it fo ridiculoufly pom- pous, that, for the fake of the inventors, I mall con- ceal them.
The wildly beautiful appearance of Runo-forlo made a deep imprefhon on a chief, fome ages ago, who was himfelf no contemptible poet. The ftory is romantic, but not incredible, if we make allowances for the lively ima- gination of a man of genius. Our chief failing, in a ftorm, along one of the iflands of Orkney, faw a woman, in a boat, near the more, whom he thought, as he ex- prefies it himfelf, as beautiful as afudden ray of the fun > on the dark heaving deep. The verfes of Oflian, on the atti- tude of Runo-forlo, which was fo fimilar to that of the woman in the boat, wrought fo much on his fancy, that he fell defperately in love. The winds, however, drove him from the coaft, and, after a few days, he arrived at his residence in Scotland. There his pailion increafed to fuch a degree, that two of his friends, fearing the confe- quence, failed to the Orkneys, to carry to him the object of hisdeflre. Upon inquiry they foon found the nymph, and carried her to the enamoured chief ; but mark his furprize, when, inftead of a ray of the fun, he faw a Ikinny fifherwoman, more than middle aged, appearing before him. Tradition here ends the ftory : but it may be eafily fuppofed that the pailion of the chief foon fub- fided.
4 heaving
A POEM. 171
heaving bread is feen, white as foamy waves that rife, by turns, amidft rocks. They are beautiful, but terrible, and mariners call the winds !"
" Come, ye dwellers of Loda !" fhe faid, •* come, Carchar, pale in the midft of clouds ! Sluthmor that ftrideft in airy halls ! Corchtur, terrible in winds ! Receive, from his daugh- ter's fpear, the foes of Suran-dronlo. No fhadow, at his roaring ftreams ; no mildly- looking form was he ! When he took up his fpear, the hawks fhook their founding wings : for blood was poured around the fteps of dark- eyed Suran-dronlo. He lighted me, no harm- lefs beam, to glitter on his ftreams. Like me- teors, I was bright, but I Mailed the foes of Suran-dronlo."
*******
Nor unconcerned heard Sul-malla, the praife of Cathmor cf fhields. He was within her foul, like a rire in fecret heath, which awakes at the voice of the blaft, and fends its beam abroad. Amidft the fong removed the daugh- ter of kings, like the voice of a fummer-breeze ; when it lifts the heads of flowers, and curls the lakes and ftreams. The ruftling found gently fpreads o'er the vale, foftly-pleafing as it faddens the foul.
By night came a dream to (Mian ; formlefs flood the fhadow of Trenmor. He feemed to ftrike the dim fhield, on Selma's ftreamy rock. I rofe, in my rattling fteel j I knew that war
was
172 SUL.MALLA of LUMON.
was near, before the winds our fails were fpread ; when Lumon fhewed its ftreams to the morn.
Come from the watching of night, Malvina, lonely beam !
THE
WAR of INIS-THONA
A
POEM.
ARGUMENT.
Reflexions on the poet's youth. An apoftrophe to Selma. Ofcar obtains leave to go to Inis-thona, an ifland of Scandinavia. The mournful ftory of Argon and Ruro, the two fons of the king of Inis-thona. Ofcar re- venges their death, and returns in triumph to Selma. A foliloquy by the poet himfelf.
[ «75 ] THE
WAR of INIS-THONA
E M.
/^vur youth is like the dream of the hunter ^-^ on the hill of heath. He fleeps in the mild beams of the fun ; he awakes amidft a ftorm ; the red lightning flies around : trees fhake their heads to the wind ! He looks back with joy, on the day of the fun ; and the plea- fant dreams of his reft ! When fhall Offian's youth return ? When his ear delight in the found of arms ? When fhall I, like Ofcar, tra- vel in the light of my fteel ? Come, with your ftreams, ye hills of Cona ! liften to the voice of Oflian. The fong rifes, like the fun, in my foul. I feel the joys of other times !
I behold thy towers, O Selma ! the oaks of thy (haded wall : thy ftreams found in my ear; thy heroes gather around. Fingal fits in the midft. He leans on the fhield of Tren- mor: hisfpear ftands againft the wall; he liftens to the fong of his bards. The deeds of his
arm
i7<5 The WAR of INIS-THONA:
arm are heard ; the a&ions of the king in his youth ! Ofcar had returned from the chafe, and heard the hero's praife. He took the fhield of Branno * from the wall ; his eyes were filled with tears. Red was the cheek of youth. His voice was trembling low. My fpear (hook its bright head in his hand : he fpoke to Morven's king.
" Fin gal ! thou king of heroes ! Oflian, next to him in war ! ye have fought in your youth ; your names are renowned in long. Ofcar is like the mift of Cona ; I appear and I vanifh away. The bard will not know my name. The hunter will not fearch in the heath for my tomb. Let me fight, O heroes, in the battles of Inis-thona. Diftant is the land of my war ! ye fhall not hear of Ofcar' s fall ! fome bard may find me there ; fome bard may give my name to fong. The daughter of the ftranger {hall fee my tomb, and weep over the youth, that came from afar. The bard mall fay, at the feaft, " hear the fong of Ofcar from the diftant land !"
" Ofcar," replied the king of Morven ; " thou (halt fight, fon of my fame ! Prepare my dark-bofomed fhip to carry my hero to Inis-thona. Son of my fon, regard our fame ; thou art of the race of renown ! Let not the
* This is Branno, the father of Everallin, and grand- father to Ofcar ; he was of Irifh extraction, and lord of the country round the lake of Lego. His great actions are handed down by tradition, and his hofpitality has palled into a proverb.
6 children
A P O E M. 177
children of ftrangers fay, feeble are the fons of Morven ! Be thou, in battle, a roaring ftorm : mild as the evening fun in peace ' Tell, Ofcar, to Inis-thona's king, that Fingal remembers his youth ; when we ftrove in the combat together, in the days of Agandecca."
They lifted up the founding fail ; the wind whittled through the thongs * of their mails. Waves laih the oozy rocks : the ftrength of ocean roars. My fon beheld, from the wave, the land of groves. He rufhed into Runa's founding bay, and fent his fword to Annir of fpears. The grey-haired hero rofe, when he faw the fword of Fingal. His eyes were full of tears ; he remembered his battles in youth. Twice had they lifted the fpear, before the lovely Agandecca : heroes ftood far diiiant, as if two fpirits were driving in winds.
*' But now," began the king, " I am old ; the fword lies ufelefs in my hall. Thou, who art of Morven's race ! Annir has ken the battle of fpears ; but now he is pale and wi- thered, like the oak of Lano. 1 have no fon to meet thee with joy, to bring thee to the halls of his fathers. Argon is pale in the tomb, and Ruro is no more. My daughter is in the hall of ftrangers : (lie longs to behold my tomb. Her fpoufe ihakes ten thoufand fpears ; he comes f a cloud of death from
Lano.
* Leather thongs were ufed among the Celtic nations, inftead of ropes.
f Cormalo had refolved on a war againft his father-in- law, Annir king of Inis-thona, in order to deprive him of
vol. 1. n his
i7$ The WAR of INIS-THONA:
Lano. Come, to fhare the feaft of Annir, fon of echoing Morven !"
Three days they feafted together; on the fourth, Annir heard the name of Ofcar. They rejoiced in the fhell *. They purfued the boars of Runa. Befide the fount of mofly {tones, the weary heroes reft. The tear fteals in fecret from Annir : he broke the rifing figh. " Here darkly reft," the hero faid, " the chil- dren of my youth. This ftone is the tomb of Ruro ; that tree founds over the grave of Ar- gon, Do ye hear my voice, O my fons, within your narrow houfe ? Or do ye fpeak in thefe ruftling leaves, when the winds of the defert rile r
" King of Inis-thona," faid Ofcar, " how fell the children of youth ? The wild boar rufhes over their tombs, but he does not dif- turb their repofe. They purfue deer j~ formed of clouds, and bend their airy bow. They
his kingdom : the injuftice of his defigns was fo much refented by Fingal, that he fent his grandfon, Ofcar, to the afiiftance of Annir. Both armies came foon to a battle, In which the conduct and valour of Ofcar obtained a complete victory. An end was put to the war by the death of Cormalo, who fell in a fingle combat, by Ofcar's hand. Thus is the ftory delivered down by tradition \ though the poet, to raife the character of his fon, makes Ofcar himfelf propofe the expedition.
* To rejoice in thejhell^ is a phrafe for feafting fump- tuouily and drinking freely.
f The notion of OiTian concerning the ftate of the de- ceafed, was the fame with that of the ancient Greeks and Romans. They imagined that the fouls purfued, in their feparate ftate, the employments and pieafures of their for- mer life.
iiiii
A P O E M. t7p
ftlll love the fport of their youth ; and mount the wind with joy.
" Cormalo," replied the king, " is a chief of ten thoufand fpears. He dwells at the wa- ters of Lano *, which fends forth the vapour of death. He came to Rura's echoing halls, and fought the honour of the fpear j\ The youth was lovely as the tirft beam of the fun ; few were they who could meet him in fight ! My heroes yielded to Cormalo : my daughter was feized in his love. Argon and Ruro re- turned from rhe chafe ; the tears of their pride defcend : they roll their filent eyes on Runa's heroes, who had yielded to a ftranger. Three days they feafted with Cormalo : on the fourth young Argon fought. But who could fight with Argon ! Cormalo is overcome. His heart fwelled with the grief of pride ; he refolved, in fecret, to behold the death of my fori. They went to the hills of Runa : they purfued the dark-brown hinds. The arrow of Cormalo flew in fecret ; my children fell in blood. He came to the maid of his love ; to Inis-thona's long-haired maid. They fled over the defert. Annir remained alone. Night came on, and day appeared : nor Argon's voice, nor Ruro's
* Lano was a lake of Scandinavia, remarkable, in the days of Offian, for emitting a peftilential vapour in au- tumn. And thou, O valiant Duchomar ! like the mift of tnarjhy Lano ; when it fails over the plaitis of autumn, and brings death to the hofl. Fingal, B. I.
f By the honour of the fpear, is meant the tournament practifed among the ancient northern nations*
N 2 came.
iSo The WAR of INIS-THONA:
came. At length their much-loved dog was ken ; the fleet and bounding Runa. He came into the hall and howled ; and feemed to look towards the place of their fall. We followed him : we found them here : we laid them by this mo fly ilream. This is the haunt of Annir, when the chafe of the hinds is paft. I bend like the trunk of an aged oak ; my tears for ever flow !"
" O Ronnan !" faid the rifmg Ofcar, " Ogar king of fpears ! call my heroes to my fide, the fons of ftreamy Morven. To-day we go to Lano's water, that fends forth the vapour of death. Cormalo will not long rejoice : death is often at the point of our fwords !"
They came over the defert like ftormy clouds, when the winds roll them along the heath : their edges are tinged with lightning ; the echoing groves forefee the ftorm ! The horn of Ofcar' s battle is heard ; Lano fhook over all its waves. The children of the lake convened around the founding fhield of Cor- malo. Ofcar fought, as he was wont in war, Cormalo fell beneath his fword : the fons of difmal Lano fled to their fecret vales ! Ofcar brought the daughter of Inis-thona to Annir's echoing halls. The face of age is bright with joy ; he bleft the king of fwords !
How great was the joy of Offian, when he beheld the diftant fail of his Ion ! it was like a cloud of light that rifes in the eaft, when the traveller is fad in a land unknown ; and difmal nirht, with her ghofts, is fitting around in
{hades !
A POEM. 181
fliades ! We brought him with fongs to Sel- ma's halls. Fingal fpread the feaft of fhells. A thoufand bards raifed the name of Ofcar : Morven anfwered to the found. The daugh- ter of Tofcar was there ; her voice was like the harp ; when the diftant found comes, in the evening, on the foft-ruftling breeze of the vale I O lay me, ye that fee the light, near fome rock of my hills ! let the thick hazels be around, let the ruftling oak be near. Green be the place of my reft ; let the found of the diftant torrent be heard. Daughter of Tofcar, take the harp, and raife the lovely fong of Selma ; that fleep may overtake my foul in the midft of joy ; that the dreams of my youth may re- turn, and the days of the mighty Fingal. Selma ! I behold thy towers, thy trees, thy {haded wall ! I fee the heroes of Morven ; I hear the fong of bards ; Ofcar lifts the fword of Cormalo ; a thoufand youths admire its ftudded thongs. They look with wonder on my fori : they admire the ftrength of his arm. They mark the joy of his father's eyes ; they long for an equal fame. And ye mail have your fame, O fons of ftreamy Morven ! My ibul is often brightened with fong ; I remem- ber the friends of my youth. But ileep de- fcends in the found of the harp ! pleafant dreams begin to rife ! Ye fons of the chafe, ftand far diftant, nor difturb my reft. The bard of other times holds difcourfe with his fathers ! the chiefs of the days of old ! Sons of the chafe, ftand far diftant ! difturb not the dreams of Oftian !
n 3
THE
SONGS
OF
S E L M A
N 4
ARGUMENT.
Addrefs to the evening ftar. Apoftrophe to Fingal and his times. Minona fings before the king the fong of the unfortunate Colma \ and the baids exhibit other fpeci- mens of their poetical talents •, according to an annual cuftom eftabliftied by the monarchs of the ancient Cale- donians.
C us 3
THE
SONGS of SELMA.
S
TAR of defcending night ! fair is thy light in the well! thou lifteft thy un (horn head from thy cloud : thy {reps are ftately on thy hill. What doft thou behold in the plain I The ftormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the diftant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wines ; the hum of their courfe is on the field. What doll thou behold, fair light ? But thou doft fmile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee : they bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou filent beam ! Let the light of Oflian's foul ariie !
And it does ariie in its ftrength ! I behold my departed friends. Their gathering is on Lora, as in the days of other years. Fingal comes lfkes a watry column of mift ! his he- roes are around : and fee the bards of fong, grey haired Ullin ! ftately Ryno ! Alpin *,
* Alpin is from the fame root with Albion, or rather Albin, trie ancient name of Britain ; Alp, high IJland, or country. The prefent name of our iiland has its origin in the Celtic tongue ; fo that thofe who derived it from any other betrayed their ignorance of the ancient lan- guage of our country. Brail or Braid, extenfive j and in, land.
with
1 86 The SONGS of SELMA.
with the tuneful voice ! the foft complaint of Minona ! How are ye changed, ray friends, fince the days of Selrna's feaft ? when we contended, like gales of fpring, as they fly along the hill, and bend by turns the feebly- whittling grafs.
Minona * came forth in her beauty ; with down-call look and tearful eye. Her hair flew flowly on the blaft, that rufhed unfrequentfrom the hill. The fouls of the heroes were fad when fhe raifed the tuneful voice. Often had they (cen the grave of Salgar *f, the dark dwel- ling of white- bofomed Colma J. Colma left alone on the hill, with all her voice of fong ! Salgar promifed to come : but the night de- fcended around. Hear the voice of Colma, when fhe fat alone on the hill !
Colma.
It is night ; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of ftorms. The wind is heard on the moun- tain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain ; forlorn on the hill of winds !
Rife, moon ! from behind thy clouds. Stars of the night, arife ! Lead me, fome light, to the place, where my love refts from the chafe
* Ofiian introduces Minona, not in the ideal fcene in his own mind, which he had described 5 but at the annual feaft of Selma, where the bards repeated their works be* fore Fingal.
-j- Sealg-'er, a hunter.
% Cul-math, a woman with Jim hair,
alone !-
The SONGS of SELMA. 187
alone ! his bow near him, unftrung : his dogs panting around him. But here I mud fit alone, by the rock of the moffy dream. The dream and the wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love ! Why delays my Salgar, why the chief of the hill, his promife ? Here is the rock, and here the tree ! here is the roaring dream ! Thou didd promife with night to be here. Ah ! whither is my Salgar gone ? With thee I would fly, from my father ; with thee, from my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes ; we are not foes, O Salgar 1
Ceafe a little while, O wind ! dream, be thou filent a while ! let my voice be heard around. Let my wanderer hear me ! Salgar ! it is Colma who calls. Here is the tree, and the rock. Salgar, my love ! I am here. Why delayed thou thv coming ? Lo ! the calm moon comes forth. The flood is bright in the vale. The rocks are grey on the deep. I fee him not on the brow. His dogs come not before him, with tidings of his near approach. Here I mud fit alone !
Who lie on the heath befide me ? Are they my love and my brother ? Speak to me, O my friends ! To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me : I am alone ! My foul is tormented with fears ! Ah ! they are dead ! Their fwords are red from the fight. O my brother 1 my brother ! why had thou flain my Salgar ? why, O Salgar ! had thou flain my brother ? Dear were ye both to me ! what mail I fay in your praife ? Thou wert fair on the hill among
thousands !
188 The SONGS of SELMA.
thoufands ! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me ; hear my voice ; hear me, fons of my love ! They are filent ; filent for ever ! Cold, cold are their breafts of clay ! Oh ! from the rock on the hill ; from the top of the windy fteep, fpeak, ye ghofts of the dead ! fpeak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are ye gone to reft ? In what cave of the hill mall I find the departed ? No feeble voice is on the gale : no anfwer half-drowned in the ftorm !
I fit in my grief; I wait for morning in my tears ! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Clofe it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream : why mould I flay behind ? Here mall I reft with my friends, by the ftream of the founding rock. When night comes on the hill ; when the lend winds arife ; my ghoft mall ftand in the blaft, and mourn the death of my friends. The hunter mail hear from his booth. He mail fear but love my voice ! For fweet fhall my voice be for my friends : pleafant were her friends to Colma !
Such was thy fong, Minona, foftly-bluihing daughter of Torman. Our tears defcended for Colma, and our fouls were fad ! Ullin came with his harp ! he gave the fong of AI- pin. The voice of Alpin was pleafant : the foul of Ryno was a beam of fire ! But they had refted in the narrow houfe : their voice had ceafed in Selma. Ullin had returned, one day, from the chafe, before the heroes fell. He heard the:r ftrife on the hill ; their fong was foft but fad ! They mourned the fall of Morar,
firft
The SONGS of SELMA. 189
firft of mortal men ! His foul was like the foul of Fingal ; his fword like the fvvord of Ofcar. But he fell, and his father mourned : his fitter's eyes were full of tears. Minona's eyes were full of tears, the fifter of car-borne Morar. She retired from the fong of Ullin, like the moon in the weft, when fhe forefees the fhower, and hides her fair head in a cloud. I touched the harp with Uiiin ; the fong of mourning rofe !
Ryno.
The wind and the rain are paft : calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in hea- ven. Over the green hills flies the inconftant fun, Red through the ftony vale comes down the ftream of the hill. Sweet are thy mur- murs, O ftream ! but more fweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin, the fon of fong, mourning for the dead ! Bent is his head of age ; red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou fon of fong, why alone on the filent hili ? why complaineft thou, as a blaft in the wood ; as a wave on the lonely fhore ?
Alpin.
My tears, O Ryno I are for the dead ; my voice for thofe that have paffed away. Tall thou art on the hill ; fair among the fons of the vale. But thou fhalt fall like Morar * j
* Mor-er, great ma?}.
the
190 The SONGS of SELMA.
the mourner fhall fit on thy tomb. The hills {hall know thee no more ; thy bow fhali lie in thy hall unftrung !
Thou wert fwift, O Morar ! as a roe on the defart ; terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the ftorm. Thy fword in bat- tle, as lightning in the field. Thy voice was a ftream after rain ; like thunder on diftant hills. Many fell by thy arm ; they were con- fumed in the flames of thy wrath. But when thou didft return from war, how peaceful was thy brow ! Thy face was like the fun after rain ; like the moon in the filence of night ; cairn as the breaft of the lake when the loud wind is laid.
Narrow is thy dwelling now ! dark the place of thine abode ! With three fteps I compafs thy grave, O thou who waft fo great before ! Four ftones, with their heads of mofs, are the only memorial of thee. A tree with fcarce a leaf, long grafs, which whiftles in the wind,, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar ! thou art low indeed. Thou haft no mother to mourn thee ; no maid with her tears of love. Dead is fhe that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Mor- gan.
Who on his ftaff is this ? who is this, whofe head is white with age ? whofe eyes are red with tears ? who quakes at every ftep ? It is thy father *, O Morar ! the father of no fon
* Tor man, the fon of Carthul, lord of I- mora, one of the we (tern ifles.
but
The SONGS of SELMA. iot
but thee. He heard of thy fame in war ; he heard of foes difperfed. He heard of Mo- rar's renown ; why did he not hear of his wound ? Weep, thou father of Morar ! weep ; but thy fon heareth thee not. Deep is the fleep of the dead ; low their pillow of duft. No more fhall he hear thy voice ; no more awake at thy call. When fhall it be morn in the grave, to bid the flumberer awake ? Farewel, thou braveft of men ! thou conqueror in the field ! but the field fhall fee thee no more ; nor the dark wood be lightened with the fplendour of thy fteel. Thou haft left no fon. The fong fhall preferve thy name. Future times fhall hear of thee ; they fhall hear of the fal- len Morar !
The grief of all arofe, but mofl the burfting figh of Armin *• He remembers the death of his fon, who fell in the days of his youth. Carmor f was near the hero, the chief of the echoing Galmal. Why burfts the figh of Ar- min ? he faid. Is there a caufe to mourn ? The fong comes, with its mufic, to melt and pleafe the foul. It is like foft mid, that, riling from a lake, pours on the filent vale ; the green flowers are filled with dew, but the fun returns in his ftrength, and the mift is gone. Why art thou fad, O Armin, chief of fea-furrounded Gorma ?
* Armin, a hero. He was chief or petty king of Gorma, i. e. the blue ijland% fuppofed to be one of the He- brides.
f Cear-mor, a tall dark-complexioned man,
3 Sad!
192 The SONGS of SELMA.
Sad ! I am ! nor fmall is my caufe of woe! Carmor, thou haft loft no fon ; thou haft loft no daughter of beauty. Colgar the valiant lives ; and Annira faireft maid. The boughs of thy houfe afcend, O Carmor ! but Armin is the laft of his race. Dark is thy bed, O Daura ! deep thy fleep in the tomb ! When malt thou awake with thyfongs? with all thy voice of mufic ?
Arife, winds of autumn, arife ; blow along the heath ! ftrearns of the mountains roar ! roar, tempefts, in the groves of my oaks ! walk through broken clouds, O moon ! fhow thy pale face, at intervals ! bring to my mind the night, when all my children fell ; when Arindal the mighty fell ; when Daura the lovely failed ! Daura, my daughter ! thou wert fair ; fair as the moon on Fura * ; white as the driven fnow ; fweet as the breathing gale. Arindal, thy bow was ftrong. Thy fpear was fwift in the field. Thy look was like mift on the wave : thy fhield, a red cloud in a ftorm. Armar, renowned in war, came, and fought Daura's love. He was not long refufed : fair was the hope of their friends !
Erath, fon of Odgal, repined : his brother had been flain by Armar. He came difguifed like a fon of the fea : fair was his fkifF on the wave ; white his locks of age ; calm his ferious brow. Faireft of women, he faid, lovely daughter of Armin ! a rock not diftant
* Fuar-a, coldijland.
7 in
The SONGS of SELMA. 193
in the fea, bears a tree on its fide ; red fhines the fruit afar 1 There Armar waits for Daura. I come to carry his love ! She went ; fhe called on Armar. Nought anfwered, but the * fon of the rock, Armar, my love ! my love 1 why tormentefl: thou me with fear ? hear, fon of Arnart, hear : it is Daura who calleth thee ! Erath the traitor fled laughing to the land. She lifted up her voice ; fhe called for her brother and her father. Arindal ! Armin i none to relieve your Daura !
Her voice came over the fea. Arindal my fori defcended from the hill ; rough in the fpoils of the chafe. His arrows rattled by his fide ; his bow was in his hand : five dark grey dogs attend his fteps. He faw fierce Erath on the fhore : he feized and bound him to an oak. Thick wind the thongs *f of the hide around his limbs ; he loads the wind with his groans. Arindal afcends the deep in his boat, to bring Daura to land. Armar came in his wrath, and let fly the grey- feathered fhaft. It fung ; it funk in thy heart, O Arindal my fon ! for Erath the traitor thou diedft. The oar is (lopped at once ; he panted on the rock and expired. What is thy grief, O Daura, when
* By the fon of the rock the poet means the echoing back of the human voice from a rock. The vulgar were of opinion, that this repetition of found was made by a fpirit within the rock ; and they, on that account, called it mac talla \ the fon who d-we/Is in the rock.
f The poet here only means that Erath was bound with taathern thongs.
vol. i. o round
i94 The SONGS of SELMA,
round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood ! The boat is broken in twain. Armar plunges into the fea, to refcue hk Daura, or die. Sud- den a blaft from the hill came 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. What could her father do ? All night I flood on the fhore. I faw her by the faint beam of the moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind ; the rain beat hard on the hill. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak, It died away, like the evening-breeze among the grafs of the rocks. Spent with grief fhe expired ; and left thee, Armin, alone. God is my ftrength in war ! fallen my pride among women ! When the ftorms aloft arife ; when the north lifts the wave on high ; I fit by the founding more, and look on the fatal rock. Often by the fet- ting moon, I fee the ghofts of my children. Half-viewJefs, they walk in mournful con- ference together. Will none of you fpeak in pity ? They do not regard their father. I am fad, O Carmor, nor fmall is my caufe of woe !
Such were the words of the bards in the days of fong; when the king heard the mufic of harps, the tales of other times ! The chiefs gathered from all their hills, and heard the lovely found. They praifed the voice * of Cona ! the firft among a thoufand bards ! But
* Oflian is fometimes poetically called the voice of Cona.
age
The SONGS of SELMA. 195
age is now on my tongue; my foul has failed ! I hear, at times, the ghofts of bards, and learn their pleafant fong. But memory fails on my mind. I hear the call of years ! They fay, as they pafs along, why does Offian fing ? Soon mall he lie in the narrow houfe, and no bard fhall raife his fame ! Roll on, ye dark-brown years ; ye bring no joy on your courfe ! Let the tomb open to Offian, for his ftrength has failed. The fons of fong are gone to reft. My voice remains, like a blaft, that roars, lonely, on a fea-furrounding rock, after the winds are laid. The dark mofs whittles there ; the diftant mariner fees the waving trees !
o 2
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM.
In SIX BOOKS.
o 3
ARGUMENT to Book I.
Cuthullin (general of the Irifli tribes, in the minority of Cormac, king of Ireland) fitting alone beneath a tree, at the gate of Tura, a caftle of Ulfter (the other chiefs having gone on a hunting party to Cromla, a neigh- bouring hill), is informed of the landing of Swaran, king of Lochlin, by Moran, the fon of Fithil, one of hisfcouts* He convenes the chiefs *, a council is held, and difputesrun high about giving battle to the enemy. Connal, the petty king of Togorma, and an intimate friend of Cuthullin, was for retreating, till Fingal, king of thofe Caledonians who inhabited the north- weft coaft of Scotland, whofe aid had been previoufly folicited, (hould arrive ; but Calmar, the fon of Matha, lord of Lara, a country in Connaught, was for enga- ging the enemy immediately. Cuthullin, of himfelf willing to fight, went into the opinion of Calmar. Marching towards the enemy, he miffed three of his braved heroes, Fergus, Duchomar, and Cathba. Fer- gus arriving, tells Cuthullin of the de^th of the two other chiefs ; which introduces the affecting epifode of Morna, the daughter of Cormac. The army of Cuth- ullin is defcried at a diftance by Swaran, who fent the fon of An 10 to obferve the motions of the enemy, while he himfelf ranged his forces in order of battle. The fon of Arno returning to Swaran, defcribes to him Cuthullin's chariot, and the terrible appearance of that hero The armies engage, but night coming on, leaves the victory undecided. Cuthullin, according to the hofpitality of the times, fends to Swaran a formal in- vitation to a fealt, by his bard Carril, the fon of Kin- fena. Swaran refufes to come Carril relates to Cuth- ullin the llory of Grudar and Braffblis. A party, by Conal's advice, is fent to obferve the enemy ; which doim the action of the firft day.
C '99 ]
I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM.
In SIX BOOKS.
BOOK I.
Cuthullin * fat by Tura's wall : by the tree of the ruftling found. His fpear leaned againft a rock. His fhield lay on grafs,
* Cuthullin the fon of Semo and grandfon to Caith- bat, a druid celebrated in tradition for his wifdom and va- lour. Cuthullin when very young married Bragela the -daughter of Sorglan, and palling over into Ireland, lived fome time with Connal, grandfon by a daughter to Con- gal the petty king of Ulfter. His wifdom and valour in a fhort time gained him fuch reputation, that in the mino- rity of Cormac the fupreme king of Ireland, he was chofen guardian to the young king, and fole manager of the war againft Swaran king of Lochlin. After a feries of great actions he was killed in battle fomewhere in Connaught, in the twenty- feventh year of his age. He was fo remarkable for his ftrength, that to defcribe a ftrong man it has panned into a proverb, " He has the ftrength of Cuthullin." They (hew the remains of his palace at Dunfcaich in the Ifle of Skye ; and a ftone to which he bound his dog Luath, goes ftill by his name.
04 by
200 F I N G A L, Book I.
by his fide. Amid his thoughts of mighty Carbar *, a hero flain by the chief in war ; the fcout j~ of ocean comes, Moran J the fon of Fithii !
" Arife," fays the youth, " Cuthullin, arife. I fee the fhips of the north ! Many, chief of men, are the foe. Many the heroes of the fea-borne Swaran !" " Moran I" replied the blue-eyed chief, " thou ever trembleft, fon of Fithii ! Thy fears have increafed the foe. It is Fingal, king § of deferts, with aid to green Erin of dreams." " I beheld their chief," fays Moran, " tall as a glittering rock. His
* Cairbar or Cairbre, lignifies ajlrong man,
f Cuthullin having previous intelligence of the in- vafion intended by Swaran, fent fcouts all over the coaft of Ullin or Ulfter, to give early notice of the firft appearance of the enemy, at the fame time that he fent Munan the fon of Stirmai to implore the affiftance of Fingal. He himfelf collected the flower of the Irifli youth to Tura, a caftle on the coaft, to flop the progrefs of the enemy till Fingal mould arrive from Scotland. We may conclude from Cuthuilin's applying fo early for foreign aid, that the Irifli were not then fo numerous as they have fince been ; which is a great prefumption againft the high antiquities of that people. We have the teilimony of Tacitus, that one legion only was thought fufheient, in the time of Agricola, to reduce the whole ifland under the Roman voice ; which would not probably have been the cafe had the ifland been inhabited for any number of centuries be- fore.
% Moran fignifies many \ and Fithii, or rather Fili, an Inferior bard.
§ Fingal the fon of Comhal and Morna the daughter of Thaddu. His grandfather was Trathal, and great grand- father Trenmor, both of whom are often mentioned in the poem.
fpear
Book I. AN EPIC POE M.
201
fpear is a blafted pine. His fhield the fifing moon ! He fat on the fhore I like a cloud of mid on the iilent hill ! Many, chief of he- roes ! I faid, Many are our hands of war. Well art thou named, the Mighty Man : but many mighty men are feen from Tura's windy walls."
" He ipoke, like a wave on a roek, who in this land appears like me ? Heroes (land not in my pretence : they fall to earth from my hand. Who can meet Swaran in fight ? Who but Fingal, king of Selma of ftorms ? Once we wreftled on Malmor * ; our heels overturned the woods. Rocks fell from their place ; ri- vulets, changing their courfe, fled murmuring from our fide* Three days we renewed the ftrife ; heroes flood at a diilance and trembled. On the fourth, Fingal fays, that the king of the ocean fell ! but Swaran fays, he flood ! Let dark Cuthullin yield to him, that is flrong as the ftorms of his land !"
" No !" replied the blue- eyed chief, " I never yield to mortal man ! Dark Cuthullin mail be great or dead ! Go, fori of Fithil, take my fpear. Strike the founding fhield of Se- mo f. It hangs at Tura's ruffling gate. The
* Meal-mor, a great hill.
f Cabait, or rather Cathbait, grandfather to the hero, was fo remarkable for his valour, that his fhield was made life of to alarm his pofterity to the battles of the family. We find Fingal making the fame ufe of his own fhield in the 4th book. A horn was the mod common inftrument to call the army together*
6 found
2o2 F I N G A L, Book I.
found of peace is not its voice ! My heroes fhall hear and obey." He went. He ftruck the boffy (hield. The hills, the rocks reply. The found fpreads along the wood : deer ftart by the lake of roes. Curach * leaps from the founding rock ; and Connal of the bloody fpear ! Crugal's t breaft of fnow beats high. The fori of Favi leaves the dark-brown hind. It is the fhield of war, laid Ronnar ! the fpear of Cuthullin, laid Lugar ! fon of the fea put on thy arms ! Calmar lift thy founding fteel ! Puno ! dreadful hero, arife ! Cairbar from thy red tree of Cromla ! Bend thy knee, O Eth ! defcenu from the ftreams of Lena. Ca-tol ftretch thy fide as thou moved along the whittling heath of Mora : thy fide that is white as the foam of the troubled fea, when the dark winds pour it on rocky Cuthon J.
Now I behold the chiefs, in the pride of their former deeds I Their fouls are kindled at the battles of old ; at the a&ions of other times. Their eyes are flames of fire. They roll in fearch of the foes of the land. Their mighty hands are on their fwords. Lightning pours from their fides of fteel. They come like ftreams from the mountains ; each rufhes roaring from his hill. Bright are the chiefs of battle, in the armour of their fathers. Gloomy and dark their heroes follow, like the gather-
# Curach fignifies the madnefs of battle.
■\ Cruth-geal , fair-complexioned.
J Cu-thon, the mournful found of ivaves.
ing
Book I. AN EPIC POEM. 203
ing of the rainy clouds behind the red me- teors of heaven. The founds of crafhing arms afcend. The grey dogs howl between. Unequal burfts the long of battle. Rocking Grbmla* echoes round. On Lena's dufky heath they ftand, like miR that (hades the hills of autumn : when broken and dark it fettles high, and lifts its head to heaven !
" Hail," faid Cuthullin, " fons of the nar- row vales ! hail, hunters of the deer ! Ano- ther fport is drawing near : It is like the dark rolling of that wave on the coall ! Or mall we fight, ye fons of war ! or yield green Erin f to Lochlin ! O Connal J lpeak, thou firft of men ! thou breaker of the fhields ! thou haft often fought with Lochlin : wilt thou lift thy father's fpear ?"
" Cuthullin .'" calm the chief replied, " the fpear of Connal is keen. It delights to mine in battle ; to mix with the blood of thoufands. But though my hand is bent on fight, my
* Crom-lcnch iignified a place of worfhip among the Druids. It is here the proper name of a hill on the coaft of Ullin or Ulfter.
f Ireland, fo called from a colony that fettled there called Falans. Lnis-fail, the ifland of the Fa-ii or Falans»
X Connal, the friend of Cuthullin, was the fon of Caith-bait prince of the Tongorma or the ij, 1 -and of blue waves, proi of the Hebrides. His mother was
Fioncoma 1 . Congah He had a fon by Foba of
Conachai ho was afterwards petty king of Ulfter.
For his i. the war againft Swaran he had lands
conferre» lim, which, from his name, were called
Xir-cho iel,i. e\ the land of Connal.
heart
204 FINGAL, Book I.
heart is for the peace of Erin *. Behold, thou firft in Cormac's war, the fable fleet of Swa- ran. His mails are many on our coaft, like reeds in the lake of Lego. His fhips are forefts clothed with mifts, when the trees yield by turns to the fqually wind. Many are his chiefs in battle. Connal is for peace ! Fingal would fhun his arm the firft of mortal men ! Fingal, who fcatters the mighty, as ftormy winds the heath ; when flreams roar through echoing Cona : and night fettles with all her clouds on the hill !
" Fly, thou man of peace," faid Colmar f , " fly," faid the fon of Matha ; " go, Connal, to thy iiient hills, where the fpear never bright- ens in war ! Purfue the dark-brown deer of Cromla : flop with thine arrows the bounding roes of Lena. But, blue-eyed fon of Semo, Cuthullin, ruler of the field, fcatter thou the fons of Lochlin J ! roar through the ranks of their pride. Let no vefTel of the kingdom of Snow bound on the dark-rolling waves of Iniftore §. Rife, ye dark winds of Erin, rife ! roar whirlwinds of Lara of hinds ! Amid the temped let me die, torn, in a cloud, by angry
* Erin, a name of Ireland ; from ear or iar Wed, and in an ifland. This name was not always confined to Ire-* land, for there is the higheft probability that the lertie ol the ancients was Britain to the North of the Forth. For Ierne is faid to be the North of Britain, which could noC- be meant of Ireland. Strabo, 1. 2. & 4. CasaUB. 1. 1.
f Calm-er, ajlrong man.
% The Galic name of Scandinavia in general.
\ The Orkney illands.
ghofts
Book I. A N E P I C P O E M. 205
ghofts of men ; amid the tempeft let Calmar die, if ever chafe was (port to him, fo much as the battle of fhields !"
" Calmar !" Connal flow replied, " I never fled, young fon of Matha ! I was fwift with my friends in fight ; but fmall is the fame of Connal ! The battle was won in my prefence ; the valiant overcame ! But, fon of Semo, hear my voice, regard the ancient throne of Cor- mac. Give wealth and half the land for peace, till Fingal fhali arrive on our coaft. Or, if war be thy choice, I lift the fword and fpear. My joy (hall be in the midft of thoufands ; my foul fhall lighten through the gloom of the fight I"
" To me," Cuthullin replies, " pleafant is the noife of arms ! pleafant as the thunder of heaven^ before the fhower of fpring ! But gather all the fhining tribes, that I may view the fons of war ! Let them pafs along the heath, bright as the fun-fhine before a florm ; when the weft wind collects the clouds, and Morven echoes over all her oaks ! But where are my friends in battle ? The fupporters of my arm in danger ? Where art thou, white- bofomed Cathbar ? Where is that cloud in war, Duchomar * ? Haft thou left me, O Fergus f ! in the day of the ftorm ? Fergus, firft in our joy at the feaft ! fon of Rofla ! arm of death ! comeft thou like a roe from Malmor ? Like a
* Dubhchomar, a black ivell-made man f Fear guth, thf man of the word; or a commander of an army,
hart
206 F I N G A L, Book I.
hart from thy echoing hills ? Hail, thou fon of RofTa ! what fhades the foul of war ?"
" Four Hones *," replied the chief, " rife on the grave of Cathba. Thefe hands have laid in earth Duchomar, that cloud in war ! Cathba, fon of Torman ! thou wert a fun-beam in Erin. And thou, O valiant Duchomar ! a mift of the marfhy Lano ; when it moves on the plains of autumn, bearing the death of thou- fands along. Morna ! faireft of maids ! calm is thy fleep in the cave of the rock ! Thou haft fallen in darknefs, like a ftar, that moots acrofs the defert ; when the traveller is alone, and mourns the trannent beam !•'
iC Say," faid Semo's blue-eyed fon, " fay how fell the chiefs of Erin ? Fell they by the fons of Lochlin, flriving in the battle of he- roes ? Or what confines the ftrong in arms to the dark and narrow houfe ?"
" Cathba," replied the hero, " fell by the fword of Duchomar at the oak of the noify flreams. Duchomar came to Tura's cave ; he fpoke to the lovely Morna. Morna f, faireft
* This pafTage alludes to the manner of burial among the ancient Scots. They opened a grave fix or eight feet deep : the bottom was lined with fine clay •, and on this they laid the body of the deceafed, and, if a warrior, his fword, and the heads of twelve arrows by his fide. Above they laid another ftratum of clay, in which they placed the horn of a deer, the fymbol of hunting. The whole was covered with a fine mold, and four ftones placed on end to mark the extent of the grave. Thefe are the four (tones alluded to here.
f Muirne, or Morna, a woman beloved by all.
2 among
Book I. AN EPIC POEM. 207
among women, lovely daughter of ftrong- armed Cormac ! Why in the circle of ftones ? in the cave of the rock alone ? The ftream murmurs along. The old tree groans in the wind. The lake is troubled before thee ; dark are the clouds of the fky ! But thou art fnow on the heath ; thy hair is the mill of Cromla ; when it curls on the hill ; when it fhines to the beam of the weft ! Thy breads are two fmooth rocks feen from Branno of dreams. Thy arms, like two white pillars, in the halls of the great Fingal.
" From whence," the fair-haired maid re- plied, u from whence, Duchomar, moll gloomy of men ? Dark are thy brows and terrible ! Red are thy rolling eyes ! Does Swaran ap- pear on the Tea? What of the foe Duchomar ?" " From the hill 1 return, O Morna, from the hill of the dark-brown hinds. Three have I flain with my bended yew. Three with my long bounding dogs of the chafe. Lovely daughter of Cormac, I love thee as my foul ! I have flain one ftately deer for thee. High was his branchy head ; and fleet his feet of wind." " Duchomar!* calm the maid re- plied, " I love thee not, thou gloomy man ! hard is thy heart of rock ; dark is thy terrible browT. But Cathba, young fon of Torman *, thou art the love of Morna. Thou art a fun- beam, in the day of the gloomy florin. Saweft
* Torman, thunder. This is the true origin of the Jupiter Taramis of the ancients.
thou
2c8 F I N G A L, Book I.
thou the ion of Torman, lovely on the hill of his hinds ? Here the daughter of Cormac waits the coming of Cathba !"
" Long (hall Morna wait,5' Duchomar faid, " long ihall Morna wait for Cathba ! Behold this fwcrd unfheathed ! Here wanders the blood of Cathba. Long mail Morna wait. He fell by the ftream of Branno ! On Croma I will raife his tomb, daughter of blue-fhielded Cormac ! Turn on Duchomar thine eyes ; his arm is ftrong as a ftorm." " Is the fon of Torman fallen ?" faid the wildly burfting voice of the maid, " Is he fallen on his echoing hills, the youth with the bread of fnow ? The firft in the chafe of hinds ? The foe of the ftrangers of ocean ? Thou art dark * to me, Duchomar, cruel is thine arm to Morna ! Give me that fword, my foe ! I love the wandering blood of Cathba !"
He gave the fword to her tears. She pierced his manly breaft ! He fell, like the bank of a mountain-ftream, and ftretching forth his hand, he fpoke : " Daughter of blue-fhielded Cor- mac ! Thou haft ilain me in youth ! the fword is cold in my breaft : Morna, I feel it cold. Give me to Moina f the maid. Du- chomar was the dream of her night ! She will raife my tomb ; the hunter fhall raife my fame. But draw the fword from my breaft. Morna, the fteel is cold !" She came, in all
* She alludes to his name, the dark man. | Moina, foft in temper and per/on.
her
Book I. AN EPIC POEM. 209
her tears, (he came ; fhe drew the fword from his breaft. He pierced her white fide ! He fpread her fair locks on the ground ! Her burfting blood founds from her fide : her white arm is ftained with red. Rolling in death (he lay. The cave re-echoed to her fighs.
" Peace," faid Cuihullin, " to the fouls of the heroes ! their deeds were great in fight. Let them ride around* me on clouds. Let them fhew their features of war. My foul fhall then be firm in danger ; mine arm like the thunder of heaven ! But be thou on a moon-beam, O Morna ! near the window of my reft ; when my thoughts are of peace ; when the din of arms is pad. Gather the ftrength of the tribes ! Move to the wars of Erin ! Attend the car of my battles ! Rejoice in the noife of my courfe ! Place three fpears by my fide : follow the bounding of my fteeds ! That my foul may be ftrong in my friends, when battle darkens round the beams of my fteel !"
As nifties a ftream of foam from the dark fhady deep of Cromla ; when the thunder is travelling above, and dark-brown night fits on half the hill. Through the breaches of the tempeft look forth the dim faces of ghofts. So fierce, fo vaft, fo terrible ruftied on the fons of
# It was the opinion then, as indeed it is to this day, of fome of the Highlanders, that the fouls of the cfg* ceafed hovered round their living friends ; and fometirnes appeared to them when they were about to enter on any great undertaking.
vol., I. P Erin,,
2i9 F I N G A L, BookL
Erin. The chief, like a whale of ocean, whom all his billows purine, poured valour forth, as a ftream, rolling his might along the fhore. The fons of Lochlin heard the noife, as the found of a winter- ftorm. Swaran ftruck his boffy fhield : he called the fon of Arno, " What mur- mur rolls along the hill, like the gathered flies of the eve ? The fons of Erin defcend, or ruffling winds roar in the diftant wood 1 Such is the noife of Gormal, before the white tops of my waves arife. O fon of Arno i afcend the hill % view the dark face of the heath !"
He went. He, trembling, fwift returned. His eyes rolled wildly round. His heart beat high againft his fide. Elis words were faul- tering, broken, flow. " Arife, fon of ocean, arife, chief of the dark-brown fhields ! I fee the dark, the mountain-ftream of battle ! the deep-moving flrength of the fons of Erin ! The car, the car of war comes on, like the flame of death ! the rapid car of Cuthullin, the noble fon of Semo ! It bends behind like a wave near a rock ; like the fun-ftreaked mift of the heath. Its fides are emboffed with flones, and fparkle like the fea round the boat ef night. Of polifhed yew is its beam ; its feat of the fmootheft bone. The fides arere- plenifhed with fpears ; the bottom is the foot- ftool of heroes ! Before the right fide of the car is feenthe fnorting horfe I The high-maned, broad-breafted, proud, wide-leaping, ftrong fteed of the hill. Lcud and refounding is his hoof; the fpreading of his mane above is like
a ftream
BookIo AN EPIC POEM. 2ti
a ftream of fmofce on a ridge of rocks. Bright are the fides of the fteed ! his name is Sulin- Sifadda!"
" Before the left fide of the car is feen the fnorting horfe ! The thin-maned, high-headed, ftrong-hoofed, fleet, bounding fon of the hill : his name is Dufronnal, among the ftonny fons of the fword ! A thoafand thongs bind the car on high. Hard poliihed bits {nine in a wreath of foam. Thin thongs, bright-ftudded with gems, bend on the ftately necks of the fteeds. The fteeds that like wreaths of mifts fly over the ftreamy vales ! The wildnefs of deer is in their courfe, the ftrength of eagles defcending on their prey. Their noife is like the blaft of winter, on the iides of the fnow- headed Gormal.
" Within the car is feen the chief; the ftrong- armed fon of the fword. The hero's name is Cuthullin, fon of Semo king of fhells. His red cheek is like my poliihed yew. The look of his blue-rolling eye is wide, beneath the dark arch of his brow. His hair flies from his head like a flame, as bending forward he wields the fpear. Fly, king of ocean, fly ! He comes, like a ftorm, along the flreamy vale !"
«' When did I fly ?" replied the king. " When fled Swaran from the battle of fpears ? When did I (hrink from danger, chief of the little foul ? I met the ftorm of Gormal, when the foam of my waves beat high. I met the ftorm of the clouds ; (hall Swaran fly from P 2 a hero I
in F I N G A L, £ook1.
a hero ? Were Fingal himfelf before me, my foul fhould not darken with fear. Arife to battle, my thoufands ! pour round me like the echoing main. Gather round the bright fteel of your king ; ftrong as the rocks of my land ; that meet the ftorm with joy, and ftretch their dark pines to the wind !"
Like autumn's dark ftorms pouring from two echoing hills, toward each other approach- ed the heroes. Like two deep dreams from high rocks meeting, mixing, roaring on the the plain ; loud, rough, and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Inis-fail. Chief mixes hisftrokes with chief, and man with man ; fleel, clang- ing, founds on fteel. Helmets are cleft on high. Blood burfts and fmokes around. Strings murmur on the polimed yews. Darts rufh along the iky. Spears fall like the circles of light, which gild the face of night. As the noife of the troubled ocean, when roll the waves on high. As the laft peal of thunder ih heaven, fuch is the din of war ! Though Cbrrhac'S hundred bards were there to give the fight to fong ; feeble was the voice of a hun- dred bards to fend the deaths to future times ! "For many were the deaths of heroes ; wide poured the blood of the brave !
Mourn, ye ions of long, mourn the death of the noble Sithallin*. Let the fighs of Fiona rife, on the lone plains of her lovely
•• §itMUmijgnifies a handfome man \ Fiona, a fair maid j raid Ardan, pride.
Ardan.
Cook I. AN EPIC POEM. 213
Ardan. They fell, like two hinds of the de- fert, by the hands of the mighty Swaran ; when, in the midft of thoufands, he roared 5 like the fhrill fpirit of a ftorm. He fits dim, on the clouds of the north, and enjoys the death of the mariner. Nor flept thy hand by thy fide, chief of the ifle of mift * ! many were the deaths of thine arm, Cuthullin, thou fon of Semo ! His fword was like the beam of heaven when it pierces the fons of the vale ; when the people are blafted and fall, and all the hills are burning around. Dufron- nal f fnorted over the bodies of heroes. Si- fadda J bathed his hoof in blood. The battle lay behind them, as groves overturned on the defert of Cromla ; when the blaft has paffed the heath, laden with the fpirits of night !
Weep on the rocks of roaring winds, O maid of Iniftore § ! Bend thy fair head over
* The Ifle of Sky •, not improperly called the ijleof mifl, as its high hills, which catch the clouds from the weftern Ocean, occafion almoft continual rains.
f One of Cuthullin's horfes. Dubhftron gheal.
% Sith-fadda, i. e. a long Jlride.
$ The maid of Iniftore was the daughter of Gorlo king of Iniftore or Orkney iflands. Trenar was brother to the king of Inifcon, fuppofed to be one of the iflands of Shet- land. The Orkneys and Shetland were at that time fub- jecl: to the king of Lochlin. We find that the dogs of Trenar are fenfible at home of the death of their mafter, the very inftant he is killed. It was the opinion of the times, that the fouls of heroes went immediately after death to the hills of their country, and the icenes they frequented the mod happy time of their life. It was thought too that dogs and horfes faw the ghofts of the deceafed.
p 3 the
*M F I N G A L, Book. I.
the waves, thou lovelier than the ghofts of the hills ; when it moves in a fun-beam, at noon, over the filence of Morven ! He is fallen, thy youth is low ! pale beneath the fword of Cuth- ullin ! No more mail valour raiie thy love to match the blood of kings. Trenar, graceful Trenar died, O maid of Iniftore ! His grey dogs are howling at home ! they fee his pafling ghoft. His bow is in the hall unftrung. No found is in the hill of his hinds \
As roll a thoufand waves to the rocks, fo Swaran's hofi: came on. As meets a rock a thoufand waves, fo Erin met Swaran of fpears. Death raiies all his voices around, and mixes with the founds of Shields. Each hero is a. pillar of darknefs ; the fword a beam of fire in his hand. The held echoes from wing to wing, as a hundred hammers that rife, by turns, on the red fun of the furnace. Who are thefe on Lena's heath, thefe io gloomy and dark ? Who are thefe like two clouds, and their fwords like lightning above them ? The little hills are troubled around ; the rocks tremble with all their mofs. Who is it but Ocean's fon and the car-borne chief of Erin ? Many are the anxious eyes of their friends, as they fee them dim on the heath. But night con- ceals the chiefs in clouds, and ends the dread- ful fight !
It was on Cromla's fhaggy fide that Dorglas
had placed the deer * ; the early fortune ofv
the
* The ancient manner of preparing feafts after hunt- ing, is handed dov/n by tradition. A pit lined with fmooth
ft ones
Book I. AN EPIC POEM. 215
the chafe, before the heroes left the hill. A hun- dred youths collect the: heath ; ten warriors wake the fire 5 three hundred chufe the po- lifhed ftones. The feaft is fmoaking wide ! Cuthullin, chief of Erin's war, refumed his mighty foul. He flood upon his beamy fpear, and fpoke to the fon of fongs ; to Carril of other times, the grey-haired fon of Kinfenaf . " Is this feaft fpread for me alone and the king of Lochlin on Erin's fhore ; far from the deer of his hills, and founding halls of his feafts ? Rife, Carril of other times ; carry my words to Swaran. Tell him from the roaring of waters, that Cuthullin gives his feaft. Here let him liften to the found of my groves, amidft the clouds of night. For cold and bleak the bluftering winds rufh over the foam of his feas. Here let him praife the trembling harp, and hear the fongs of heroes !"
Old Carril went, with fofteft voice. He called the king of dark-brown fhields ! " Rife from thefkins of thy chafe, rife, Swaran, king of groves ! Cuthullin gives the joy of fhells. Partake the feaft of Erin's blue-eyed chief 1"
ftones was made ; and near it flood a heap of'fmooth flat ftones of the flint kind. The ftones as well as the pit were properly heated with heath. Then they laid fome venifon in the bottom, and a ftratum of the ftones above it ; and thus they did alternately till the pit was full. The whole was covered over with heath to confine the fteam. Whether this, is probable, I cannot fay ; but fome pits are fhewn, which the vulgar fay, were ufed in that manner.
t Cean-fenna, i. e. the head of the people*
p 4 He
2i6 F I N G A L, Book I.
He anfwered like the fulien found of Cromla before a ftorm. u Though all thy daughters, Inis-fail ! fhould flretch their arms of mow ; fhould raife the heavings of their breafts, and foftly roll their eyes of love ; yet, fixed as Lochlin's thoufand rocks, here Swaran fhould remain ; till morn, with the young beams of the eaft, mall light me to the death of Cuthul- lin. Pleafant to my ear is Lochlin's wind ! It ruflies over my feas ! It fpeaks aloft in ail my fhrouds, and brings my green forefts to my mind ; the green forefts of Gormal, which often echoed to my winds, when my fpear was red in the chafe of the boar. Let dark Cuthullin yield to me the ancient throne of Cormac ; or Erin's torrents mail fhew from their hills the red foam of the blood of his pride !"
" Sad is the found of Swaran's voice," faid Carril of other times ! " Sad to himfelf alone,'* faid the blue- eyed fon of Semo. " But, Car- ril, raife the voice on high ; tell flhe deeds of other times. Send thou the night away in fong ; and give the joy of grief. For many heroes and maids of love, have moved on Inis- fail : and lovely are the fongs of woe that are heard in Albion's rocks ; when the noife of the chafe is paft, and the ftreams of Conaan- fwer to the voice of (Mian *."
* The Cona here mentioned is that fmall river that runs through Glenco in Argylefhire. One of the hills •which environ that romantic valley is iiill called Scorna- fena, or the hill of Fingal's people.
" In
Book I. AN EPIC POEM. 217
" In other days *," Carril replies, " came the fons of Ocean to Erin ! a thoufand veffels bounded on waves to Ullin's lovely plains. The fons of Inis-fail arofe, to meet the race of dark- brown fhields. Cairbar, firft of men, was there, and Grudar, (lately youth ! Long had they ftrove for the fpotted bull, that lowed on Golbun's f echoing heath. Each claimed him as his own. Death was often at the point of their fleel ! Side by fide the heroes fought ; the ftrangers of Ocean fled. Whofe name was fairer on the hill, than the name of Cair- bar and Grudar ! But ah ! why ever lowed the bull, on Golbun's echoing heath. They faw him leaping like fnow. The wrath of the chiefs returned !"
On Lubar's J graffy banks they fought ; Grudar fell in his blood. Fierce Cairbar came to the vale, where Braflblis §, faireft of his fitters, all alone, raifed the fong of grief. She iung of the adions of Grudar, the youth of her fecret foul ! She mourned him in the field of blood ; but ftill fhe hoped for his re-
* This epifode is introduced with propriety. Calmar and Connal, two of the Irifh heroes, had difputed warmly before the battle about engaging the enemy. Carril en- deavours to reconcile them with the ftory of Cairbar and Grudar; who, though enemies before, fought fide by fide in the war. The poet obtained his aim, for we find Cal- mar and Connal perfectly reconciled in the third book.
f Golb-bhean, as well as Cromleach, fignifies a crooked hill.
X Lubar, a river in UHter. Labhar^ loud, noify.
J Braflblis iignifies a woman with a white breafu
turn,
218 F f N G A L, BookI*
turn. Her white bofom is feen from her robe, as the moon from the clouds of night, when its edge heaves white on the view, from the darknefs which covers its orb. Her voice was fofter than the harp to raife the fong of grief. Her foul was fixed on Grudar. The fecret look of her eye was his. " When fhalt thou come in thine arms, thou mighty in the war r
" Take, BrafTolis," Cairbar came and faid, " take, Braflblis, this fhield of blood. Fix it on high within my hall, the armour of my foe! Her foft heart beat againft her fide. Dif- fracted, pale, fhe flew. She found her youth in all his blood ; fhe died on Cromla's heath* Here refts their duft, Cuthullin ! thefe lonely yews fprung from their tombs, and fhade them from the florin. Fair was BrafTolis on the plain ! Stately was Grudar on the hill ! The bard fhall preferve their names, and fend them down to future times 1"
" Pleafant is thy voice, O Carril," faid the blue-eyed chief of Erin. " Pleafant are the words of other times ! They are like the calm fhower of fpring ; when the fun looks on the field, and the light cloud flies over the hills. O firike the harp in praife of my love, the lonely fun-beam of Dunfcaith ! Strike the harp in the praife of Brage'la ; fhe that I left in the Ifle of Mift, the fpoufe of Semo's fon ! Do ft thou raife thy fair face from the rock to find the fails of Cuthullin ? The fea is rolling diftaht far 3 its white foam deceives thee for
3 m7
Book I. AN EPIC POEM. ai&
my fails. Retire, for it is night, my love ; the dark winds fing in thy hair. Retire to the halls of my feafts ; think of the times that are paft. I will not return till the ilorm of war is ceafed. O Connal ! fpeak of war and arms, and fend her from my mind. Lovely with her flowing hair is the white-bofomed daugh- ter of Sorglan."
Connal, flow to fpeak, replied, " Guard again the race of Ocean. Send thy troop of night abroad, and watch the ftrength of Swaran. Cuthullin i I am for peace till the race of Selma come ; till Fingal come, the nrft of men, an4 beam, like the fun, on our fields !" The hero ftruck the fhield of alarms, the warriors of the night moved on ! The reft lay in the heath of the deer, and flept beneath the dufky wind. The ghofts * of the lately dead were near, and fwam on the gloomy clouds : and far diftant, in the dark filence of Lena, the feeble voices of death were faintly heard.
* It was long the opinion of the ancient Scots, that a, ghoft was heard fhrieking near the place where a death was to happen foon after. The accounts given, to this day, among the vulgar, of this extraordinary matter, are very poetical. The ghoft comes mounted on a me- teor, and furrounds twice or thrice the place deilined for the perfon to die ; and then goes along the road througk which the funeral is to pafs, fhrieking at intervals ; at laft, the meteor and ghoft difappear above the burial place.
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM, BOOK. II.
ARGUMENT to Book IL
The ghoft of Crugal, one of the Irifh heroes who wad killed in battle, appearing to Connal, fofetels the de- feat of Cuthullin in the next battle ; and earneftly ad- vifes him to make peace with Swaran. Connal com- municates the vifion ; but Cuthullin is inflexible ; from a principle of honour he would not be the firft to fue for peace, and he refolved to continue the war. Morn- ing comes ; Swaran propofes difhonourabie terms to Cuthullin, which are rejected. The battle begins, and is obftinately fought for lbme time, until, upon the flight of Grumal, the whole Irifh army gave way. €uthullin and Connal cover their retreat : Carril leads them to a neighbouring hill, whither they are foon fol- lowed by Cuthullin himfelf, who defcries the fleet of Fingal making towards the coafi: ; but, night coming on, he loft fight of it again. Cuthullin, dejected after his defeat, attributes his ill fuccefs to the death of Ferda his friend, whom he had killed fome time before. Car- ril, to fhew that ill fuccefs did not always attend thofe who innocently killed their friends, introduces the epi- fode of Comal and Galvina.
c 223 3
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM,
In SIX BOOKS.
BOOK II.
Connal * lay by the found of the moun* tain-ftream,beneath the aged tree. A ftone, with its mofs, fupported his head. Shrill through the heath of Lena, he heard the voice of night. At diftance from the heroes he lay ; the fon of the fword feared no foe ! The hero beheld, in his reft, a dark-red ftream of fire rufhing down from the hill. Crugal fat upon the beam, a chief who fell in fight. He fell by the hand of Swaran, ftriving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the fet- ting moon. His robes are of the clouds of the
* The (bene here defcribed will appear natural to thofe who have been in the highlands of Scotland. The poet removes him to a diftance from the army, to add more horror to the defcription of Crugal's ghoft by the loneli- nefs of the place.
hiii.
2*4 F I N G A t, Book It
hill. His eyes are two decaying flames. Dark is the wound of his bread ! " Crugal," faid the mighty Connal, fon of Dedgal famed on the hill of hinds ! " Why fo pale and fad, thou breaker of the fhields ? Thou hall never been pale for fear ! What difturbs the departed Crugal ?" Dim, and in tears, he flood and flretched his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he raifed his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego !
<c My fpirit, Connal, is on my hills : my corfe on the fands of Erin. Thou fhalt never talk with Crugal, nor find his lone fleps in the heath. I am light as the blafl of Cromla. I move like the fhadow of mift ! Connal, fon of Colgar, I fee a cloud of death : it hovers dark over the plains of Lena. The fons of green Erin mufl fall. Remove from the field of ghofls." Like the darkened moon he re- tired, in the midft of the whittling blafl. " Stay," faid the mighty Connal, " flay^ my dark-red friend. Lay by that beam of heaven, fon of the windy Cromla ! What cave is thy lonely houfe ? What green-headed hill the place of thy repofe ? Shall we not hear thee in the florm ? In the noife of the moun- tain-flream ? When the feeble fons of the wind come forth, and fcarcely feen, pafs over the defert ?"
The foft-voiced Connal rofe, in the midft
of his founding arms. He flruck his fhield
abvoe Cuthullin. The fon of battle waked.
" Why," faid the ruler of the car, " comes
i Connal
Book II. AN EPIC POEM. 225
Cormal through my night ? My fpear might turn againft the found ; and Cuthullin mourn the death of his friend. Speak, Connal ; fon of Colgar, fpeak, thy counfel is the fun of heaven I" u Son of Semo !" replied the chief, " the ghoft of Crugal came from his cave. The ftars dim-twinkled through his form. His voice was like the found of a diftant dream. He is a mefTenger of death ! He fpeaks of the dark and narrow houfe I Sue for peace, O chief of Erin ! or fly over the heath of Lena."
" He fpoke to Connal," replied the hero, " though ftars dim-twinkled through his form ! Son of Colgar, it was the wind that murmured acrofs thy ear. Or if it was the form * of Crugal, why didftthou not force him to my fight ? Haft thou inquired where is his cave ? The houfe of that fon of wind ? My fword might find that voice, and force his knowledge from Crugal. But fmall is his knowledge, Connal; he was here to-day. He could not have gone beyond our hills ! who could tell him there of our fall ?" " Ghofts fly on clouds, and ride on winds," faid Con- nal's voice of wifdom. " They reft together in their caves, and talk of mortal men."
* The poet teaches us the opinions that prevailed in his time concerning the ftate of feparate fouls. From Connal's expreflion, " That the ftars dim-twinkled through the form of Crugal," and Cuthullin's reply, we may gather that they both thought the foul was material ; fomething like the slfofcm of the ancient Greeks.
vol. r. o « Then
226 F I N G A L, Book If.
" Then let them talk of mortal men ; of every man but Erin's chief. Let me be forgot in their cave. I will not fly from Swaran ! If fall I mull, my tomb fhall rife, amid ft the fame? of future times. The hunter fhall fried a tear on my flone ; forrow mall dwell round the high-feofofned Bragela. I fear not death, to fly I fear ! Fingal has feen me victorious ! Thou dim phantom of the hill, fhew thyfelf to me ! come on thy beam of heaven, mew me my death in thine hand ; yet I will not fly, thou feeble fon of the wind ! Go, fon of Col- gar, flrike the Ihield. It hangs between the fpears. Let my warriors rife to the found, in the midft of the battles of Erin. Though Fingal delays his coming with the race of his flormy ifles ; we fhall fight, O Colgar's fori, and die in the battle of heroes !'
The found fpreads wide, The heroes rife, like the breaking of a blue-rolling wave. They flood on the heath, like oaks with all their branches round them ; when they echo to the flream of froft, and their withered leaves are ruffling to the wind! High Cromla's head of clouds is grey. Morning trembles on the half- enlightened ocean. The blue mift fwims flowly by, and hides the fons of Inis-fail !
" Rife, ye," faid the king of the dark- brown fhields, *' ye that came from Lochlin's waves. The fons of Erin have fled from our arms ; purfue them over the plains of Lena I Morla, go to Cormac's hall. Bid them yield to Swa- ran ; before his people fink to the tomb ; and
iilence
Book IT. AN EPIC POEM. 227
filence fpread over his ifle." They rofe ruft- ling like a flock of fea-fowl, when the waves expel them from the fhore. Their found was like a thoufand ftreams that meet in Cona's vale, when, after a ftormy night, they turn their dark eddies beneath the pale light of the morn*
As the dark (hades of autumn fly over hills of grafs : fo gloomy, dark, fuccefhve came the chiefs of Lochlin's echoing woods. Tall as the (lag of Morven, moved irately before them the king. His mining fhield is ori his fide5 like a flame on the heath at night ; when the world is filent and dark, and the traveller fees fome ghoi! fporting in the beam ! Dimly gleam the hills around, and fhew indifiinexly their oaks ! A blaft from the troubled ocean re- moved the fettled mift. The fons of Erin ap- pear, like a ridge of rocks on the coafr. ; when mariners, on fhores unknown, are trembling at veering winds !
" Go, Morla, go," faid the king of Loch- lin, M offer peace to thefe ! Offer the terms we give to kings, when nations bow down to our fwords. When the valiant are dead in war ; when virgins weep on the field !" Tali Morla came, the fon of Swarth, and ftatelv ftrode the youth along ! He fpoke to Erin's blue-eyed chief, among the lefler heroes. " Take Swaran's peace," the warrior fpoke, " the peace he gives to kings, when nations bow to his fword. Leave Erin's dreamy plains to us, and give thy fpoufe and dog. Thy fpoufe high-bofom'd heaving fair! Thy dog that Q^ 2 over-
228 F I N G A L, BookH.
overtakes the wind ! Give thefe to prove the weaknefs of thine arm ; live then beneath our power I"
" Tell Swaran, tell that heart of pride, Cuthullin never yields. I give him the dark rolling fea ; I give his people graves in Erin. But never fhall a firanger have the pleafing fun-beam of my love. No deer fhall fly on Lochlin's hills, before fwift-footed Luath." " Vain ruler of the car," faid Morla, " wilt thou then fight the king ? The king whofe fhips of many groves could carry off thine ifle ? So little is thy green-hilled Erin to him who rules the ftormy waves !" " In words I yield to many, Morla. My fword fhall yield to none. Erin fhall own the fway of Cormac, while Connal and Cuthullin live ! O Connal, firft of mighty men, thou hear'ft the words of Morla. Shall thy thoughts then be of peace, thou breaker of the fhields ? Spirit of fallen Crugal ! why didft thou threaten us with death ? The narrow houfe fhall receive me, in the midil of the light of renown. Exalt, ye ions of Erin, exalt the fpear and bend- the bow : rufh on the foe in darknefs, as the fpirits of ftormy nights !"
Then difmal, roaring, fierce, and deep the gloom of battle poured along ; as mift that is rolled on a valley, when ftorms invade the filent fun- mine of heaven ! Cuthullin moves before in arms, like an angry ghoft before a cloud ; when meteors inclofe him with lire ; when the dark winds are in his hand. Carril,
far
Book II. AN EPIC POEM. 229
far on the heath, bids the horn of battle found. He raifes the voice of fong, and pours his foul into the minds of the brave.
" Where," faid the mouth of the fong, " where is the fallen Crugal ? He lies forgot on earth ; the hall of fhells * is filent. Sad is the fpoufe of Crugal ! She is a flranger f in the hall of her grief. But who is (he, that, like a fun-beam, flies before the ranks of the foe ? It is Degrena J, lovely fair, the fpoufe of fallen Crugal. Her hair is on the wind be- hind. Her eye is red ; her voice is fhrill. Pale, empty is thy Crugal now ! His form is in the cave of the hill. He comes to the ear of reft ; he raifes his feeble voice ; like the humming of the mountain-bee ; like the col- lected flies of the eve ! But Degrena falls like a cloud of the morn ; the fword of Lochlin is in her fide. Cairbar, (he is fallen, the rifing thought of thy youth. She is fallen, O Cair- bar, the thought of thy youthful hours!"
Fierce Cairbar heard the mournful found. He rufhed along like ocean's whale. He faw the death of his daughter : he roared in the midft of thoufands. His fpear met a fon of Lochlin ! battle fpreads from wing to wing !
* The ancient Scots, as well as the prefent High-* landers, drunk in (hells ; hence it is that we fo often meet, in the old poetry, with chief of f jells, and the halls of Jlells.
f Crugal had married Degrena but a little time before the battle, confequently (he may with propriety be called a ftranger in the hall of her grief.
t Deo-grena fignifies a fun-beam,
%l As
23« F I N G A L, Book IK
As a hundred winds in Lochlin's groves ; as fire in the pines of a hundred hills ; fo loud, fo ruinous, fo vaft the ranks of men are hewn down. Cuthullin cut off heroes like thiftle ; Swaran waded Erin. Curach fell by his hand, Cairbar of the body fliield ! Morglan lies in lading red ! Ca-olt trembles as he dies ! His white bread is ftained with blood ; his yellow hair ftretched in the dud of his native land ! He often had fpread the feaft where he felh He often there had raifed the voice of the harp : when his dogs leapt round for joy ; and the youths of the chafe prepared the bow !
Still Swaran advanced, as a dream, that burfts from the defert. The little hills are rolled in its courfe ; the rocks are half-funk by its fide ! But Cuthullin dood before him, like a hill, that catches the clouds of heaven. The winds contend on its head of pines ; the hail rattles on its rocks. But, firm in its drength, it dands and fhades the filent vale of Cona ! fo Cuthullin fhaded the fons of Erin, and doocl in the midft of thoufands. Blood rifes like the fount of a rock, from panting heroes around. But Erin falls on either wing, like fnow in the day of the fun.
" O fons of Erin,'* faid Grumal, " Lochlin conquers on the field Why drive we as reeds againft the wind ? Ely to the hill of dark- brown hinds." He fled like the dag of Mor- ven ; his fpear is a trembling beam of light behind him. Few fled with Grumal, chief of the little foul : they fdl in the battle of heroes,
on
Book II. AN EPIC POEM. 231
on Lena's echoing heath. High on his car, of many gems, the chief of Erin ftood. He flew a mighty fon of Lochlin, and fpoke, in hafte, to Connal. " O Connal, firft of mortal men, thou hall taught this arm of death ! Though Erin's fons have fled, fhall we not fight the foe ? Carril, fon of other times, carry my friends to that bufhy hill. Here, Connal, let us ftand, like rocks, and fave our flying friends."
Connal mounts the car of gems. They ftretch their fhields, like the darkened moon, the daughter of the (tarry fkies, when fhe moves, a dun circle through heaven ; and dreadful change is expected by men. Sithfadda panted up the hill, and Sronnal haughty fteed. Like waves behind a whale behind them rufhed the foe. Now on the riling fide of Cromla ftood Erin's few fad fons ; like a grove through which the flame had rulhed, hurried on by the winds of the ftormy night ; diftant, withered, dark they ftand, with not a leaf to {hake in the gale.
Cuthullin ftood befide an oak. He rolled his red eye in fiience, and heard the wind in his bulhy hair ; the fcout of ocean came, Mo- ran the fon of Fithil. '* The fhips," he cried, " the fhips of the lonely ifles. Fingal comes, the firft of men, the breaker of the fhields ! The waves foam before his black prows ! His mails with fails are like groves in clouds !'* " Blow," faid Cuthullin, " blow ye winds that rufh along my ille of mift. Come to the
Q^ 4 death
lyi F I N G A L, Book II.
death of thoufands, O king of refounding Selma ! Thy fails, my friend, are to me the clouds of the morning ; thy fhips the light of heaven ; and thou thyfelf a pillar of fire that beams on the world by night. O Connal, firft of men, how pleafing, in grief, are our friends ! But the night is gathering around ! Where now are the fhips of Fingal ? Here let us pafs the hours of darknefs \ here wifh for the moon of heaven."
The winds come down on the woods. The torrents rufh from the rocks. Rain gathers round the head of Cromla. The red ftars tremble between the flying clouds. Sad, by the fide of a ftream whofe found is echoed by a tree, fad by the fide of a ftream the chief of Erin fits. Connal fon of Colgar is there, and Carril of other times. " Unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin," faid the fon of Semo, " unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin, fince he flew his friend 1 Ferda, (on of Damman, I loved thee as myfelf !"
" How, Cuthullin, fon of Semo ! how fell the breaker of the ihields ? Well I remember," faid Connal, " the fon of the noble Damman. Tall and fair, he was like the rain-bow of hea- ven." Ferda, from Albion came, the chief of a hundred hills In Muri's* hall he learned the fword, ind won the friendfhip of Cuthul- lin. We moved to the chafe together : one was our btd in the heath !
A place in Ulftei
Deugala
Book II. AN EPIC POEM. 233
Deugala was the fpoufe of Cairbar, chief of the plains of Ullin. She was covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the houfe of pride. She loved that fun-beam of youth, the fon of noble Damman. " Cairbar/' faid the white-armed Deugala, " give me half of the herd. No more I will remain in your halls. Divide the herd, dark Cairbar !" " Let Cuthullin, 7' faid Cairbar, " divide my herd on the hill. His bread is the feat of juftice. Depart, thou light of beauty !" I went and divided the herd. One fnow-white bull re- mained. I gave that bull to Cairbar, The wrath of Deugala rofe !
" Son of Damman,0 begun the fair, " Cuth- ullin hath pained my foul. I muft hear of his death, or Lubar's ftream fha!l roll over me. My pale ghoft mall wander near thee, and mourn the wound of my pride. Pour out the blood of Cuthullin, or pierce this heaving bread." " Deugala," faid the fair-haired youth, u how {hall I flay the fon of Semo ? He is the friend of my fecret thoughts. Shall I then lift the fword ?" She wept three days before the chief, on the fourth he faid he would fight. " I will fight my friend, Deugala! but may I fall by his fword ! Could I wander on the hill alone ? Could I behold the grave of Cuthullin ?" We fought on the plain of Muri. Our fwords avoid a wound. They flide on the helmets of fteel ; or found on theflippery fhields. Deugala was near with a fmile, and faid to the fon of Damman : " Thine arm is
feeble.
m F I N G A L, Book II.
feeble, fun-beam of youth ! Thy years are not ftrong for fteel. Yield to the fon of Semo. He is a rock on Malmor."
The tear is in the eye of youth. He faul- tering faid to me : " Cuthullin, raife thy boffy fhield. Defend thee from the hand of thy friend. My foul is laden with grief: for I mud flay the chief of men !" I fighed as the wind in the cleft of a rock. I lifted high the edge of my fteel. The fun-beam of battle fell : the firft of Cuthullin's friends ! Un- happy is the hand of Cuthullin fince the hero fell !
" Mournful is thy tale, fon of the car," faid Carril of other times. " It fends my foul back to the ages of old, to the days of other years. Often have I heard of Comal, who Hew the friend he loved ; yet victory attended his fteel : the battle was confumed in his pre- fence I"
Comal was a fon of Albion ; the chief of an hundred hills ! His deer drunk of a thou- fand ftreams. A thoufand rocks replied to the voice of his dogs. His face was the mildnefs of youth. His hand the death of heroes. One was his love, and fair was iTie ! the daugh- ter of mighty Conloch. She appeared like a fun-beam among women. Her hair was the wing of the raven. Her dogs were taught to the chafe. Her bow-ftring founded on the winds. Her foul was fixed on Comal. Often met their eyes of love. Their courfe in the chafe was one. Happy were their words in % fecret.
Book II. AN EPIC POEM. ^35
fecret. But Grumal loved the maid, the dark chief of the gloomy Ardven. He watched her lone fteps in the heath ; the foe of un- happy Comal i
One day, tired of the chafe, when the mift had concealed their friends, Comal and the daughter of Conloch met, in the cave of Ro- nan. It was the wonted haunt of Comal. Its fides were hung with his arms. A hundred fhields of thongs were there ; a hundred helms of founding fteel. " Reft here," he faid, " my love, Galbina : thou light of the cave of Ro- nan ! A deer appears on Mora's brow. I go ; but I will foon return." " I fear," fhe faid, " dark Grumal my foe : he haunts the cave of Ronan ! I will reft among the arms ; but foon return, my love.''
He went to the deer of Mora. The daugh- ter of Conloch would try his love. She clothed her fair fides with his armour ; fhe ftrode from the cave of Ronan ! He thought it was his foe. His heart beat high. His colour changed, and darknefs dimmed his eyes. He drew the bow. The arrow flew. Galbina fell in blood ! He run with wildnefs in his fteps : he called the daughter of Conloch. No aniwer in the lonely rock. Where art thou, O my love ? He law, at length, her heaving heart, beating around the arrow he threw. " O Conloch's daughter, is it thcu ?" He funk upon her breaft! The hunters found the haplefs pair ; he after- wards walked the hill. But many and filent were his fteps round the dark dwelling of his
love.
il6 F I N G A L. BookIL
love. The fleet of the ocean came. He fought, the ftrangers fled. He fearched for death along the field. But who could flay the mighty Co- mal ! He threw away his dark-brown mield. An arrow found his manly bread. He fleeps with his loved Galbina at the noife of the founding furge ! Their green tombs are feen by the manner, when he bounds on the waves pf the north.
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM.
book in,
ARGUMENT to Book III.
Clithullin, pleafed with the ftory of Carril, infifts with that bard for more of his fongs. He relates the actions of Fingal in Lochlin, and death of Agandecca the beautiful filter of Swaran. He had fcarce finifhcd when Calmat the fon of Matha, who had advifed the firft battle, came wounded from the field, and told them of Swaran's defign to furprife the remains of the Irifh army. He himfelf prdpofes to withftand fingly the whole force of the enemy, in a narrow pafs, till the Irifh mould make good their retreat. Cuthullin, touched with the gallant propofal of Calmar, refolves to accompany him, and orders Carril to carry off the few that remained of the Irifh. Morning comes, Cal- mar dies of his wounds ; and, the (hips of the Cale- donians appearing, Swaran gives over the purfuit of the Irifh, and returns to oppofe Fingal's landing. Cuthul- lin, amamed, after his defeat, to appear before Fingal, retires to the cave of Tura. Fingal engages the enemy, puts them to flight ; but the coming on of night makes the victory not decifive. The king, who had obferved the gallant behaviour of his grandfon Ofcar, gives him advices concerning his conduct in peace and war. He recommends to him to place the example of his fathers before his eyes, as the beft model for his conduct ; which introduces the epifode concerning Fainafollis, the daughter of the king of Craca, whom Fingal had taken under his protection, in his youth. Fillan and Ofcar are difpatched to obferve the motions of the enemy by night ; Gaul the fon of Morni defires the command of the army, in the next battle ; which Fin- gal proraifcs to give him. Some general reflections of the poet clofe the third day.
[ 239 1
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM.
In SIX BOOKS,
BOOK III*.
« tjleasant are the words of the fong," ■T faid Cuthullin ! " lovely the tales of other times ! They are like the calm dew of the morning on the hill of roes ! when the fun is faint on its fide, and the lake is fettled and blue in the vale. O Carril, raife again thy voice ! let me hear the fong of Selma : which was fung in my halls of joy, when Fingalking of fhields was there, and glowed at the deeds of his fathers."
* The fecond night, fince the opening of the poem, continues ; and Cuthullin, Connal, and Carril Hill fit in the place defcribed in the preceding book. The {lory of Agandecca is introduced here with propriety, as great ofe is made of it in the courfe of the poem, and as it, in fome meafure, brings about the cataftrophe.
" Fingal!
*4« f I N G A L, BookIIL
"Fingal ! thou dweller of battle/' faid Car- ril, " early were thy deeds in arms, Loch- lin was confirmed in thy wrath, when thy youth ftrove with the beauty of maids. They imiled at the fair-blooming face of the hero; but death was in his hands. He was ftrong as the waters of Lora. His followers were the roar of a thoufand ftreams. They took the king of Lochlin in war ; they reftored him to his (hips. His big heart fwelled with pride ; the death of the youth was dark in his foul. For none ever, but Fingal, had overcome the ftrength of the mighty Starno *. He fat in the hall of his fhells in Lochlin's woody land. He called the grey-haired Snivan, that often fung round the circle j" of Loda : when the ftone of power heard his voice, and battle turned in the field of the valiant I"
" Go ; grey-haired Snivan," Starno faid, " go to Ardven's fea-furrounded rocks. Tell to the king of Selma ; he the faireft among his thoufands, tell him I give him my daugh- ter, the lovel'ieft maid that ever heaved a breaft of fnow. Her arms are white as the foam of my waves. Her foul is generous and mild. Let him come wTith his braved heroes, to the daughter of the fecret hall !" Snivan came to
* Starno was the father of Swaran as well as Agan- decca. His' fierce and cruel character is well marked in other poems concerning the times.
f This paflage molt certainly alludes to the religion of Lochlin, and theJ}oneofpower\iZTZ mentioned is the image
4
Selma's
Book III. AN EPIC POEM. 24?
Selma's ball : fair-haired Fingal attended his Heps. His kindled foul flew to the maid, as he bounded on the waves of the north. " Wel- come," faid the dark-brown Starno, " wel- come, king of rocky Morven : welcome his heroes of might, fons of the diftant ifle ! Three days within my halls (hall ye feaft ! three days purfue my boars ; that your fame may reach the maid who dwells in the fecret hall."
Starno defigned their death. He gave the feaft of fhells. Fingal, who doubted the foe, kept on his arms of fteel. The fons of death were afraid : they fled from the eyes of the king. The voice of fprightly mirth arofe. The trembling harps of joy were fining. Bards fung the battle of heroes : they fung the heaving breaft of love. Ullin, Fingal's bard, was there : the fweet voice of refounding Cona. He praifed the daughter of Lochlin ; and Morven's * high-defcended chief. The daughter of Lochlin overheard. She left the hall of her fecret figh ! She came in all her beauty, like the moon from the cloud of the eaft. Lovelinefs was around her as light. Her fteps were the mufic of fongs. She faw the youth and loved him. He was the ftolen figh of her foul. Her blue eye rolled on him in fecret : fhe bleft the chief of refounding Morven.
* All the North -weft coaft of Scotland probably went of old under the name of Morven, which fignifies a ridge of very high hills.
VOL. T. K The
M* F I N G A L, Book Iff.
The third day, with all its beams, fhone bright on the wood of boars. Forth moved the dark-brown Starno ; and Fingal, king of fhields. Half the day they fpent in the chafe ; the fpear of Selma was red in blood. It was then the daughter of Starno, with blue eyes rolling in tears : it was then fhe came with her voice of love, and fpoke to the king of Morven. " Fingal, high-defcended chief, truft not Starno's heart of pride. Within that wood he has placed his chiefs. Beware of the wood of death. But, remember, fon of the ifle, remember Agandecca : fave me from the wrath of my father, king of the windy Morven I"
The youth, with unconcern, went on ; his heroes by his fide. The fons of death fell by his hand : and Gormal echoed around ! Be- fore the halls of Starno the fons of the chafe convened. The king's dark brows were like clouds ; his eyes like meteors of night. " Bring hither," he faid, C| Agandecca to her lovely king of Morven ! His hand is ftained with the ,blood of my people ; her words have not been in vain !" She came with the red eye of tears. She came with loofely flowing locks. Her white breaft heaved with broken fighs, like the foam of the ftreamy Lubar. -Starno pierced her fide with fteel. She fell, like a wreath of fnow, which Hides from the rocks of Ronan • when the woods are flill, and echo deepens in the vale ! Then Fingal eyed his valiant chiefs, his valiant chiefs took
7 arms.
Book III, A N E P I C P O E M. 243
arms. The gloom of battle roared ; Lochlin fled or died. Pale, in his bounding fhip he clofed the maid of the fofteft foul. Her tomb afcends on Ardven ; the fea roars round her narrow dwelling.
«« Bleffed be her foul," faid Cuthullin; " bleffed be the mouth of the fong ! Strong was the youth of Fingal ; ftrong is his arm of age. Lochlin mall fall again before king of echoing Morven. Shew thy face from a cloud, O moon ! light his white fails on the wave : and if any ftrong fpirit * of heaven fits on that low-hung cloud ; turn his dark mips from the rock, thou rider of the ftorm !"
Such were the words of Cuthullin at the found of the mountain-ftream ; when Calmar afcended the hill, the wounded fori of Matha. From the field he came in his blood. He leaned on his bending fpear. Feeble is the arm of battle ! but ftrong the foul of the hero ! " Welcome ! O fon of Matha," faid Connal, " welcome art thou to thy friends ! Why burfts that broken figh, from the breaft of him who never feared before ? And never, Connal, will he fear, chief of the pointed fteel ! My foul brightens in danger : in the noife of
* This is the only paflage in the poem that has the ap- pearance of religion. But Cuthullin's apoftrophe to this fpirit is accompanied with a doubt, To that it is not eafy to determine whether the hero meant a fupeiior being, or the ghofts of deceafed warriors, who were fuppofed in thofe times to rule the ftorms, and to tranfport themfelves in a gull of wind from one country to another.
R 2 arms.
244 F I N G A L, Book III.
arms. I am of the race of battle. My fa- thers never feared."
" Cormar was the firft of my race. He fported through the florms of waves. His black fkiff bounded on ocean ; he travelled on the wings of the wind. A fpirit once em- broiled the night. Seas fwell, and rocks re- found. Winds drive along the clouds. The lightning flies on wings of fire. He feared, and came to land : then blufhed that he feared at all. He rufhed again among the waves to find the fon of the wind. Three youths guide the bounding bark ; he flood with fword un- fheathed. When the low-hung vapour paffed, he took it by the curling head. He fearched its dark womb with his fteel. The fun of the wind forfook the air. The moon and ftars returned ! Such was the boldnels of my race. Calmar is like his fathers. Danger flies from, the lifted fword. They bed iucceed who dare !
" But now, ye fons of green Erin, retire from Lena's bloody heath. Collect the fad remnant of our friends, and join the fword of Fingal. I heard the found of Lochlin's ad- vancing arms ! Calmar will remain and fight. My voice fhall be fuch, my friend s, as if thou- fands were behind me. But, fon of Semo, remember me. Remember Calmar's lifelefs corfe. When Fingal fhall have wafted the field, place me by fome ftone of remembrance, that future times may hear my fame ; that o the
Book III. AN EPIC POEM. 245
the mother of Calmar may rejoice in my re-
)wn,"
" No: fori of Matha," faid Cuthullin, " I will never leave thee here. My joy is in unequal fight : my foul increafes in danger: Connal, and Carril of other times, carry off the fad fons of Erin. When the battle is over, fearch for us in this narrow way. For near this oak we fhall fall, in the rtream of the bat- tle of thoufands !" " O FithiPs fon, with flying fpeed rufh over the heath of Lena. Tell to Fingal that Erin is fallen. Bid the kins of Morven come. O let him come, like the fun in a ftorm, to lighten, to reftore the ifle !"
Morning is grey on Cromla. The fons of the fea afcend. Calmar flood forth to meet them in the pride of his kindling foul. But pale was the face of the chief. He leaned on his father's fpear. That fpear which he brought from Lara, when the foul of his mother was fad ; the foul of the lonely Alcletha, waining in the forrow of years. But flowly now the hero falls, like a tree on the plain. Dark Cuth- ullin ftands alone like a rock in a fandy vale. The fea comes with its waves, and roars on its hardened fides. Its head is covered with foam ; the hills are echoing around.
Now from the grey mift of the ocean, the white- failed mips of Fingal appear. High is the grove of their maris, as they ncd, by turns, on the rolling wave. Swaran faw them from the hill. Fie returned from the fons of Erin. As ebbs the refounding fea, through the hun- r ^3 dred
246 FINGAL, Book IH,
dred ifles of Iniftore ; fo loud, fo vaft, fo im-* menfe return the fons of Lochlin againft the king. But bending, weeping, fad, and flow, and dragging his long fpear behind, Cuthullin funk in Cromla's wood, and mourned his fallen friends. He feared the face of Fingal, who was wont to ereet him from the fields of re-
nown !
a
How many lie there of my heroes ! the chief of Erin's race ! they that were cheerful in the hall, when the found of the (hells arofe ! No more fhall I find their fteps in the heath. No more fhall I hear their voice in the chafe. Pale, filent, low on bloody beds, are they who were my friends! O fpirits of the lately dead, meet Cuthullin on his heath ! Speak to him on the wind, when the ruffling tree of Tura's cave refounds. There, far remote, I fhall lie un- known. No bard fhall hear of me. No grey ftone fhall rife to my renown. Mourn me with the dead, O Bragela ! departed is my fame." Such were the words of Cuthullin, when he funk in the woods of Cromla !
Fingal, tall in his fhip, ftretched his bright lance before him. Terrible was the gleam of the fteel : it was like the green meteor of death, fetting in the heath of Malmor, when the tra- veller is alone, and the broad moon is darkened in heaven.
" The battle is pair," faid the king. " I be- hold the blood of my friends. Sad is the heath of Lena ! mournful the oaks of Cromla ! The hunters have fallen in their ftrength : the
for*
Book III. A N E P I C P O E M. 247
fon of Semo is no more, Ryno and Fillan, my fons, found the horn of Fin gal. Afcend that hill on the more ; 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 ftrength. I wait for the mighty ftranger. I wait on Lena's more for Swaran. Let him come with all his race ; ftrong in battle are the friends of the dead 1"
Fair Ryno as lightning gleamed along : dark Fillan rumed like the made of autumn. On Lena's heath their voice is heard. The fons of ocean heard the horn of Fingal. As the roaring eddy of ocean returning from the kingdom of fnows ; fo ftrong, fo dark, fo fud- den came down the fons of Lochlin. The king in their front appears, in the difmal pride of his arms ! Wrath burns on his dark-brown face : his eyes roll in the fire of his valour. Fingal beheld the fon of Starno : he remem- bered Agandecca. For Swaran with the tears of youth had mourned his white- bofomed fifter. He fent Ullin of fongs to bid him to the feaft of fhells : for pleafant on Fingal's foul returned the memory of the fir ft of his loves !
Ullin came with aged fteps, and fpoke to Starno's fon. " O thou that dwelled afar, iurrounded like a rock, with thy waves ! come to the feafl of the king, and pafs the day in reft. To-morrow let us fight, O Swaran, and break the echoing fhields." " To day," laid R 4 Starno's
243 F I N G A L, Book III.
Starno's wrathful fon, " we break the echoing fhields : to-morrow my feafl: fhall be fpread 5 but Fingal mail lie on earth." " To-morrow let his feaft be fpread," faid Fingal with a fmile. " To-day, O my fons I we fhall break the echoing ihields. Oflian, ftand thou near my arm. Gaul, lift thy terrible fword. Fergus, bend thy crooked yew. Throw, Fillan, thy lance through heaven. Lift your fhields, like the darkened moon. Be your fpears the me- teors of death, Follow me in the path of my fame. Equal my deeds in battle."
As a hundred winds on Morven ; as the ftreams of a hundred hills ; as clouds fly fuc- ceflive over heaven ; as the dark ocean affails the more of the defert : fo roaring, fo vaft, fo terrible, the armies mixed on Lena's echoing heath. The groan of the people fpread over the hills : it was like the thunder of night, when the cloud burfts on Cona ; and a thou- fand ghofts fhriek at once on the hollow wind. Fingal rufhed on in his ftrength, terrible as the fpirit of Trenmor ; when, in a whirlwind, he comes to Morven, to fee the children of his pride. The oaks refound on their moun- tains, and the rocks fall down before him. Dimly feen, as lightens the night, he ftrides largely from hill to hill. Bloody was the hand of my father, when he whirled the gleam of his fword. He remembers the battles of his youth. The field is wafted in his courfe !
Ryno went on like a pillar of fire. Dark is the brow of Gaul. Fergus rufhed forward
with
i3ooK III. A N E P I C P O E M. 249
with feet of wind. Fillan like the mift of the bill. Oflian, like a rock, came down. I exulted in the ftrength of the king. Many were the deaths of my arm ! difmal the gleam of my fword ! My locks were not then lb grey ; nor trembled my hands with age. My eyes were not clofed in darknefs ; my feet failed net in the race !
Who can relate the deaths of the people ? Who the deeds of mighty heroes ? when Fin- gal, burning in his wrath, confumed the fons of Lochlin ? Groans fwelled on groans from hill to hill, till night had covered all. Pale, flaring like a herd of deer, the ions of Lochlin con- vene on Lena. We fat and heard the fprightly harp, at Lubar's gentle ftream. Fingal him- felf was next to the foe. He liftened to the tales of his bards. His godlike race were in the fong, the chiefs of other times. Attentive, leaning on his ihield, the king of Morven fat. The wind whittled through his locks ; his thoughts are of the days of other years. Near him on his bending fpear, my young, my va- liant Ofcar flood. He admired the king of Morven : his deeds were fwelling in his ioul I
" Son of my fori," begun the king, " O Ofcar, pride of youth ! I law the fhining of thy fwoid. I gloried in my race. Puriue the fame of our fathers ; be thou what they have been, when Trenmor lived, the firft cf men, and Trathal the father of heroes ! They fought the battle in their youth. They are the fong of bards, O Ofcar ! bend the flrong in arm :
but
z$o I I N G A Lf BookIH,
but fpare the feeble hand. Be thou a ftream of many tides againft the foes of thy people ; but like the gale, that moves the grafs, to thofe who afk thine aid. So Trenmor lived; fuch Trathal was ; and fuch has Fingal been. My arm was the fupport of the injured ; the weak reded behind the lightning of my fteel.
" Ofcar ! I was young like thee, when lovely Fainafollis came : that fun-beam ! that mild light of love ! the daughter of * Craca's king ! I then returned from Cona's heath, and few were in my train. A white- failed boat appeared far off ; we faw it like a mid, that rode on ocean's wind. It foon approached. We faw the fair. Her white bread heaved with fighs. The wind was in her loofe dark hair : her rofy cheek had tears. " Daughter of beauty," calm I faid, " what figh is in thy bread ? Can I, young as I am, defend thee, daughter of the fea ? My fword is not un- matched in war, but dauntlefs is my heart."
" To thee I fly," with fighs me faid, " O prince of mighty men ! To thee I fly, chief of the generous fhells, fupporter of the feeble hand ! The king of Craca's echoing ifle owned me the fun-beam of his race. Cro- rnala's hills have heard the fighs of love for unhappy Fainafollis ! Sora's chief beheld me
* What the Craca here mentioned was, is not, at this diftance of time, eafy to determine. The moil probable opinion is, that it was one of the Shetland ifles. There is a ftory concerning a daughter of the king of Craca in the fi*tb book,
fair ;
Book III. AN EPIC POEM. 251
fair ; he loved the daughter of Craca. His fword is a beam of light upon the warrior's fide. But dark is his brow ; and tempefts are in his foul. I fhun him, on the roaring fea ; but Sora's chief purfues."
" Reft thou," I faid, " behind my fhield ; reft in peace, thou beam of light ! The gloomy chief of Sora will fly, if Fingafs arm is like his foul. In fome lone cave I might conceal thee, daughter of the fea ! But Fingai never flies. Where the danger threatens, I rejoice in the ftorm of fpears." I faw the tears upon her cheek. I pitied Craca's fair. Now, like a dreadful wave afar, appeared the fhip of ftormy Borbar. His mads high-bended over the fea behind their meets of fnow. White roll the waters on either fide. The ftrength of ocean founds. " Come thou," I faid, " from the roar of ocean, thou rider of the ftorm! Partake the feaft within my hall. It is the houfe of ft rangers."
" The maid flood trembling by my fide. He drew the bow. She fell. " Unerring is thy hand," I faid, " but feeble was the foe !" We fought, nor weak the ftrife of death ! He funk beneath my fword, We laid them in two tombs of ftone ; the haplefs lovers of youth J Such have I been in my youth, O Ofcar ! be thou like the age of Fingai. Never fearch thou for battle ; nor fhun it when it comes.
" Fillan and Ofcar of the dark- brown hair ! ye, that are fwift in the race ! fly over the Jieath in my prefence. View the fons of Loch*
lin,
£52 F I N G A L, Book III.
lin. Far off I hear the noife of their feet, like diftant founds in woods. Go : that they may • not fly from my fword, along the waves of the north. For many chiefs of Erin's race lie here on the dark bed of death. The children of war are low ; the fens of echoing Cromla." The heroes flew like two dark clouds : two dark clouds that are the chariots of ghofts ; when air's dark children come forth to frighten haplefs men. It was then that Gaul *, the fon of Morni, flood like a rock in night. His fpear is glittering to the ftars ; his voice like many ftreams.
" Son of battle," cried the chief, * O Fin- gal, king of fhells ! let the bards of many longs footh Erin's friends to reft. Fingal, Iheath thou thy fword of death ; and let thy people fight. We wither away without our fame ; our king is the only breaker of fhields ! When morning rifes on our hills, behold, at a diftance, our deeds. Let Lochlin feel the fword of Morni' s fon ; that bards may fing of me. Such was the cuftom heretofore of Fin- gal's noble race. Such was thine own, thou king of fwords, in battles of the fpear."
* Gaul, the fon of Morni, was chief of a tribe that difputed long the pre-eminence with Fingal himfelf. They v. ere reduced at lad to obedience, and Gaul, from an enemy, turned Fingal's beft friend and greateft hero. His character is fomething like that of Ajax in the Iliad ; a hero of more ftipngth than conduct in battle. He was very fond of military fame, and here he demands the next battle to himfelf. The poet, by an artifice, removes Fin- sal, that his return may be the more magnificent.
« Ofon
Book III. AN EPIC POEM. 253
" O fon of Morni," Fingal replied, " I glory in thy fame. Fight ; but my fpear fliall be near, to aid thee in the midft of danger. Raife, raife the voice, ye fons of fong ! and lull me into reft. Here will Fingal lie, atnidft the wind of night, And if thou, Agandecca, art near, among the children of thy land ; if thou fitteft on a blafl of wind, among the high- fhrowded malls of Lochlin ; come to my dreams *, my fair one. Shew thy bright face to my foul."
Many a voice and many a harp, in tuneful founds arofe. Of Fingal's noble deeds they fung ; of Fingal' s noble race : and fometimes, on the lovely found, was heard the name of Oflian. I often fought, and often won, in bat- tles of the fpear. But blind and tearful, and forlorn I walk with little men ! O Fingal, with thy race of war I now behold thee not ! The wild roes feed on the green tomb of the mighty king of Morven ! Bleft be thy foul, thou king of fwords, thou mod renowned on the hills of Cona!
* The poet prepares us for the dream of Fingal in the next book.
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM.
BOOK IV
ARGUMENT to Book IV.
The action of the poem being fufpended by night, Offiari! takes that opportunity to relate his own actions at the lake of Lego, and his courtfhip of Everallin, who was the mother of Ofcar, and had died feme time before the expedition of Fingal into Ireland. Her ghoft ap- pears to him, and tells him that Ofcar, who had been lent, the beginning of the night, to obferve the enemy^ was engaged with an advanced party, and almolt over- powered. Offian relieves his fon ; and an alarm is given to Fingal of the approach of Swaran. The king rifes, calls his army together, and, as he had promifed the preceding night, devolves the command on Gaul the fon of Morni, while he himfelf, after charging his fans to behave gallantly and defend his people, retires to a hill, from whence he could have a view of the battle. The battle joins ; the poet relates Ofcar's great actions. But when Ofcar, in conjunction with his father, conquered in one wing, Gaul, who was attacked by Swaran in perfon, was on the point of retreating in the other. Fingal fends Ullin his bard to encourage him with a war fong, but notwithstanding Swaran prevails ; and Gaul and his army are obliged to give way. Fin- gal, defcending from the hill, rallies them again : Swa- ran defifts from the purfuit, poflefles himfelf of a rifing ground, reftores the ranks, and waits the approach of Fingal. The king, having encouraged his men, gives the neceffary orders, and renews the battle. Cuthullin, who, with his friend Connal, and Carril his bard, had retired to the cave of Tura, hearing the noife, came to the brow of the hill, which overlooked the field of bat- tle, where he faw Fingal engaged with the enemy. He, being hindered by Connal from joining Fingal, who was himfelf upon the point of obtaining a complete victory, fends Carril to congratulate that hero on hi? fuccefs.
C 2J7 ]
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
■
EPIC POEM.
In SIX BOOKS.
BOOK IV*.
VI7ho comes with her fongs from the hill, * * like the bow of the fhowery Lena ? It is the maid of the voice of love ! The white- armed daughter of Tofcar ! Often haft thou heard my fong ; often given the tear of beauty, Doft thou come to the wars of thy people ? to hear the actions of Ofcar ? When mall I ceafe
* Fingal being afleep, and the a£Uon fufpended by- night, the poet introduces the ftory of his courtfhip of Everallin the daughter of Branno. The epifode is necef- fary to clear up feveral paflages that follow in the poem ; at the fame time that it naturally brings on the action of the book, which may be fuppofed to begin about the mid- dle of the third night from the opening of the poem. This book, as many of Oman's other compofitions, is ad- drefled to the beautiful Malvina, the daughter of Tofcar. She appears to have been in love with Ofcar, and to have affected the company of the father after the death of the fon.
VOL. I. S tO
253 F I N G A L, Book IV.
to mourn, by the dreams of refounding Cona ? My years have parTed away in battle. My age is darkened with grief!
" Daughter of the hand of fnow ! I was not fo mournful and blind. I was not fo dark and forlorn, when Everallin loved me ! Everal- lin with the dark-brown, hair, the white-bo- fomed daughter of Branno ! A thoufand he- roes fought the maid, fhe refufed her love to a thoufand. The fons of the fword were de- fpifed : for graceful in her eyes was Offian ! I went, in fuit of the maid, to Lego's fable furge. Twelve of my people were there, the fons of dreamy Morven ! We came to Bran- no, friend of Grangers ! Branno of the found- ing mail ! " From whence," he faid, " are the arms of Reel ? Not eafy to win is the maid, who has denied the blue-eyed fons of Erin! But blePc be thou, O fon of Fingal ! Happy is the maid that waits thee ! Though twelve daughters of beauty were mine, thine were the choice, thou fon of fame !"
He opened the hall of the maid, the dark- haired Everallin. Joy kindled in our manly breads. We bled the maid of Branno. "Above us on the hill appeared the people of dately Cormac. Eight were the heroes of the chief. The heath flamed wide with their arms. There Coila ; there Durra of wounds, there mighty Tofcar, and Tago, there Fredal the victorious dood ; Dajro of the happy deeds : Dala the battle's bulwark in the narrow way ! The fword flamed in the hand of Corrnac. Grace- ful
Book IV. AN EPIC POEM. 459
ful was the look of the hero ! Eight were the heroes of Oflian. Ullin flormy fon of war. Mullo of the generous deeds. The noble, the graceful Scelacha. Oglan, and Cerdal the wrathful. Dumariccan's brows of death .! And why fhould Ogar be the laft; fo wide renowned on the hills of Ardven ?"
" Ogar met Dala the ftrong, face to face, on the field of heroes. The battle of the chiefs was like wind, on ocean's foamy waves. The dagger is remembered by Ogar ; the wea- pon which he loved. Nine times he drowned it in Dala's fide. The ftormy battle turned. Three times I broke on Cormac's fhiekl : three times he broke his fpear. But unhappy youth of love ! I cut his head away. Five times I fhook it by the lock- The friends of Cor- mac fled. Whoever would have told me, lovely maid, when then I drove in battle ; that blind, forfaken, and forlorn, I now mould pais the night ; firm ought his mail to have been ; unmatched his arm in war!"
On * Lena's gloomy heath, the voice of mufic died away. The unconftant bJaft blew hard. The high oak fhook its leaves around. Of Everallin were my thoughts, when in all
* The poet returns to his fubjeft. If one could fix the time of the year in which the action of the poem happened, from the fcene dcfcribed here, I mould be tempted to place it in autumn. The trees (lied then- leaves, and the winds are variable, both which circum- stances agree with that feafon of the year.
S 2 the
260 F I N G A L, Book IV.
the light of beauty fhe came ; her blue eyes rolling in tears. She ftood on a cloud before my fight, and fpoke with feeble voice ! " Rife, Offian, rife, and fave my fon ; fave Ofcar prince of men. Near the red oak of Lubar's ftream, he fights with Lochlin's fons." She funk into her cloud again. . I covered me with fteel. My fpear fupported my fteps ; my rattling armour rung. I hummed, as I was wont in danger, the fongs of heroes of old. Like diftant thunder Lochlin heard. They fled ; my fon purfued.
I called him like a diftant ftream. Ofcar return over Lena. " No further purfue the foe," I faid, " though Offian is behind thee." He came ! and pleafant to my ear was Ofcar's founding fteel. " Why didft thou flop my hand," he faid, " till death had covered all ? for dark and dreadful by the ftream they met thy fon and Fillan ! They watched the terrors of the night. Our fwords have conquered fome. But as the winds of night pour the ocean over the white fands of Mora, fo dark advance the fons of Lochlin, over Lena's ruftling heath ! The ghofts of night fhriek afar : I have feen the meteors of death. Let me awake the king of Morven, he that fmiles in danger ! He that is like the fun of heaven, rifmg in a ftorm I"
Hngal had ftarted from a dream, and leaned on Trenmor's fhield ; the dark-brown fhield of his fathers ; which they had lifted of old in war. The hero had feen, in his reft, the
mournful
Book IV. AN EPIC POEM. 261
mournful form of Agandecca. She came from the way of the ocean. She flowly, lonely, moved over Lena. Her face was pale like the mift of Cromla. Dark were the tears of her cheek. She often raifed her dim hand from her robe : her robe which was of the clouds of the defert : fhe raifed her dim hand over Fingal, and turned away her filent eyes ! " Why weeps the daughter of Starno ?" faid Fingal with a figh ; " why is thy face fo pale, fair wanderer of the clouds ?" She departed on the wind of Lena. She left him in the midft of the night. She mourned the fons of her people, that were to fall by the hand of Fingal.
The hero ftarted from reft. Still he beheld her in his foul. The found of Ofcar's fteps approached. The king faw the grey fhield on his fide : for the faint beam of the morning came over the waters of Ullin. " What do the foes in their fear?" faid the rifing king of Morven ; '* or fly th*y through ocean's foam, or wait they the battle of fteel ? But why mould Fingal afk? I hear their voice on the early wind ! Fly over Lena's heath : O Ofcar, awake our friends !"
The king flood by the ftone of Lubar. Thrice he reared his terrible voice. The deer ftarted from the fountains of Cromla. The rocks fhook on all their hills. Like the noife of a hundred mountain-ftreams, that burft, and roar, and foam! like the clouds, that gather to a temped on the blue face of the fky ! fo met the fons of the defert, round the terrible voice s 3 of
i6i F I N G A L, Book IV.
of Fingal. Pleafant was the yoice of the king of Morven to the warriors of his land. Often had he led them to battle ■, often returned with the fpoils of the foe !
" Come to battle," faid the king, <c ye chil- dren of echoing Selma ! Come to the death of thoufands. Comhal's fon will fee the fight. My fword fhali wave on the hiil the defence of my people in war. But never may you need it, warriors : while the fon of Morni fight's, the chief of mighty men ! He lhall lead my battle! that his fame may rife in fong ! O ye ghofts of heroes dead ! ye riders of the ftorm of Cromla ! receive my falling people with joy, and bear them to your hills. And may the blaft of Lena carry them over my feas, that they may come to my filent dreams, and delight my foul in reft ! Fillan and Ofcar, of the dark-brown hair ! fair Ryno, with the pointed fteel ! advance with valour to the fight. Behold the fon of Morni ! Let your fwords he like his in ftrife : behold the deeds of his hands. Protedt the friends of your father. Remember the chiefs of old. My children, I will fee you yet, though here you mould fall in Erin. Soon fhali our cold pale ghofts meet in a cloud, on Cona's eddying winds !"
Now like a dark and ftormy cloud, edged round with the red lightning of heaven ; fly- ing weftward from the morning's beam, the king of Selma removed. Terrible is the light of his armour ; two fpears are in his hand. His grey hair falls on the wind. He often
looks,
Book IV. A N E P I C P O E M. 263
looks back on the war. Three bards attend the fon of fame, to bear his words to the chiefs. High on Cromla's fide he fat, waving the light- ning of his fword, and as he waved we moved.
Joy rifes in Ofcar' s face. His cheek is red. His eye fheds tears. The fword is a beam of fire in his hand. He came, and, fmiling, fpoke to Offian. " O ruler of the fight of fteel! my father, hear thy fon ! Retire with Morven's mighty chief. Give me the fame of Offian. If here I fall ; O chief, remember that bread of fnow, the lonely fun-beam of my love, the white-handed daughter of To fear ! For, with red cheek from the rock, bending over the ftream, her foft hair flies about her bofom, as fhe pours the figh for Ofcar. Tell her I am on my hills, a lightly-bounding fon of the wind ; tell her, that in a cloud, I may meet the lovely maid of Tofcar." Raife, Ofcar, rather raife my tomb. I will not yield the war to thee. The firft and bloodieft in the ftrife, my arm fliall teach thee how to fight. But, remember, my fon, to place this fword, this bow, the horn of my deer, within that dark and narrow houfe, whofe mark is one grey flone ! Ofcar, I have no love to leave to the care of my fon. Everallin is no more, the lovely daughter of Branno !
Such were our words, when Gaul's loud voice came growing on the wind. He waved on high the fword of his father. We rufhed to death and wounds. As waves, white-bub- bling over the deep, come fwelling, roaring s 4 on ;
264 F I N G A L, Book IV.
on ; as rocks of ooze meet roaring waves ; fo foes attacked and fought. Man met with man, and fteel with fteel. Shields found, and war- riors fall. As a hundred hammers on the red fon of the furnace, fo rofe, fo rung their fwords I
Gaul rufhed on, like a whirlwind in Ard- ven. The deftruclion of heroes is on his fword. Swaran was like the fire of the defert in the echoing heath of Gcrmal ! How can I give to the fong the death of many fpears ? My fword rofe high, and flamed in the ftrife of blood. Ofcar, terrible wert thou, my heft, my greater! fon ! I rejoiced in my fecret foul, when his fword flamed over the flain. They fled amain through Lena's heath. We purfued and flew. As ftones that bound from rock to rock ; as axes in echoing woods ; as thunder rolls from hill to hill, in difmal broken peals ; fo blow fucceeded to blow, and death to death, from the hand of Ofcar and mine.
But Swaran clofed round Morni's fon, as the ftrength of the tide of Iniftore. The king half- rofe from his hill at the fight. He half- aim med the fpear. " Go, Ullin, go, my aged bard," begun the king of Morven. " Remind the mighty Gaul of war, Remind him of his fathers. Support the yielding fight with fong ; for fong enlivens war." Tali Ullin went, with ftep of age, and fpoke to the king of fwords. " Son* of the chief of generous
fteeds !
* The cuflom of encouraging men in battle with ex- tempore rhymesj has been carried down almoft to our
own
Book IV. AN EPIC POEM, 265
Heeds ! high-bounding king of fpears. Strong arm in every perilous toil, Hard heart that never yields. Chief of the pointed arms of death. Cut down the foe ; let no white fail bound round dark Iniftore. Be thine arm like thunder, thine eyes like fire, thy heart of folid rock. Whirl round thy fword as a meteor at night ; lift thy fhield like the flame of death. Son of the chief of generous fteeds, cut down the foe. Deftroy I" The hero's heart beat high. But Swaran came with battle. He cleft the fhield of Gaul in twain. The fons of Selma fled.
Fingal at once arofe in arms. Thrice he reared his dreadful voice. Cromla anfwered around. The fons of the defert ftood ftilh They bent their blufhing faces to earth, alhamed at the prefence of the king. He came, like a cloud of rain in the day of the fun, when flow it rolls on the hill, and fields expeel: the mower. Silence attends its flow progrefs aloft ; but the tempefl: is foon to arife. Swaran be- held the terrible king of Morven. He (topped in the midft of his courfev Dark he leaned on his fpear, rolling his red eyes around. Silent and tall he feemed as an oak on the banks of Lubar, which had its branches blafled of old by the lightning of heaven. It bends over
own times. Several of thefe war fongs are extant, but the molt of them are only a group of epithets, without either beauty or harmony, utterly deftitute of poetical merit.
4 the
266 F I N G A L, Book IV.
the dream : the grey mofs whiftles in the wind : fo flood the king. Then flowly he retired to the rifing heath of Lena. His thoufands pour around the hero. Darknefs gathers on the hill !
Fingal, like a beam from heaven, fhone in the midft of his people. His heroes gather around him. He fends forth the voice of his power. " Raife my ftandards on high ; fpread them on Lena's wind, like the flames of an hundred hills ! Let them found on the winds of Erin, and remind us of the fight. Ye fons of the roaring ftreams, that pour from a thou- fand hills, be near the king of Morven ! attend to the words of his power ! Gaul ftrongefi: arm of death ! O Ofcar, of the future fights ! Connal, fon of the blue fhields of Sora ! Der- mid of the dark- brown hair ! Oflian king of many fongs, be near your father's arm !" We reared the fun beam * of battle; the ftandard of the king ! Each hero exulted with joy, as, waving, it flew on the wind. It was ftudded with gold above, as the blue wide fhell of the nightly fky. Each hero had his flandard too j and each his gloomy men !
" Behold," faid the king of generous fhells, " how Lochlin divides on Lena ! They fland like broken clouds on a hill ; or an half con- fumed grove of oaks ; when we fee the Iky through its branches, and the meteor pafling
* Fingal's flandard was diftlnguifhed by the name of fun-beam : probably on account of its bright colour, and its being ftudded with gold. To begin a battle is ex- prefied, in old compofi'tioji, by lifting of the fun-beam.
3 behind !
Book IV. AN EPIC POEM, 267
behind ! Let every chief among the friends of Fingal take a dark troop of thole that frown fo high : nor let a fon of the echoing groves bound on the waves of Iniftore !"
" Mine," faid Gaul, " be the feven chiefs, that came from Lano's lake." " Let Iniflore's dark king," faid Ofcar, " come to the fword of Offian's fon." " To mine the king of Inifcon," faid Connal, " heart of fteel !" " Or Mudan's chief or I," faid brown-haired Der- mid, " fhall ileep on clay-cold earth." My choice, though now fo weak and dark, was Terman's battling king ; I profiled with my hand to win the hero's dark-brown fhield. " Bleft and victorious be my chiefs," faid Fingal of the mildeft look. " Swaran, king of roaring waves, thou art the choice of Fin- gal !"
Now, like an hundred different winds, that pour through many vales ; divided, dark the fons of Selma advanced. Cromla echoed around ! " How can I relate the deaths, when we clofed in the ftrife of arms ! O daughter of Tofcar! bloody were our hands! The gloomy ranks of Lochlin fell, like the banks of the roaring Cona ! Our arms were victo- rious on Lena : each chief fulfilled his pro- mife ! Befide the murmur of Branno thou didft often fir, O maid ! thy white bofom rofe frequent, like the down of the ivvan when flow fhe fwims on the lake, and fidc^ong winds blow on her ruffled v\ing. Thou haft feen the fun retire, red and ilow behind his cloud :
night
2<58 F I N G A L, Book IV,
night gathering round on the mountain, while the unfrequent blaft roared in the narrow vales. At length the rain beats hard : thun- der rolls in peals. Lightning glances on the rocks ! Spirits ride on beams of fire ! The ftrength of the mountain-ftreams comes roar- ing down the hills. Such was the noife of battle, maid of the arms of fnow ! Why, daughter of Tofcar, why that tear ? The maids of Lochlin have caufe to weep ! The people of their country fdh Bloody were the blue fwords of the race of my heroes ! But I an" :\d, forlorn, rnd blind : no more the companion of heroes ! Give, lovely maid, to ine thy tears. I have feen the tombs of all my friends 1"
It was then, by Fingal's hand, a hero fell, to his grief! Grey-haired he rolled in the duft. He lifted his faint eyes to the king : " And is it by me thou halt fallen," faid the fon of Comhal, " thou friend of Agandecca ! I have feen thy tears for the maid of my love in the halls of the bloody StarnoJ Thou haft been the foe of the foes of my love, and haft thou fallen by my hand ? Raife, Ullin, raife the grave of Mathon ; and give his name to Agan- decca's fong. Dear to my ioul haft thou been, thou darkly-dwelling maid of Ardven I"
Cuthullin, from the cave of Gromla, heard the. noife of the troubled war. He called to Connal chief of fwords ; to Carril of other times. The grey-haired heroes heard his voice. They took their pointed ipears. They came,
and
Book IV. AN EPIC POEM, 269
and faw the tide of battle, like ocean's crowded waves : when the dark wind blows from the deep, and rolls the billows through the fandy vale ! Cuthullin kindled at the fight. Dark- nefs gathered on his brow. His hand is on the fword of his fathers : his red rolling eyes on the foe. He thrice attempted to rum to battle. He thrice was ftopt by Connal. " Chief of the ifle of mift," he faid, " Fingal fub- dues the foe. Seek not a part of the fame of the king ; himfelf is like the ftorm !"
" Then, Carril,go," replied the chief, " go, greet the king of Morven. When Lochlin falls away like a ftream after rain : when the noife of the battle is pad. Then be thy voice fweet in his ear to praife the king of Selma ! Give him the fword of Caithbat. Cuthullin is not worthy to lift the arms of his fathers ! Come, O ye ghofts of the lonely Cromla ! ye fouls of chiefs that are no more ! be near the fteps of Cuthullin ; talk to him in the cave of his grief. Never more fhali I be renowned, among the mighty in the land. I am a beam that has fhone ; a mift that has fled away : when the blaft of the morning came, and brightened the fliaggy fide of the hill : Con- nal ! talk of arms no more : departed is my fame. My fighs fhall be on Cromla's wind ; till my footfteps ceafe to be feen. And thou, white-bofomed Bragela, mourn over the fall of my fame : vanquifhed, I will never return to thee, thou fun beam of my foul 1"
F I N G
\ l
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM.
BOOK V
ARGUMENT to Book V.
Cuthullin and Connal ftill remain on the hill. Fingal and Swaran meet ; the combat is defcribed. Swaran is overcome, bound, and delivered over as a prifoner to the care of Offian and Gaul the fon of Morni ; Fin- gal, his younger fons, and Ofcar, (till purfue the enemy. The epifode of Orla a chief of Lochlin, who was mor- tally wounded in the battle, is introduced. Fingal, touched with the death of Orla, orders the purfuit to be discontinued ; and calling his fons together, he is informed that Ryno, the youngefl of them, was fiain. He laments his death, hears the (lory of Lamderg and GelchofTa, and returns towards the place where he had left Swaran. Carril, who had been fent by Cuthullin to congratulate Fingal on his victory, comes in the mean time to Oflian. The converfation of the two poets clofes the action of the fourth day.
C 273 ]
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC P O E M.
In SIX BOOKS.
BOOK V.
ON Cromla's refounding fide, Connal fpoke to the chief of the noble car. Why that gloom, fon of Semo ? Our friends are the mighty in fight. Renowned art thou, O war- rior ! many were the deaths of thy fteel. Often has Bregala met, with blue-rolling eyes of joy : often has (he met her hero, returning in the midfl of the valiant ; when his fword was red with flaughter : when his foes were filent in the fields of the tomb. Pleafant to her ears were thy bards, when thy deeds arofe in fong.
But behold the king of Morven ! He moves, below, like a pillar of fire. His ftrength is like the ftream of Lubar, or the wind of the echoing Gromla ; when the branchy forefts of night are torn from all their rocks ! Happy
vol. i. t are
274 F I N G A L, BookV.
are thy people, O Fingal ! thine arm (hall finiih their wars. Thou art the firft in their dan- gers : the wifeft in the days of their peace. Thou fpeakeft, and thy thoufands obey : ar- mies tremble at the found of thy fteel. Happy are thy people, O Fingai ! king of refounding Selma ! Who is that lb dark and terrible coming in the thunder of his couife? who but Starno's fon to meet the king of Morven ? Behold the battle of the chiefs ! it is the iiorm of the ocean, when two fpirits meet far dif- tant, and contend for the rolling of waves. The hunter hears the noife on his hill. He fees the high billows advancing to Ardven's fhore !
Such were the words of Connal, when the heroes met in fight. There was the clang of arms! there every blow, like the hundred hammers of the furnace ! Terrible is the bat- tle of the kings ; dreadful the look of their eyes. Their dark-brown fhields are cleft in twain. Their fteel flies, broken, from their helms. They fling their weapons down. Each rufhes tohis hero's grafp : their finewy arms bend round each other : they turn from fide to fide, and {train and ftretch their large fpread-r ing limbs below. But when the pride of their ftrength arofe, they (hook the hill with their herls. Rocks tumble from their places on high ; the green- headed bufhes are overturned. At length the ftrength of Swaran fell : the king of the groves is bound. Thus have I feen on Cona j but Cona I behold no more !
thus
Book V. AN EPIC POEM. 275
thus have I feen two dark hills, removed from their place, by the ftrength of the burfting ftream. They turn from fide to fide in their fall ; their tall oaks meet one another on high. Then they tumble together with all their rocks and trees. The ftreams are turned by their fide. The red ruin is feen afar.
" Sons of diftant Morven," faid Fingal : " guard the king of Lochlin ! He is ftrong as his thoufand waves. His hand is taught to war. His race is of the times of old. Gaul, thou firft of my heroes ; Oflian king of fongs, attend. He is the friend of Agandecca ; raife to joy his grief. But, Ofcar, Fillan, and Ryno, ye children of the race ! purfue Lochlin over Lena ! that no vefTel may hereafter bound, on the dark-rolling waves of Iniftore !"
They flew fudderi acrofs the heath. He flowly moved, like a cloud of thunder, when the fultry plain of fumrner is filent and dark ! His fword is before him as a fun-beam ; ter- rible as the ftreaming meteor of night. He came toward a chief of Lochlin, He fpoke to the fon of the wave. " Who is that fo dark and fad, at the rock of the roaring ftream ? He cannot bound over its courfe : how {lately is the chief ! His body fhield is on his fide ; his fpear, like the tree of the defert ! Youth of the dark-red hair, art thou of the foes of Fingal 1"
" I am a fon of Lochlin," he cries, " ftrong
is my arm in war. My fpoufe is weeping at
home. Orla fhall never return !" " Or fights
T 2 or
2^6 FINGAL, BookV.
or yields the hero ?" faid Fingal of the noble deeds ; " foes do not conquer in my prefence : my friends are renowned in the hall. Son of the wave, follow me, partake the feafl of my fhells : purfue the deer of my defert : be thou the friend of Fingal" <c No :" faid the hero, " I affift the feeble. My ftrength is with the weak in arms. My fword has been always unmatched, O warrior ! let the king of Mor- ven yield !" " I never yielded, Orla ! Fingal never yielded to man. Draw thy fword, and chufe thy foe. Many are my heroes !"
" Does then the king refufe the fight ?" faid Orla of the dark-brown fhield. " Fingal is a match for Orla : and he alone of all his race I" ** Bat, king of Morven, if I mail fall ; as one time the warrior muft die ; raife my tomb in the midft : let it be the greater! on Lena. Send, over the dark-blue wave, the fword of Orla to the fpoufe of his love ; that fhe may fhew it to her fon, with tears, to kindle his foul to war." " Son of the mournful tale," faid Fingal, " why doft thou awaken my tears ? One day the war- riors muft die, and the children fee their ufelefs arms in the hall. But, Orla, thy tomb ihall rife. Thy white-bofomed fpoufe ihall weep over thy fword."
They fought on the heath of Lena. Fee- ble was the arm of Orla. The fword of Fin- gal defcended, and cleft his fhield in twain. It fell and glittered on the ground, as the moon on the ruffled ftream. " King of Morven," faid the hero, " lift thy fword and pierce my
bread.
EookV. AN EPIC POEM. 277
bread. Wounded and faint from battle, my friends have left me here. The mournful tale fhall come to my love, on the banks of the {beamy Lota ; when fhe is alone in the wood, and the ruftling blaft in the leaves !"
" No;" faid the king of Morven, " I will never wound thee, Orla. On the banks of Lota let her fee thee, efcaped from the hands of war. Let thy grey- haired father, who, perhaps, is blind with age : let him hear the found of thy voice, and brighten within his hall. With joy let the hero rife, and fearch for his fon with his hands !" " But never will he find him, Fingal ;" faid the youth of the ftreamy Lota. " On Lena's heath I mull die : foreign bards fhall talk of me. My broad belt covers my wound of death. I give it to the wind !"
The dark blood poured from his fide, he fell pale on the heath of Lena. Fingal bent over him as he dies, and called his younger chiefs. " Ofcar and Fillan, my fons, raife high, the memory of Orla. Here let the dark- haired hero reft, far from the fpoufe of his love. Here let him reft in his narrow houfe, far from the found of Lota. The feeble will find his bow at home ; but will not be able to bend it. His faithful dogs howl on his hills ; his boars, which he ufed to purfue, rejoice. Fallen is the arm of battle ! the mighty among the valiant is low ! Exalt the voice, and blow the horn, ye fons of the king 01 Morven i Let us go back to Swaran, to fend the night T 3 away
%*l% F I N G A L, BookV,
away on fong. Fillan, Ofcar, and Ryno, fly over the heath of Lena. Where, Ryno, art thou, young Ion of fame? Thou art not wont to be the lad to anfwer thy father's ■voice !
" Ryno," faid Ullin firft of bards, « is with the awful forms of his fathers. With Trathal king of fhields ; with Trenmor of mighty deeds. The youth is low, the youth is pale, he lies on Lena's heath !" " Fell the fwifteft in the race," faid the king, " the firft to bend the bow ? Thou fcarce haft been known to me ! why did young Ryno fall ? But fleep thou foftly on Lena, Fingal fhall foon behold thee. Soon fhall my voice be heard no more, and my footfteps ceafe to be feen. The bards will tell of Fingal's name. The ftones will talk of me. But, Ryno, thou art low indeed 1 thou haft not received thy fame. Ullin, ftrike the harp for Ryno ; tell what the chief would have been. Farewell, thou firft in every field ! No more fhall I dired thy dart ! Thou that haft been fo fair ! I behold thee not. Farewell." * The tear is on the cheek of the king, for terrible was his fon in war. His fon ! that was like a beam of fire by night on a hill; when the forefts fink down in its courie, and the traveller trembles at the found ! But the winds drive it beyond the fteep. It finks from fight, and darknefs prevails.
" Whofefame is in that dark-green tomb r" begun the king of generous fliells ; four ftones with their heads of mofs (land there ! They
mark
BookV. AN EPIC POEM. 279
mark the narrow houfe cf death. Near it let Ryno reft. A neighbour to the brave let him lie. Some chief of fame is here, to fly, with my fon, on clouds. O Ullin ! raife the fongs of old. Awake their memory in their tomb. If in the field they never fled, my fon fhall reft by their fide. He mall red, far diftant from Morven, on Lena's refounding plains !" " Here/' faid the bard of fong, " here reft: the firft of heroes. Silent is Lamderg* in this place : dumb is Ullin king of i words : And who, foft fmiling from her cloud, mews me her face of love ? Why, daughter, why fo pale art thou, firft of the maids of Cromla ? Doft thou deep with the foes in battle, white- bo- fomed daughter of Tuathal ? Thou haft been the love of thoufands, but Lamderg was thy love. He came to Tura's mofTy towers, and, ftriking his dark buckler, fpoke : " Where is GelchofTa, my love, the daughter of the noble Tuathal ? I left her in the hall of Tura, when I fought with great Ulfada. Return foon, O Lamderg ! fhe faid, for here I fit in grief. Her white breaft role with fighs. Her cheek was wet with tears. But I fee her not coming to meet me ; to footh my foul after war. Silent is the hall of my joy I 1 hear not the voice of the bard. Bran f does not fhake his
chains
* Lamh-dhearg (ignines bloody hand. GelchofTa, white legged. Tuathal, furly. Ulfadda, long beard. Ferchios, the conqueror of men.
f Bran is a common name of grey-hounds to this day. It is a cuftom in the north of Scotland, to give the names
t 4 of
a8o F I N G A L. Book V.
chains at the gate, glad at the coming of Lamderg. Where is Gelchofla, my love, the mild daughter of the generous Tuathal ?"
<c Lamderg !" fays Ferchios, fon of Aidon, " Gelchofla moves ftately on Cromla. She and the maids of the bow purfue the flying deer !" " Ferchios !" replied the chief of Cromla, " no noife meets the ear of Lam- derg ! No found is in the woods of Lena. No deer fly in my fight. No panting dog purfues. I fee not Gelchofla my love, fair as the full moon fetting on the hills. Go, Ferchios, go to Allad *, the grey-haired fon of the rock. His dwelling is in the circle of Hones. He may know of the bright Gel- chofla !"
The fon of Aidon went. He fpoke to the ear of age. " Allad ! dweller of rocks : thou that trembled alone ! what faw thine eyes of age ?" " I faw," anfwered Allad the old, " Ullin the fon of Cairbar. He came, in dark- nefs, from Cromla. He hummed a furly fong, like a blaft in a leaflefs wood. He entered
of the heroes mentioned in this poem, to their dogs ; a proof that they are familiar to the ear, and their fame ge- nerally known.
* Allad is a druid : he is called the fon of the rock, from his dwelling in a cave ; and the circle of ftones here mentioned is the pale of the druidical temple. He is here confulted as one who had a fupernatural knowledge of things 5 from the druids, no doubt, came the ridicu- lous notion of the fecond fight, which prevailed in the highlands and ifles.
the
BookV. AN EPIC POEM. 281
the hall of Tura. " Lamderg," he faid, C| moft dreadful of men, fight, or yield to Ullin." " Lamderg," replied GelchofTa, " the fon of battle, is not here. He fights Ul- fada, mighty chief. He is not here, thou firft of men ! But Lamderg never yields. He will fight the fon of Cairbar !" " Lovely art thou," faid terrible Ullin, Ce daughter of the generous Tuathal. I carry thee to Cairbar's halls. The valiant (hall have Gelchofla. Three days I remain on Cromla, to wait that fon of battle, Lamderg. On the fourth GelchofTa is mine ; if the mighty Lamderg flies."
" Allad !" faid the chief of Cromla, « peace to thy dreams in the cave. Ferchios, found the horn of Lamderg, that Ullin may hear in his halls." Lamderg, like a roaring ftorm, afcended the hill from Tura. He hummed a furly fong as he went, like the noife of a fall- ing ftream. He darkly flood upon the hill, like a cloud varying its form to the wind. He rolled a flone, the fign of war. Ullin heard in Cairbar's hall. The hero heard, with joy, his foe. He took his father's fpear. A fmile brightens his dark-brown cheek, as he places his fword by his fide. The dagger glittered in his hand. He whittled as he went.
GelchofTa faw the fllent chief, as a wreath of mift afcending the hill. She ftruck her white and heaving breaft ; and filent, tearful, feared for Lamderg. " Cairbar, hoary chief of fhells," faid the maid of the tender hand, " I muft bend the bow on Cromla. I fee the dark- brown
SS2 F I N 0 A L, BookV.
brown hinds !" She hafted up the hill. In vain ! the gloomy heroes fought. Why fhould I tell to Selma's king, how wrathful heroes fight ? Fierce Ullin fell. Young Lamderg came, all pale, to the daughter of generous Tuathal 1 " What blood, my love ?" fhe trem- bling faid : " what blood runs down my war- riors' fide ?" " It is Ullin s blood," the chief replied, " thou fairer than the fnow ! Gel- chorTa, let me reft here a little while." The mighty Lamderg died 1 " And fleepeft thou fo foon on earth, O chief of fhady Tura ?" Three days me mourned befide her love. The hunters found her cold. They raifed this tomb above the three. Thy ion, O king of Morven, may reft here with heroes !
" And here my fon fhall reft," faid Fingal. " The voice of their fame is in mine ears. Fillan and Fergus ! bring hither Orla ; the pale youth of the dream of Lota ! Not unequalled ihall Ryno lie in earth, when Orla is by his fide. Weep, ye daughters of Morven ! ye maids of the ftreamy Lota weep ! Like a tree they grew on the hills. They have fallen like the oak of the defert ; when it lies acrofs a ftream, and withers in the wind. Ofcar ! chief of every youth ! thou feed how they have fallen. Be thou like them, on earth renowned. Like them the fong of bards. Terrible were their forms in battle ; but calm was Ryno in the days of peace. He was like the bow of the fhower feen far diftant on the ftream ; when the fun is letting on Mora j when filencc
dwells
Book V. AN EPIC POEM. 283
dwells on the hill of deer. Reft, youngeft of my ions ! reft, O Ryno ! on Lena. We too mall be no more. Warriors one day mu ft fall!"
Such was thy grief, thou king of fwords, when Ryno lay on earth. What muft the grief of Oflian be, for thou thyfelf art gone ! I hear not thy diftant voice on Cotia. My eyes per- ceive thee not. Often forlorn and dark I fit at thy tomb ; and feel it with my hands, When I think I hear thy voice, it is but the pafling blaft. Fingal has long fince fallen afleep, the ruler of the war !
Then Gaul and Offian fat with Swaran, on the foft green banks of Lubar. I touched the harp to pleafe the king. But gloomy was his brow. He rolled his red eyes towards Lena. The hero mourned his hoft. I railed mine eyes to Cromla's brow. I law the fon of ge- nerous Semo. Sad and flow, he retired, from his hill, towards the lonely cave of Tura. He law Fingal victorious, and mixed his joy with. grief. The fun is bright on his armour. Con- nal flowly ftrode behind. They funk behind the hill, like two pillars of the fire of night : when winds purfue them over the mountain, and the flaming heath refounds ! Befide a dream of roaring foam his cave is in a rock. One tree bends above it. The rufhing winds echo againlt its fides. Here refts the chief of Erin, the fon of generous Semo. His thoughts are on the battles he loft. The tear is on his cheek. He mourned the departure of his fame, that fled like the mift of Cona- O I gela ! thou art too for remote, to cheer the
foul
284 F I N G A L, Book V.
foul of the hero. But let him fee thy bright form in his mind : that his thoughts may re- turn to the lonely fun-beam of his love !
Who comes with the locks of age ? It is the fon of fongs. c< Hail, Carril of other times ! Thy voice is like the harp in the halls of Tura, Thy words are pleafant as the fhower which falls on the funny field. Carril of the times of old, why comeft thou from the fon of the generous Semo ?"
" Oflian, king of fwords," replied the bard, " thou beft can raife the fong. Long haft thou been known to Carril, thou ruler of war ! Often have I touched the harp to lovely Everallin. Thou too haft often join- ed my voice, in Branno's hall of generous fhells. And often, amidft our voices, was heard the mildeft Everallin. One day fhe fung of Cormac's fall, the youth who died for her love. I faw the tears on her cheek, and on thine, thou chief of men. Her foul was touched for the unhappy, though fhe loved him not. How fair among a thoufand maids was the daughter of generous Branno I"
" Bring not, Carril," I replied, " bring not her memory to my mind. My foul muft melt at the remembrance. My eyes muft have their tears. Pale in the earth is fhe, the foftly-blufhing fair of my love ! But fit thou on the heath, O bard ! and let us hear thy voice. It is pleafant as the gale of fpring, that fighs on the hunter's ear ; when he awakens from dreams of joy, and has heard the mufic of the fpirits of the hill I"
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC POEM.
BOOK VI.
ARGUMENT to Book VI.
Night comes on. Fingal gives a feaft to his army, at which Swaran is prefent. The king commands Ullin his bard to give thefong of peace ; a cuftom always ob- ferved at the end of a war. Ullin relates the actions of Trenmor, great grandfather to Fingal, in Scandina- via, and his marriage with Inibaca, the daughter of a king of Lochlin who was anceftor to Swaran ; which confideration, together with his being brother to Agan- decca, with whom Fingal was in love in his youth, in- duced the kingtoreleafe him, and permit him to return with the remains of his army, into Lochlin, upon his promife of never returning to Ireland, in a hoftile man- ner. The night is fpent in fettling Swaran's departure, in fongs of bards, and in a converfation in which the ftory of Grumal is introduced by Fingal. Morning comes. Swaran departs ; Fingal goes on a hunting party, and finding Cuthullin in the cave of Tura, com- forts him, and fets fail, the next day, for Scotland j whiqh concludes the poem.
[ 287 1
F I N G A L,
AN ANCIENT
EPIC P O E M.
In SIX BOOKS.
BOOK VI.
The clouds of night come rolling down, Darknefs refts on the fieeps of Cromla. The fears of the north arife over the rolling of Erin's waves : they fhew their heads of fire, through the flying mift of heaven. A diftant wind roars in the wood. Silent and dark is the plain of death ! Still on the dufky Lena arofe in my ears the voice of Carril. He fung of the friends of our youth ; the days of former years ; when we met on the banks of Lego : when we lent round thejoy of the fhell. Cromla anfwered to his voice. The ghofts of thofe he fung came in their milling winds. They were ieen to bend with joy, towards the found of their praiie !
Be thy foul bleft, O Carril ! in the midft of
thy eddying winds. O that thou wouldft
13 come
288 FINGAL, Book VI.
come to my hall, when I am alone by night ! And thou doft come, my friend. I hear often thy light hand on my harp ; when it hangs, on the diflant wall, and the feeble found touches my ear. Why doll thou not fpeak to me in my grief, and tell when I mall behold my friends ? But thou paffeft away in thy murmuring blafl ; the wind whiffles through the grey hair of Offian !
Now, on the fide of Mora, the heroes ga- thered to the feaft. A thoufand aged oaks are burning to the wind. The ftrength * of the fhells goes round. The fouls of warriors brighten with joy. But the king of Lochlin is filent. Sorrow reddens in the eyes of his pride. He often turned toward Lena. He remembered that he fell. Fingal leaned on the fhield of his fathers. His grey locks flowly waved on the wind, and glittered to the beam of night. He faw the grief of Swaran, and fpoke to the firft of bards.
" Raife, Ullin,raife the fong of peace. O footh my foul from war ! Let mine ear for- get, in the found, the difmal noife of arms. Let a hundred harps be near to gladden the king of Lochlin. He muft depart from us
* The ancient Celta? brewed beer, and they were no flrangers to mead. Several ancient poems mention wax lights and wine as common in the halls of Fingal. The Caledonians, in their frequent incurfions to the province, might become acquainted with thofe conveniences of life, and introduce them into their own country, among the booty which they carried from South Britain.
n with
Book VI. AN EPIC POEM. 289
with joy. None ever went fad from Fingal, Ofcar ! the lightning of my fword is againft the ftrong in fight. Peaceful it lies by my fide when warriors yield in war.5'
" Trenmor *,'' faid the mouth of fongs, " lived in the days of other years. He bounded over the waves of the north : companion of the florin ! The high rocks of the land of Lochlin ; its groves of murmuring founds ap- peared to the hero through mi ft ; he bound his white-bofomed fails. Trenmor purfued the boar, that roared through the woods of Gor- mal. Many had fled from its prefence : but it rolled in death on the fpear of Trenmor* Three chiefs, who beheld the deed, told of the mighty ftranger. They told that he ftood, like a pillar of fire, in the bright arms of his valour. The king of Lochlin prepared the feaft. He called the blooming Trenmor. Three days he feaft ed at Gormal's windy towers | and received his choice in the combat. The land of Lochlin had no hero, that yielded not to Trenmor. The fhell of joy went round with fongs, in praife of the king of Morven. He that came over the waves, the firft of mighty men !"
Now when the fourth grey morn arofe, the hero launched his fhip. He walked along the filent fhore, and called for the rulhing wind : for loud and diftant he heard the blaft mur-
* Trenmor was great grandfather to Fingal. The ftory is introduced to facilitate the difmiffion of Swaran.
VOL. 1. u muring
290 F I N G A L, Book VI.
muring behind the groves. Covered over with arms of fteel, a fon of the woody Gor- mal appeared. Red was his cheek and fair his hair. His fkin like the fnow of Morven. Mild rolled his blue and fmiling eye, when he fpoke to the king of fwords.
" Stay, Trenmor, ftay, thou firft of men, thou haft not conquered Lonval's fon. My fword has often met the brave. The wife fhun the ftrength of my bow." " Thou fair- haired youth," Trenmor replied, " I will not fight with Lonval's fon. Thine arm is feeble, fun- beam of youth ! Retire to Gormal's dark- brown hinds." " But I will retire," replied the youth, " with the fword of Trenmor ; and exult in the found of my fame. The virgins ihall gather with frniles, around him who con- quered mighty Trenmor. They mail figh with the fighs of love, and admire the length of thy fpear ; when I fhall carry it among thoufands ; when I lift the glittering point to the fun."
" Thou (halt never carry my fpear," faid the angry king of Morven. " Thy mother lhall find thee pale on the fhore ; and, looking over the dark-blue deep, fee the fails of him that flew her fon !" " I will not lift the fpear," replied the youth, " my arm is not ftrong with years. But, with the feathered dart, I have learned to pierce a diftant foe. Throw down that heavy mail of fteel. Trenmor is covered from death. I, firft, will lay my mail on earth. Throw now thy dart, thou king of Morven!"
i He
Book VI. AN EPIC POEM. 291
Pie faw the heaving of her breaft. It was the filler of the king. She had feen him in the hall : and loved his face of youth. The fpear dropt from the hand of Trenmor : he hent his red cheek to the ground. She was to him a beam of light that meets the fons of the cave ; when they revifit the fields of the fun, and bend their aching eyes !
" Chief of the windy Morven," begun the maid of the arms of fnow, " let me reft in thy bounding fhip, far from the love of Corlo. For he, like the thunder of the defert, is terri- ble to Inibaca. He loves me in the gloom of pride. He makes ten thoufand fpears !" "Reft thou mi peace," faid the mighty Trenmor^ " reft behind the fhield of my fathers. 1 will not fly from the chief, though he makes ten thoufand fpears !" Three days he waited on the fhore. He fent his horn abroad. He called Corlo to battle, from all his echoing hills* But Corlo came not to battle. The king of Lochlin defcends from his hall. He feafted on the roaring fhore. He gave the maid to Trenmor !
" King of Lochlin," faid Fingal, " thy blood flows in the veins of thy foe. Our fa- thers met in battle, becaufe they loved the ftrife of fpears. But often did they feaft in the hall : and fend round the joy of the fhell. Let thy face brighten with gladnefs, and thine ear delight in the harp. Dreadful as the ftorm of thine ocean, thou haft poured thy valour forth ; tby voice has been like the voice of U 2 thoufands
S*jr* F I N G A L, Book VI.
thoufands when they engage in war. Raife, to-morrow, raife thy white fails to the wind, thou brother of Agandecca ! Bright as the beam of noon, me comes on my mournful foul. I have feen thy tears for the fair one. I fpared thee in the halls of Starno ; when my fword was red with flaughter ; when my eye was full of tears for the maid. Or doft thou chufe the fight ? The combat which thy fa- thers gave to Trenmor is thine ! that thou mayeft depart renowned, like the fun fetting in the weft !"
" King of the race of Morven !" faid the chief of refounding Lochlin, " never will Swaran fight with thee, firft of a thoufand he- roes ! I have feen thee in the halls of Starno : few were thy years beyond my own. When lhall I, I faid to my foul, lift the fpear like the noble Fingal ? We have fought heretofore, O warrior, on the fide of the fhaggy Malmor ; after my waves had carried me to thy halls, and the feaft of a thoufand fhells was fpread. Let the bards fend his name who overcame to future years, for noble was the rtrife of Mal- mor ! But many of the fhips of Lochlin have loft their youths on Lena. Take thefe, thou king of Morven, and be the friend of Swaran ! When thy fons fhall come to Gormal, the feaft of {hells fhall be fpread, and the combat offered on the vale."
" Nor fhip," replied the king, " fhall Fin- gal take, nor land of many hills. The defert is enough to me, with all its deer and woods.
Rife
BookVI. AN EPIC POEM. 293
Rife on thy waves again, thou noble friend of Agandecca ! Spread thy white fails to the beam of the morning ; return to the echoing hills of Gormal ." " Bleft be thy foul, thou king of fhells,,s faid Swaran of the dark-brown fhield. " In peace thou art the gale of fpring. In war the mountain-ftorm. Take now my hand in friendfhip, king of echoing Selma ! Let thy bards mourn thofe who fell. Let Erin give the fons of Lochlin to earth. Raife high the mofly ftones of their fame : that the children of the north hereafter may behold the place where their fathers fought. The hunter may fay, when he leans on a moffy tomb, here Fingal and Swaran fought, the heroes of other years. Thus hereafter fhall he fay, and our fame fhall laft for ever !"
c< Swaran," faid the king of hills, " to-- day our fame is greateft. We fhall pafs away like a dream. No found will remain in our fields of war. Our tombs will be loft in the heath. The hunter fhall not know the place of our reft. Our names may be heard in fong. What avails it when our ftrength had ceafed ? O Oflian, Carril, and Ullin ! you know of heroes that are no more. Give us the fong of other years. Let the night pafs away on the found, and morning return with
We gave the fong to the kings. An hun- dred harps mixed their found with our voice, The face of Swaran brightened, like the full u 3 moon
i94 F I N G A L, Book VI.
moon of heaven ; when the clouds vanifh away, and leave her calm and broad in the midft of the fky !
" Where, Carril," faid the great Fingal, <c Carril of other times ! Where is the fon of Semo, the king of the ifle of mift ? Has he re-, tired like the meteor of death, to the dreary cave of Tura ?" " Cuthullin," faid Carril of other times, " lies in the dreary cave of Tura. His hand is on the fword of his ftrength. His thoughts on the battles he loft. Mournful is the king of fpears ; till now unconquered in war. He fends his fword to reft on the fide of Fingal : for, like the ftorm of the defert, thou haft fcattered all his foes. Take, O Fingal ! the fword of the hero. His fame is departed like mift, when it flies, before the ruftling wind, along the brightening vale."
" No ;'' replied the king, " Fingal fhall never take his fword. His arm is mighty in war : his fame fhall never fail. Many have been overcome in battle ; whole renown arofe from their fall, O Swaran ! king of refund- ing woods, give all thy grief away. The van- quifhed, if brave, are renowned. They are like the fun in a cloud, when he hides his face in the fouth, but looks again on the hills of grafs !
" Grumai was a chief of Cona. He fought the battle on every coaft. His foul rejoiced in blood ; his ear in the din of arms. He poured his warriors on Craca ; Craca's king met him
from
Book VI. AN EPIC POEM. i9S
from his grove : for then, within the circle of Brumo *, he fpoke to the ftone of power. Fierce was the battle of the heroes, for the maid of the bread of mow. The fame of the daughter of Craca had reached Grumal at the dreams of Cona: he vowed to have the wrhite-bofomed maid, or die on echoing Craca. Three days they ftrove together, and Grumal on the fourth was bound. Far from his friends they placed him in the horrid circle of Brumo ; where often, they faid, the ghofts of the dead howled round the ftone of their fear. But he afterwards fhone, like a pillar of the light of heaven. They fell by his mighty hand. Grumal had all his fame !"
" Raife, ye bards of other times," conti- nued the great Fingal, " raife high the praife of heroes : that my foul may fettle on their fame ; that the mind of Swaran may ceafe to be fad." They lay in the heath of Mora. The dark winds ruftled over the chiefs. A hundred voices, at once, arofe : a hundred harps were ftrung. They fung of other times ; the mighty chiefs of former years ! When now fhall I hear the bard ? When rejoice at the fame of my fathers ? The harp is not ftrung on Morven. The voice of mufic afcends not on Cona. Dead, with the mighty, is the bard. Fame is in the defert no more.
Morning trembles with the beam of the eaft \ it glimmers on Cromla's fide. Over
* This paffage alludes to the religion of the king of Craca.
u 4 Lena
796 FINGAL, Book VI.
Lena is heard the horn of Swaran. The fons of the ocean gather around. Silent and fad they rife on the wave. The blaft of Erin is behind their fails. White, as the mift of Mor- ven, they float along the fea. " Call," laid Fingal, " call my dogs, the long-bounding fons of the chafe. Call white-brealied Bran, and the furly flrength of Luath ! Fiilan, and Ryno ; but he is not here ! My fon reds on the bed of death. Fiilan and Fergus 1 blow the horn, that the joy of the chafe may arife : that the deer of Cromla may hear and ftart at the lake of roes."
The fhrill found fpreads along the wTood. The fons of heathy Cromla ariie. A thou-r fand dogs fly oft at once, grey-bounding through the heath. A deer fell by every dog ; three by the white-breafted Bran. He brought them, in their flight,, to Fingal, that the joy of the king might be great ! One deer fell at the tomb of Ryno. The grief of Fingal returned. He law how peaceful lay the ftone of him, who was the hrft at the chafe ! " No more (h?At thou rife, O my fon ! to partake of the feaft of Cromla. Soon will thy tomb be hid, and the grafs grow rank on thy grave. The fons of the feeble fhail pafs along. They (hall not know where the mighty lie.
" Offian and Fiilan, fons of my flrength ! Gaul, chief of the blue fteel of war ! let us afcend the hill to the cave of Tura. Let us find the chief of the battles of Erin. Are thefe the walls of Tura ? grey and lonely they
rife
Book VI. AN EPIC POEM, 297
rife on the heath. The chief of (hells is fad, and the halls are filent and lonely. Come, let us find Cuthullin, and give him all our joy. But is that Cuthullin, O Fillan, or a pillar of fmoke on the heath ? The wind of Cromla is on my eyes. I diftinguifh not my friend."
" Fingal I" replied the youth, " it is the fori of Semo ! Gloomy and fad is the hero ! his hand is on his fword. Hail to the fon of hat- tie, breaker of the fhields !" " Hail to thee," replied Cuthullin, " hail to all the fons of Morven ! Delightful is thy prefence,0 Fingal I it is the fun on Cromla ; when the hunter mourns his abfence for a feafon, and fees him between the clouds. Thy fons are like flars that attend thy courfe. They give light in the night. It is not thus, thou haft feen me, O Fingal ! returning from the wars of thy land : when the kings of the world * had fled, and joy returned to the hill of hinds!" " Many are thy words, Cuthullin," faid Con nan f of fmall renown. " Thy words are many, fon of Semo, but where are thy deeds in arms ? Why did we come, over ocean, to aid thy fee* ble fword ? Thou flyelt to thy cave of grief,
# This is the only paflage in die poem wherein the wars of Fingal againft the Romans are alluded to : the Roman emperor is diflinguiftied in old compofuion by the title of king of the world.
f Connan was of the family of Morni. He is mentioned in leveral other poems, and always appears with the fame character. The poet pafled him over in filtuce till now, and his behaviour here deferves no better ufage,
2 and
298 F I N G A L, Book VI.
and Connan fights thy battles. Refign to me thefe arms of light. Yield them, thou chief of Erin." u No hero," replied the chief, u ever fought the arms of Cuthuilin ! and had a thou- sand heroes fought them, it were in vain, thou gloomy youth ! I fled not to the cave of grief, till Erin failed at her ftrearns."
" Youth of the feeble arm," faid Fingal, " Connan, ceafe thy words ! Cuthuilin is re- nowned in battle ; terrible over the world. Often have I heard thy fame, thou ftormy chief of Inis-fail. Spread now thy white fails for the ifle of mill. See Bragela leaning on her rock. Her tender eye is in tears , the winds lift her long hair from her heaving breaft. She liftens to the breeze of night, to hear the voice of thy rowers * ; to hear the fong of the fea 1 the found of thy diftant harp !"
" Long fhall fhe liften in vain. Cuthuilin fhall never return ! How can I behold Bra- gela, to raiie the figh of her breaft? Fingal, I was always victorious, in battles of other fpears !" " And hereafter thou fhalt be vic- torious," faid Fingal of generous fhells. " The fame of Cuthuilin fhall grow, like the branchy tree of Cromla. Many battles await thee, O chief! Many (hall be the wounds of thy hand 1 Bring hither, Ofcar, the deer ! Pre-
* The practice of ringing when they row is univerfal among the inhabitants of the north-weft coaft of Scot- land and the ifles. It deceives time, and infpirits the rowers.
pare
SogkVI. AN EPIC POEM. 299
pare the feaft of fliells. Let our fouls re- joice after danger, and our friends delight in our prefence !"
We fat. We feafted. We fung. The foul of Cuthullin role. The ftrength of his arm returned. Gladnefs brightened along his face. Ullin gave the fong ; Carril raifed the voice. I joined the bards, and fung of battles pf the fpear. Battles ! where I often fought. Now I fight no more ! The fame of my former deeds is ceafed. I fit forlorn at the tombs of my friends !
Thus the night paffed away in fong. We brought back the morning with joy. Fingal arofe on the heath, and fhook his glittering fpear. He moved firft toward the plains of Lena. We followed in all our arms.
u Spread the fail," faid the king, <c feize the winds as they pour from Lena." We rofe on the wave with fongs. We ruined, with joy, through the foam of the deep.
L A T H M O N:
POEM,
x^RGUMENT.
Lathmon, a Britifh prince, taking advantage of Fingal's abfence on an expedition in Ireland, made a defcent on Morven, and advanced within fight of Selma, theioyal refidence. Fingal arrived in the mean time, and Lath- mon retreated to a hill, where his army was furprized by night, and himfelf taken prifoner by Oflian and Gaul the fon of Morni. The poem opens, with the firft ap- pearance of Fingal on the coaft of Morven, and ends, it may be fuppofed, about noon the next day.
[ 3°3 3
L A T H M O N
O E M,
Qelma, thy halls are filent. There is no ^ found in the woods of Morven. The wave tumbles alone on the coaft. The filent beam of the fun is on the field. The daughters of Morven come forth, like the bow of the ihower ; they look towards green Erin for the white fails of the king. He had promifed to return, but the winds of the north arofe !
Who pours from the eaftern hill, like a ftream of darknefs ? It is the hoft of Lathmon. He has heard of the abfence of Fingal. He trufts in the wind of the north. His foul brightens with joy. Why doft thou come, O Lathmon ? The mighty are not in Selma. Why corned thou with thy forward fpear ? Will the daughters of Morven fight ? But flop, O mighty ftream, in thy courfe ! Does not Lathmon behold thefe fails? Why doft thou vanifh, Lathmon, like the mift of the lake ? But the fqually ftorm is behind thee ; Fingal purfues thy fteps !
The king of Morven had ftarted from fleep, as we rolled on the dark-blue wave. He
ftretched
^04 L A T H M 0 N:
flretched his hand to his fpear, his heroes rofe around. We knew that he had feen his fa- thers, for they often defcended to his dreams, when the fword of the foe rofe over the land ; and the battle darkened before us. " Whither haft thou fled, O wind !" faid the king of Morven. " Doft thou ruftle in the chambers of the fouth, purfueft thou the mower in other lands ? Why doft thou not come to my fails ? to the blue face of my feas ? The foe is in the land of Morven, and the king is abfent far. But let each bind on his mail, and each a flume his fhield. Stretch every fpear over the wave ; let every fword be uniheathed. Lathmon* is before us with his hoft : he that fled f from Fingal on the plains of Lona. But he returns, like a collected ftream, and his roar is between our hills."
Such were the words of Fingal. We rufhed into Carmona's bay. Oflian afcended the hill : he thrice ftruck his bofly fhield. The rock of Morven replied : the bounding roes came forth. The foe was troubled in my pre- fence : he collected his darkened hoft. I ftood, like a cloud on the hill, rejoicing in the arms of my youth.
* It is faid by tradition, that it was the intelligence of Lathmon's invafion, that occafioned Fingal's return from Ireland ; though Oflian, more poetically, afcribes the caufe of Fingal's knowledge to his dream.
f He alludes to a battle wherein Fingal had defeated JLathmon.
Morni
A V O E M, $o$
Momi * fat beneath a tree, at the roaring Waters of Strumon f ; his locks of age are grey: he leans forward on his ftaff; young Gaul is near the hero, hearing the battles of his father. Often did he rife, in the fire of his foul, at the mighty deeds of Momi, The aged heard the found of OfJian's fhield : he knew the fign of war. He darted at once from his place. His grey hair parted on his back. He remembered the deeds of other years.
" My fon," he faid to fair-haired Gaul, c< I hear the found of war. The king of Morven is returned, his fignals are fpread on the wind. Go to the halls of Strumon ; bring his arms to Morni. Bring the fhield of my father's latter years, for my arm begins to fail. Take thou thy armour, O Gaul ! and rufh to the firft of thy battles. Let thine arm reach to the renown of thy fathers. Be thy courfe in the field* like the eagle's wing. Why fhouldft thou fear death, my fon ? the valiant fall with fame ; their fhields turn the dark ftrearn of dan- ger away ; renown dwells on their aged hairs. Doft thou not fee, O Gaul ! how the fteps of my age are honoured ? Morni moves forth,
* Morni was chief of a numerous tribe, in the days of Fingal, and his father Comhal. The laft-mentioned hero was killed in battle again ft Morni's tribe ; but the /alour and conduct of Fingal reduced them, at lad, to obedience. We find the two heroes perfectly reconciled in this poem.
f Stru'-mone,y?ra7w of the hill. Here the proper name of a rivulet in the neighbourhood of Selma.
vol. i. x and
$o6 1 A T H M O N:
and the young meet him, with awe, and ttfrri their eyes, with filent joy, on his courfe. But I never fled from danger, my fon ! my fwprd lightened through the darknefs of war. The ftranger melted before me ; the mighty were blafled in my prefence."
Gaul brought the arms to Morni : the aged warrior is covered with fteel. He took the fpear in his hand, which was ftained with the blood of the valiant. He came towards Fin- gal, his fon attended his fteps. The fon of Comhal arofe before him with joy, when he came in his locks of age.
" Chief of roaring Strumon !" faid the riling foul of Fingal ; "do I behold thee in arms, after thy ftrength has failed ? Often has Morni fhone in light, like the beam of the afcending fun ; when he difperfes the florins of the hill, and brings peace to the glittering fields. But why didft thou not reft in thine age ? Thy renown is in the fong. The people behold thee, and blefs the departure of mighty Morni. Why didft thou not reft in thine age ? The foe will vanifti before Fingal |"
" Son of Comhal," replied the chief, " the ftrength of Morni's arm has failed. I attempt to draw the iword of my youth, but it remains in its place. I throw the fpear, but it falls ihort of the mark. I feel the weight of my ihield. We decay like the grafs of the hill : cur ftrength returns no more. I have a fon, O Fingal! his foul has delighted in Morni's
deeds j
A P O E M. • 307
speeds ; but his fword has not been lifted againft a foe, neither has his fame begun. I come with him to war ; to direct his arm in light. His renown will be a light to my foul, in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people ! that the heroes would only fay, " Be- hold the father of Gaul !"
" King of Strumon," Fingal replied, " Gaul fhall lift the fword in fight. But he mall lift it before Fingal ; my arm fhall defend his youth. But reft thou in the halls of Selma; and hear of our renown. Bid the harp to be ftrung, and the voice of the bard to arife, that thofe who fall may rejoice in their fame ; and the foul of Morni brighten with joy. Oflian ! thou haft fought in battles ■: the blood of ftrangers is on thy (pear : thy courle be with Gaul, in the ftrife ; but depart not from the fide of Fingal ! left the foe mould find you alone, and your fame fail in my prefence.
" I faw * Gaul in his arms ; my foul was mixed with his. The fire of the battle was in his eyes ! he looked to the foe with joy. We fpoke the words of friendfhip in fecfet ; the lightning of our fwords poured together ; foe we drew them behind the wood, and tried the ftfength of our arms on the empty air*"
* Oflian (peaks. The contraft between the old anc* young heroes is itrongly marked. The circumftance of the latter's drawing their fwords is well imagined, and agrees with the impatience of young ibldiers juit enured upon action.
X 3 Night
$o* L A T H M O N:
Night came down on Morven. Fingal fat at the beam of the oak. Morni fat by his fide with all his grey waving locks. Their words wrere of other times, of the mighty deeds of their fathers. Three bards, at times, touched the harp : Ullin was near with his fong. He lung of the mighty Comhal ; but * darknefs gathered on Morni's brow. He rolled his red eye on Ullin : at once ceafed the fong of the bard. Fingal obferved the aged hero, and he mildly fpoke. " Chief of Strumon, why that darknefs ? Let the days of other years be for- got. Our fathers contended in war ; but we meet together, at the feaft. Our fwords are turned on the foe of our land : he melts be- fore us on the field. Let the days of our fa- thers be forgot, hero of mofly Strumon !"
tc King of Morven," replied the chief, " I remember thy father with joy. He was terrible in battle ; the rage of the chief was deadly. My eyes were full of tears, when the king of heroes fell. The valiant fall, O Fin- gal ! the feeble remain on the hills ! How many heroes have pafled away, in the days of Morni ! Yet I did not fhun the battle ; neither did I fly from the ftrife of the valiant. Now
* Ullin had chofen ill the fubjeft of his fong. The darknefs which gathered on Morni's brow, did not proceed from any diflike he had to Comhal's name, though they were foes, but from his fear that the fong would awaken Fingal to a remembrance of the feuds which had fubfiftelil of old between the families. Fingal's fpeech on this oc- cafion abounds with generofity and good fenfe.
let
A POEM. 309
let the friends of Fingal reft ; for the night is around ; that they may rife, with ftrength, to battle againft car-borne Lathmon. I hear the found of his hoft, like thunder moving on the hills. Oflian ! and fair-haired Gaul ! ye are young and fvvift in the race. Obierve the foes of Fingal from that woody hill. But ap- proach them not, your fathers are not near to ihield you. Let not your fame fall at once. The valour of youth may fail !"
We heard the words of the chief with joy. We moved in the clang of our arms. Our fteps are on the woody hill. Heaven burns with all its ftars. The meteors of death fly over the field. The diftant noife of the foe reached our ears. It was then Gaul fpoke, in his valour : his hand half unfrieathed his fword.
14 Son of Fingal !" he faid, " why burns the foul of Gaul ? My heart beats high. My fteps are difordered ; my hand trembles on my ivvord. When I look towards the foe, my foul lightens before me. I fee their fleeping hoft. Tremble thus the fouls of the valiant in bat- tles of the fpear ? How would the foul of Morni rife if we fhould rufh on the foe ! Our renown would grow in fong : our fteps would be ftately in the eyes of the brave.''
" Son of Morni," I replied, " my foul de- lights in war. I delight to fhine in battle alone, to give my name to the bards. But what if the foe fhould prevail ; can I behold the eyes of the king ? They are terrible in his difpleafure, and like the flames of death, x 1 Cut
3 ip L A T H M O N:
But I will not behold them in his wrath! Offiaa ihall prevail or fall. But fhall the fame of the vanquifhed rife ? They pafs like a made away. But the fame of Oflian mall rife ! His deeds fhall be like his father's. Let us rufti in our arms ; fon of Morni, let us rufh to fight. Gaul ! if thou fhouldfr. return, go to Selma's lofty hall. Tell to Everallin that I fell with fame ; carry this fword to Branno's daughter. Let her give it to Ofcar, when the years of his youth fhall arife."
" Son of Fingal," Gaul replied with a figh ; " fhall I return after Oflian is low ? What would my father fay, what Fingal the king of men ? The feeble would turn their eyes and fay, " Behold Gaul who left his friend in his blood 1" Ye fhall not behold me, ye feeble, but in the midfl of my renown ! (Mian ! I have heard from my father the mighty deeds of heroes ; their mighty deeds when alone ! for the foul increafes in danger."
" Son of Morni," I replied, and ftrode be- fore him on the heath, *' our fathers fhall praife over valour when they mourn our fall. A beam of gladnefs fhall rife on their fouls, when their eyes are full of tears. They will fay, " Our fons have not fallen unknown : they fpread death around them." But why mould we think of the narrow houfe ? The fword defends the brave. But death purities the flight of the feeble 3 their renown is never heard/*
We
A P O E M. 311
We rufhed forward through night ; we came to the roar of a ftream, which bent 11s blue courfe round the foe, through trees that echoed to its found. We came to the bank of the ftream, and faw the fleeping hofl. Their fires were decayed on the plain ; the lonely fteps of their fcouts were diftant far. I ftretched my fpear before me to fupport my fteps over the ftream. But Gaul took my hand, and fpoke the words of the braye. " Shall the fon of Fingal rufh on the fleeping foe ? Shall he come like a blaft by night, when it over- turns the young trees in fecret? Fingal did not thus receive his fame, nor dwells renown on the grey hairs of Morni, for a&ions like thefe. Strike, Offian, ftrike the fhield, and let their thoufands rife ! Let them meet Gaul in his firft battle, that he may try the ftrength of his arm."
My foul rejoiced over the warrior : my burfting tears came down. " And the foe mall meet thee, Gaul !" I faid ; " the fame of Morni's fon mall arife. But rufh not too far, my hero : let the gleam of thy fteel be near to Offian, Let our hands join in (laughter. Gaul ! doft thou not behold that rock ? Its grey fide dimly gleams to the ftars. Should the foe prevail, let our back be towards the rock. Then mail they fear to approach our fpears ; for death is in our hands !"
I flruck thrice my echoing fhield. The
flatting foe arofe. We rufhed on in the found
of our arms. Their crowded fteps fly oyer
x 4 the
312 L A T H M O N:
the heath. They thought that the mighty Fingal was come. The ftrength of their arms withered away. The found of their flight was like that of flame, when it rufhes through the blafted groves. It was then the fpear of Gaul flew in its ftrength ; It was then his fword arofe. Cremor fell ; and mighty Leth. Dun- thormo ftruggled in his blood. The fteel ruihed through Crotho's fide, as bent, he rofe on his fpear ; the black ftream poured from the wound, and hifTed on the half-extinguifhed oak. Cathmin faw the fteps of the hero be- hind him, he afcended a blafted tree ; but the fpear pierced him from behind. Shriek- ing, panting, he fell. Mofs and withered branches purfue his fall, and ftrew the blue arms of Gaul.
Such were thy deeds, fon of Morni, in the firft of thy battles. Nor flept the fword by thy fide, thou laft of Fingal's race ! Offian ruihed forward in his ftrength ; the people fell before him ; as the grafs by the ftaflf of the boy, when he whiftles along the field, and the grey beard of the thiftle falls. But carelefs the youth moves on ; his fteps are towards the defert. Grey morning rofe around us \ the winding ftreams are bright along the heath. The foe gathered on a hill ; and the rage of Lathmon rofe. He bent the red eye of his wrath : he is filent in his rifing grief. He often (truck his bofly fhield ; and his fteps are unequal on the heath. I faw the diftant dark- nefs of the hero, and I fpoke to Morni's fon.
13 " Gas-
A P O E M. 313
"Car-borne chief of Strumon, doft thou behold the foe ? They gather on the hill in their wrath. Let our fteps be towards the king *. He fhall rife in his ftrength, and the hoft of Lathmon vaniih. Our fame is around us, warrior, the eyes of the aged f will rejoice. But let us fly, fon of Morni, Lathmon defcends the hill," " Then let our fteps be flow," re- plied the fair-haired Gaul ; " left the foe fay, with a fmile, " Behold the warriors of night. They are, like ghofts, terrible in darknefs; they melt away before the beam of the eafV Offian, take the fhield of Gormar who fell be- neath thy fpear. The aged heroes will rejoice beholding the deeds of their fons."
Such were our words on the plain, when Sulmath X came to car-borne Lathmon : Sul- math chief of Dutha at the dark-rolling ftream of Duvranna §. " Why doft thou not rufh, fon of Nuath, with a thoufand of thy heroes ? Why doft thou not defcend with thy hoft, be- fore the warriors fly ? Their blue arms are beaming to the rifing light, and their fteps are before us on the heath 1"
a Son of the feeble hand," faid Lathmon, <* fhall my hoft defcend ! They are but two,
* Fingal. f Fingal and Morni.
J Suil-mhath, a man of good eye-fight.
§ Dubh-bhranna, dark mountain -flr earn* A river in Scotland, which falls into the fea at Banff, ftill retains the; name of Duvran. If that is meant in this paflage, Lath- mon muft have been a prince of the Pictilh nation, or thofe Caledonians who inhabited of old the eaftern coall of Scotland.
fon
3i4 L A T H M O N:
ion of Dutha ! fhall a thoufand lift their fteel ! Nuath would mourn, in his hall, for the de- parture of his fame. His eyes would turn from Lathmon, when the tread of his feet ap- proached. Go thou to the heroes, chief of Dutha ! I behold the ftately fteps of Oflian. His fame is worthy of my fteel ! let us con- tend in fight.
The noble Sulmath came. I rejoiced in the words of the king. I railed the fhield on my arm ; Gaul placed in my hand the fword of Morni. We returned to the mur muring ftream ; Lathmon came down in his ftrength. His dark hoft rolled, like clouds, behind him ; but the fori of Nuath was bright in his fteel !
" Son of Fingal," faid the hero, " thy fame has grown on our fall. How many lie there of my people by thy hand, thou king of men ! Lift now thy fpear againft Lathmon ; lay the fon of Nuath low ! Lay him low among his warriors, or thou thyfelf muft fall ! It fhall never be told in my halls that my peo- ple fell in my prefence ; that they fell in the prefence of Latamon when his fword refted by his lide : the blue eyes of Cutha would roll in tears ; her fteps be lonely in the vales of Dunlathmon !"
" Neither fhall it be told," I replied, " that the fon of Fingal fled. Were his fteps co- vered with darknefs, yet would not Oflian fly ! his foul would meet him and fay, " Does the bard of Selma fear the foe ?" '"'No: he does not fear the foe. His joy is in the midft of battle !" 3 Lathmon
A POEM. 315
Lathmon came on with his fpear. He pierced the fhield of Offian. I felt the cold deel by my fide. I drew the fword of Morni. I cut the fpear in twain. The bright point fell glittering on earth. The fon of Nuath burnt in his wrath. He lifted high his found- ing fhield. His dark eyes rolled above it, as bending forward, it fhone like a gate of brafs ! But Offian's fpear pierced the brightnefs of its bofTes, and funk in a tree that rofe behind. The fhield hung on the quivering lance ! but Lathmon dill advanced ! Gaul forefaw the fall of the chief. He dretched his buckler before my fword ; when it defcended, in a dream of light, over the king of Dunlathmon 1
Lathmon beheld the fon of Morni. The tear darted from his eye. He threw the fword of his fathers on earth, and fpoke th€ words of the brave. " Why mould Lathmon fight againd the fird of men? Your fouls are beams from heaven ; your fwords the flames of death ! Who can equal the renown of the heroes, whofe deeds are fo great in youth ? O that ye wTere in the halls of Nuath, in the green dwelling of Lathmon! then would my rather fay, that his fon did not yield to the weak. But who comes, a mighty dream, along the echoing heath? the little hills are troubled before him ; a thoufand ghoits are on the beams of his deel ; the ghods of thofe who are to fall *, by the arm of the king of refound-
* It was thought in Offian's time, that each perfon had his attending fpirit. The traditions concerning this opi- nion art durk and unfatisfa&ory.
ing
3i6 h A T H M O N.
ing Morven. Happy art thou, O Fingal ! thy Tons mall fight thy wars. They go forth be- fore thee ; they return with the fteps of their renown !"
Fingal came, in his mildnefs, rejoicing in fecret over the . deeds of his fon. Morni's face brightened with gladnefs ; his aged eyes look faintly through tears of joy. We came to the halls of Selma. We fat around the feaft of fhells. The maids of fong came into our prefence, and the mildly blufhing Everallin ! Her hair fpreads on her neck of fnow, her eye rolls in fecret on Offian. She touched the harp of mufic ; we bleffed the daughter of Branno !
Fingal rofe in his place, and fpoke to Lath- mon king of fpears. The fword of Trenmor fhook by his fide, as high he raifed his mighty arm. " SonofNuath," he faid, " why doft thou fearch for fame in Morven ? We are not of the race of the feeble ; our fwords gleam not over the weak. When did we roufe thee, O Lathmon! with the found of war ? Fingal does not delight in battle, though his arm is ftrong ! My renown grows on the fall of the haughty. The light of my fteel pours on the proud in arms. The battle comes ! and the tombs of the valiant rife ; the tombs of my people rife, O my fathers ! I at laft muft remain alone ! But I will remain renowned ; the departure of my foul fhall be a ftream of light. Lathmon ! retire to thy place ! Turn thy battles to other lands ! The race of Mor-r ven are renowned 5 their foes are the fons of the unhappy !"
D A R-T HULA
POEM.
Argument.
It may not be improper here, to give the ftory which fa the foundation of this poem, as it is handed down by tradition. Ufnoth lord of Etha, which is probably that part of Argylefhire which is near Loch Eta, an arm of the fea in Lorn, had three fons, Nathos, Althos, and Ardan, by Sliilama, the daughter of Semo, and filler to the celebrated Cuthullin. The three brothers^ when very young, were fent over to Ireland, by their father, to learn 'the ufe of arms, under their uncle Cuthullin, who made a great figure in that kingdom. They were juft landed in Ulfter, when the news of Cuthullin's death arrived. Nathos, though very young, took the command of Cuthullin's army, made head againft Cairbar the ufurper, and defeated him in feveral battles. Cairbar at laft having found means to murder Cormac thcr lawful king, the army of Nathos fhifted fides, and he himfelf was obliged to return into Ulfter* in order to pafs over into Scotland*
Dar-thula, the daughter of Colla, with whom Cair- bar was in love, refided, at that time, in Selama, a cattle in Ulfter : fhe faw, fell in love, and fled with Nathos j but a ftorm rifmg at fea they were unfortu- nately driven back on that part of the coatt of Ulfter, where Cairbar was encamped with his army. The three brothers, after having defended themfelves, for fome time, with great bravery, were overpowered and flain, and the unfortunate Dar-thula killed herfelf upon the body of her beloved Nathos.
The poem opens, on the night preceding the death of the fons of Ufnoth, and brings in, by way of epi- fode, what panned before. It relates the death of Dar* thula differently from the common tradition ; this ac* count is the mod probable, as fuicide feems to have been unknown in thofe early times : for no traces of it are found in the old poetry.
t "3*9 ]
D A R*-T H U L A:
A
POEM.
Daughter of heaven, fair art thou! tlte filence of thy face is pleafant ! Thou corned forth in lovelinefs. The ftars attend thy blue courie in the eaft. The clouds re- joice in thy prefence, O moon ! They brighten their dark-brown fides. Who is like thee in heaven, light of the lilent night ? The ftars are afhamed in thy prefence. They turn away their fparkling eyes. Whither doft thou re- tire from thy courfe, when the darknefs of thy countenance grows ? Haft thou thy hall, like Oflian ? Dwelled thou in the fhadow of grief? Have thy fifters fallen from heaven ? Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more I Yes ! they have fallen, fair light ! and thou doft often retire to mourn. But thou thyfelf fhalt fail, one night ; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The ftars will then lift their heads: they, who were afhamed in thy prefence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightnefs. Look from thy gates in the fky. Burft the cloud, O wind ! that the daughter of night may look forth! that the fhaggy moun- tains
32o DAR-THULA:
tains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves, in light.
Nathos* is on the deep, and Althos, that beam of youth. Ardan is near his brothers. They move in the gloom of their courfe. The fons of Ufnoth move in darknefs, from the •wrath of Cairbar f of Erin. Who is that, dim by their fide ? The night has covered her beauty ! Her hair fighs on ocean's wind. Her robe ftreams in dufky wreaths. She is like the fair fpirit of heaven in the midft of his fhadowy mift. Who is it but Dar-thula J, the firft of Erin's maids ? She has fled from the love of Cairbar, with blue-fhielded Nathos. But the winds deceive thee, O Dar-thula ! They deny the woody Etha, to thy fails. Thefe are not the mountains of Nathos ; nor is that the roar of his climbing waves. The halls of Cairbar are near : the towers of the foe lift their heads ! Erin ftretches its green head into the fea. Tura's bay receives the (hip. Where have ye been, ye fouthern winds ! when the fons of my love were de- ceived ? But ye have been fporting on plains,
* Nathos fignilies, youthful \ Althos, exquifite beauty \ Ardan, pride.
\ Cairbar, who murdered Cormac king of Ireland, and ufurpcd the throne. He was afterwards killed by Ofcar the fon of Oman in a (ingle combat. The poet, upon other occafions, gives him the epithet of red-haired.
{ Dar-thula, or Dart-'huile, a woman with fine eyes. She was the molt famous beauty of antiquity. To this day, when a woman is praifed for her beauty, the common phrafe is, thatyft*? is as lovely as Dar-thula*
purfuing
A POEM. 3*1
purfuing the thiftle's beard. O that ye had been ruftling in the fails of Nathos, till the hills of Etha arofe ! till they arofe in their clouds, and faw their returning chief ! Long haft thou been abfent, Nathos ! the day of thy return is pad !
But the land of ftrangers faw thee, lovely ! thou waft lovely in the eyes of Dar-thula. Thy face was like the light of the morning* Thy hair like the raven's wing. Thy foul was generous and mild, like the hour of the fetting fun. Thy words were the gale of the reeds ; the gliding ftream of Lora ! But when the rage of battle role, thou waft a fea in a ftorm. The clang of thy arms was terrible : the hoft vanifhed at the found of thy courfe. It was then Dar-thula beheld thee, from the top of her mofly tower : from the tower of Selama*, where her fathers dwelt.
" Lovely art thou, O ftranger !" fhe faid, for her trembling foul arofe. " Fair art thou in thy battles, friend of the fallen Cormacf! Why doft thou rum on in thy valour, youth of the ruddy look ? Few are thy hands in fight, againft the dark-brown Cairbar ! O that I
* The word fignifies either beautiful to behold^ or a place with a pleafant or wide profpecl. In early times, they built their houfes upon eminences, to command a view of the country, and to prevent their being furprized : many of them, on that account, were called Seiama. The famous Selma of Fingal is derived from the. fame root.
f Cormac the young king of Ireland, who was pri- vately murdered by Cairbar.
• vol. i. y might
322 DAR-THULA:
might be freed from bis love * ! that I might rejoice in the prefence of Nathos ! Bleft are the rocks of Etha ! they will behold his fteps at the chafe ! they will fee his white bofom, when the winds lift his flowing hair!" Such were thy words, Dar-thula, in Selama's mo fly towers. But, now, the night is around thee. The winds have deceived thy fails. The winds have deceived thy fails, Dar-thula! Their bluftering found is high. Ceafe a little while, O north wind ! Let me hear the voice of the lovely. Thy voice is lovely, Dar-thula, be- tween the ruftling blafts !
w Are thefe the rocks of Nathos?" fhe faid, V this the roar of his mountain-ftreams ? Comes that beam of light from Ufnoth's nightly hall? The miftfpreads around ; the beam is fee- ble and diftant far. But the light of Dar-thula's foul dwells in the chief of Etha 1 Son of the generous Ufnoth, why that broken figh ? Are we in the land of ftrangers, chief of echoing Etha 1"
" Thefe are not the rocks of Nathos," he replied, " nor this the roar of his ftreams. No light comes from Etna's halls, for they are diftant far. We are in the land of ftrangers, in the land of cruel Cairbar. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula. Erin lifts here her hills. Go towards the north, Althos : be thy fteps, Ardan, along the coaft ; that the foe may not come in darknefs, and our hopes of Luha fail." " I will go towards that mofiy
• Th.it is, of the love of Cairbar,
tower,
A POEM, 325
tower, to fee who dwells about the beam. Reft, Dar-thula, on the fhore ! reft in peace, thou lovely light ! the fword of Nathos is around thee, like the lightning of heaven I"
He went. She fat alone ; fhe heard the rolling of the wave. The big tear is in her eye. She looks for returning Nathos. Her foul trembles at the blaft. She turns her ear towards the tread of his feet. The tread of his feet is not heard. " Where art thou, fon of my love ! The roar of the blaft is around me. Dark is the cloudy night. But Nathos does not return. What detains thee, chief of Etha ? Have the foes met the hero in the ftrife of the night ?"
He returned, but his face was dark. He had feen his departed friend ! It was the wall of Tura. The ghoft of Cuthullin ftalked there alone : the fighing of his breait was frequent* The decayed flame of his eyes was terrible I His fpear was a column of mift. The ftars looked dim through his form. His voice was like hollow wind in a cave : his eye a light feen afar. He told the tale of grief. The foul of Nathos was fad, like the fun in the day of mift, when his face is watry and dim.
" Why art thou fad, O Nathos ?" faid the lovely daughter of Colla. " Thou art a pillar of light to Dar-thula. The joy of her eyes is in Etna's chief. Where is my friend, but Nathos ? My father, my brother is fallen ! Silence dwells in Selama. Sadnefs fpreads on the blue ftrearas of my land* My friends Y 2 have
324 DAR-THULA:
have fallen with Cormac. The mighty were (lain in the battles of Erin. Hear, fon of Efnoch ! hear, O Nathos ! my tale of grief.
" Evening darkened on the plain. The blue ftreams failed before mine eyes. The un- frequent blaft came ruftling, in the tops of Selama's groves. My feat was beneath a tree, on the wails of my fathers. Truthil paft be- fore my foul ; the brother of my love : • he that was abfent in battle, againft the haughty Cairbar ! Bending on his fpear, the grey- haired Colla came. His downcaft face is dark, and forrow dwells in his foul. His fword is 011 the fide of the hero: the helmet of his lathers on his head. The battle grows in his b-reaft. He ftrives to hide the tear."
" Dar-thula, my daughter," hefaid, " thou art the laft of Colla's race ! Truthil is fallen in battle. The chief of Selama is no morel Cairbar comes, with his thoufands, towards Selama's walls. Colla will meet his pride, and revenge his fon. But where {hall I find thy ufety, Darthula with the dark-brown hair! t*hou art lovely as the fun-beam of heaven, and thy friends are low P <; Is the fon of battle fallen ?" I faid, with a burfting figh. " Ceafed the generous foul of Truthil to lighten through the field ? My fafety, Colla, is in that bow. 1 have learned to pierce the deer. Is not Cairbar, like the hart of the defert, father of fallen Truthil V'
" The face of age brightened with joy. The crowded tears of his eyes poured down.
The
A P O E M.
The lips of Cblla trembled. His grey beard whittled in the blaft. " Thou art the lifter of Truthil," he faid ; " thou burneft in the fire of his foul. Take, Dar-thula, take that fpear, that brazen fhield, that burnifhed helm: they are the fpoils of a warrior, a fon of early youth! When the light rifes on Selama, we go to meet the car-borne CairbcU*. But keep thou near the arm of Colla, beneath the fhadow of mv Ihield. Thy father, Dar-thula, could once de- fend thee ; but age is trembling on his hand. The ftrength of his arm has failed. His foul is darkened with grief."
" We pafTed the night in forrow. The light of morning role. I fhone in the arms of battle. The grey-haired hero moved before. The fons of Selama convened, around the founding Ihield of Colla. But few were they in the plain, and their locks were grey. The youths had fallen with Truthil, in the battle of car-borne Cormac. " Friends of my youth V9 faid Colla, " it was not thus you have ken me in arms. It was not thus I ftrode to battle, when the great Confaden fell. But ye are laden with grief. The darknefs of age comes like the mill of the defert. My ihield is worn with years ! my fword is fixed* in its place I
* It was the cuftom of ancient times, thnt every war- rior, at a certain age, or when he became unfit for the field, fixed his arms in the great hall, where the tribe feafled upon joyful occafions. He was afterwards never to appear in battle ; and this ftage of life was called th$ time of fixing the arms.
Y % I faid
$i6 DAR-THULA:
I faicl to my foul, thy evening fhall be calm : thy departure like a fading light. But the ftorm has returned. I bend like an aged oak. My boughs are fallen on Selama. I tremble in my place. Where art thou, with thy fallen heroes, O my beloved Truthil ! Thou an- fwereft not from thy ruining blaft. The foul of thy father is fad. But I will be fad no more, Cairbar or Colia mud fall ! I feel the re- turning flrength of my arm. My heart leaps at the found of war."
" The hero drew his fword. The gleaming blades of his people rofe. They moved along the plain. Their grey hair ftreamed in the wind. Cairbar fat at the feaft, in the filent plain of Lona *• He faw the coming of the heroes. He called his chiefs to war. Whyf fhould I tell to Nathos, how the ftrife of bat- tle grew ? I have feen thee in the midft of thoufands, like the beam of heaven's fire : it is beautiful, but terrible ; the people fall in its dreadful courfe. The fpear of Colla flew. He remembered the battles of his youth. An ar-
* Lona, a tnarjhy plain* Cairbar had juft provided an entertainment for his army, upon the defeat of Truthil the fon of Colla, and the reft of the party of Cormac, when Colla and his aged warriors arrived to give him battle.
-{- The poet, by an artifice, avoids the description of the battle of Lona, as it would be improper hi the mouth of a woman, and could have nothing new, after the numerous' defcriptions, of that kind, in the reft of the poems. He, at the fame time, gives an opportunity to JL)ar (hula to pafs a fine compliment on her iover,
row
A P O E M. 327
row came with its found. It pierced the he- roe's fide. He fell on his echoing (hield. My foul ftarte'd with fear. 1 ftretched my buckler over him ; hut my heaving bread was feen t Cairbar came with his fpear. He beheld Se- lama's maid. Joy rofe on his dark-brown face. He ftaycd the lifted fteel. He railed the tomb of Colla. He brought me weeping to Selama. He fpoke the words of love, but my foul was fad. I faw the fhields of my fathers ; the fword of car-borne Truthil. I faw the arms of the dead ; the tear was on my cheek ! Then thou didft come, O Nathos ! and gloomy Cairbar fled. He fled like the ghoft of the defert before the morning's beam. His hoft was not near: and feeble was his arm againft thy fteel ! Why art thou fad, O Nathos ! faid the lovely daughter of Colla?"
*c I have met,*' replied the hero, " the bat- tle in my youth. My arm could not lift the fpear when danger firft arofe. My foul brightened in the prefence of war, as the green narrow vale, when the fun pours his ftreamy beams, before he hides his head in n. florin. The lonely traveller feels a mournful joy. He fees the darknefs, that flowly comes. My foul brightened in danger before I faw Selama's fair ; before I faw thee, like a ftar, that mines on the hill, at night : the cloud advances, and threatens the lovely light ! We are in the land of foes. The winds have deceived us, Dar- thula ! The ftrength of our friends is not near, nor the mountains of Etha. Where (hall I
y 4 find
328 D A R-T H U L A:
find thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla ! The brothers of Nathos are brave ! and his own fword has fhone in fight. But what are the fons of Uinoth to the hoft of dark-browed Gairbar ! O that the winds had brought thy fails, Ofcar* king of men ! Thou didft pro- mife to come to the battles of fallen Cormac { Then would my hand be ftrong, as the flaming arm of death. Cairbar would tremble in his halls, and peace dwell round thy lovely Dar- thula. But why dofl: thou fall, my foul ? The fons of Ufnoth may prevail !*'
** And they will prevail, O Nathos !" faid the riling foul of the maid. " Never fhall Dar-thula behold the halls of gloomy Cairbar. Give me thofe arms of brafs, that glitter to the pafling meteor. I fee them dimly in the dark-bofomed fhip. Dar-thula will enter the battle of fteel. Ghoft of the noble Colla ! do I behold thee on that cloud ? Who is that dim befide thee ? Is it the car-borne Truthil ? Shall I behold the halls of him that flew Selama's chief ? No : I will not behold them, fpirits of my love !"
Joy rofe in the face of Nathos, when he heard the white-bofomed maid. " Daughter of Selama ! thou fhineft along my fouL Come, with thy thoufands, Cairbar ! the flrength of
* Ofcar, the fon of Oman, had long refolved on the expedition into Ireland, again ft Cair'uar, who had aflaffi- nated his friend Cathol, the fon of Moran, an Irlfhman of noble extraction, and in the intercft of the family of Cprmac.
Nathos
A POEM. 329
Nathos is returned ! Thou, O aged Ufnoth ! fhalt not hear that thy fon has fled. I re- member thy words on Etha ; when my fails began to rife : when I fpread them towards Erin, towards the moffy walls of Tura ! <c Thou goeft," he laid, " O Nathos, to the king of fhields ! Thou goeft to Cuthullin, chief of men, who never fled from danger. Let not thine arm be feeble : neither be thy thoughts of flight ; left the fon of Semo mould fay, that Etna's race are weak. His words may come to Ufnoth, and fadden his foul in the hall." The tear was on my father's cheek. He gave this mining fword !
" I came to Tura's bay : but the halls of Tura were filent. I looked around, and there was none to tell of the fon of generous Semo. I went to the hall of fhells, where the arms of his fathers hung. But the arms were gone, and aged Lamhor * fat in tears. " Whence are the arms of fteel ?" faid the rifing Lamhor. 44 The light of the fpear has long been abfent from Tura's dufky walls. Come ye from the rolling fea i or from Temora'sf mournful halls ?"
" We come from the fea," I faid, " from Ufnoth's rifing towers. We are the fons of
* Lamh-mhor, mighty hand,
f Temora was the refidence of the fupreme kings of Ireland. It is here called mournful, on account of the death of Cormac, who was murdered there by Cairbar, who ufurped his throne.
Slis-
r.p D A R - T H U L A :
Slis-fama *, the daughter of car-borne Semo, Where is Tura's chief, foil of the iilent hall ? But why fhould Nathos afk ? for I behold thy tears. . How did the mighty fall, fon of the lonely Tura ?" " He fell not," Lamhor re- plied, " like the filent ftar of night, when it flies through darknefs and is no more. But he was like a meteor that moots into a diftant land. Death attends its dreary courfe. Itfelf is the fign of wars. Mournful are the banks of Lego ; and the roar of dreamy Lara ! There the hero fell, fon of the noble Ufnoth !" " The hero fell in the midft of flaughter," I faid with a burfting figh. " His hand was ftrong in war. Death dimly fat behind his fword."
We came to Lego's founding banks. We found his rifing tomb. His friends in battle are there : his bards of many fongs. Three days we mourned over the hero : on the fourth, I (truck the fliield of Caithbat. The heroes gathered around with joy, and fhook their beamy fpears. Corlath was near with his hoft, the friend of car-borne Cairbar. We came like a ftream by night. His heroes fell before us. When the people of the valley rofe, they faw their blood with morning's light. But we roiled away, like wreaths of mift, to Cormac's echoing hall. Our f words role to defend the king. But Temora's halls
* Slis-feamiia,yj// bofom. She was the wife of Ufnoth, and daughter of Semo the chief of the ijle of m'ij}.
were
A P O E M. 331
were empty. Cormac had fallen in his youth. The king of Erin was no more!
Sadnefs feized the fons of Erin. They ilowly, gloomily retired : like clouds that, long having threatened rain, vanifh behind the hills. The fons of Ufnoth moved, in their grief, towards Tura's founding bay. We palled by Selama. Cairbar retired like Lano's mift, when driven before the winds. It was then I beheld thee, O Dar-thula ! like the light of Etna's fun. " Lovely is that beam!" I faid* The crowded ligh of my bofom rofe. " Thou earned in thy beauty, Dar-thula, to Etha's mournful chief. But the winds have deceived us, daughter of Colla, and the foe is near !"
" Yes, the foe is near," faid the ruihing flrength of Althos *. " 1 heard their clanging arms on the coaft. I faw the dark wreaths of Erin's ftandard. Diftindt is the voice of Caif- barf, loud as Cromla's falling ftream. He had feen the dark fhip on the fea, before the dufky night came down. His people wratch on Lena's plain. They lift ten thoufand fwords." " And let them lift ten thoufand
* Althos had juft returned from viewing the coaft of Lena, whither he had been fent by Nathos, the beginning of the night.
f Cairbar had gathered an army to the coaft of Ullter, in order to oppofe Fingal, who prepared for an expedition into Ireland to re eftablifh the houfe of Cor- mac on the thrcne, which Cairbar had ufurped. Between tht wings of Cairbar's army was the bay of Tura, into which the lhip of the fons of Ufnoth was driven : fo that there was no pofhbility of their efcaping.
fwords,"
332 DAR-THULA:
fwords," faid Nathos with a fmile. " The fons of car-borne Ufnoth will never trem- ble in danger ! Why doft thou roll with all thy foam, thou roaring fea of Erin ? Why do ye ruftle, on your dark wings, ye whittling florins of the fky? Do ye think, ye ftorms, that ye keep Nathos on the coaft ? No : his foul detains him, children of the night ! Al- thos ! bring my father's arms : thou feed them beaming to the ftars. Bring the fpear of Semo*. It ftands on the dark-bofomed fhip !"
He brought the arms. Nathos covered his limbs, in all their fhining {reel. The ttride of the chief is lovely. The joy of his eyes was terrible. He looks towards the coming of Cairbar. The wind is milling in his hair. Dar-thula is filtni at his fide. Her look is fixed on the chief. She ftrives to hide the riling figh. Two tears fwell in her radiant eyes i
•* Althcs !" faid the chief of Etha, " I fee a cave in that rock. Place Dar-thula there. Let thy arm, my brother, be ftrong. Ardan ! we meet the foe ; call to battle gloomy Cairbar. O that he came in his founding fteel; to meet the fon of Ufnoth ! Dar- thula ! if thou flialt efcape, look not on the fallen Nathos ! Lift thy fails, O Althos ! towards the echoing groves of my land.
* Semo was grandfather to Nathos by the mother's fide. The fpear mentioned here was given to Ufnoth on his marriage, it being the cuftom then for the father of the lady to give his arms to his fon-in-law.
" Tell
A POEM. 373
" Tell the chief- that his fon fell with fame ; that my fword did not fliun the fight. Tell him I fell in the midft of thoufands. Let the joy of his grief be great. Daughter of Colla ! call the maids to Etna's echoing hall ! Let their fongs arife from Nathos, when fha- dowy autumn returns. O that the voice of Cona, that Ollian, might be heard in my praife ! then would my fpirit rejoice in the midft of the milling winds." cC And my voice fhall praife thee, Nathos, chief of the woody Etha ! The voice of Offian fhall rife in thy praife, fon of the generous Uihoth ! Why was I not on Lena, when the battle rofe ? Then would the fword of Offian defend thee ; or himfelf fall lew l."
We fat, that night, in Selma round the ftrength of the fhell. The wind was abroad, in the oaks. The fpirit of the mountain "f roared. The blaft came ruftling through the hall, and gently touched my harp. The found was mournful and low, like the fong of the tomb. Fingal heard it the firft. The crowded fighs of his bofom rofe. " Some of my he- roes are low," faid the grey-haired king of Morven. " I hear the found of death on the harp. Oflian, touch the trembling firing, Bid the forrow rife ; that their fpirits may fly with joy to Morven's woody hills'!" I touched
* Ufnoth.
f By the fpirit of the mountain is meant that deep and melancholy found which precedes a ftorm ; well known to thofe who live in a high country.
the
334 DAR-THULAt
the harp before the king; the found was mournful and low. " Bend forward from your clouds," I faid, " ghofts of my fathers ! bend. Lay by the red terror of your courfe. Receive the falling chief; whether he comes from a diftant land, or rifes from the rolling fea. Let his robe of mift be near ; his fpear that is formed of a cloud. Place an half-ex- tinguifhed meteor by his fide, in the form of the hero's fword. And, oh ! let his counte- nance be lovely, that his friends may delight in his prefence. Bend from your clouds," I faid, " ghofts of my fathers ! bend 1"
Such was my fong, in Selma, to the lightly trembling harp. But Nathos was on Erin's fhore, furrounded by the night. He heard the voice of the foe, amidft the roar of tumbling waves. Silent he heard their voice, and refted on his fpear ! Morning rofe, with its beams. The fons of Erin appear, like grey rocks, with all their trees, they fpread along the coaft. Cairbar ftood in the midft. He grimly fmiled when he faw the foe. Nathos rufhed forward, in his ftrength : nor could Dar-thula ftay be- hind. She came with the hero, lifting her mining fpear. " And who are thele, in their armour, in the pride of youth'? Who but the fons of Umoth, Aithos and dark-haired Arden ?"
" Come," faid Nathos, " come ! chief of high Temora ! Let our battle be on the coaft, for the whit e-bofo in ed maid. His people are not with Nathos ; they are behind thele rolling
feas*
A P O E M. 535
feas. Why doft thou bring thy thoufands againft the chief of Etha ? Thou didft fly * from him in battle, when his friends were around his fpear." " Youth of the heart of pride, fhall Erin's king fight with thee? Thy fathers were not among the renowned, nor of the kings of men. Are the arms of foes in their halls ? or the fhields of other times ? Cairbar is renowned in Temora, nor does he fight with feeble men !"
The tear flarted from car-borne Nathos. He turned his eyes to his brothers. Their fpears flew at once. Three heroes lay on earth. Then the light of their fwords gleamed on high. The ranks of Erin yield ; as a ridge of dark clouds before a blafi of wind ! Then Cairbar ordered his people, and they drew a thoufand bows. A thoufand arrows flew. The fons of Ufnoth fell in blocd. They fell like three young oaks, which flood alone on the hill : the traveller faw the lovely trees, and won- dered how they grew fo lonely : the blaft of the defert came by night, and laid their green heads low ; next day he returned, but they were withered, and the heath was bare !
Dar-thula flood in fiient grief, and beheld their fa}I ! No tear is in her eye. But her look is wildly fad. Pale wras her cheek. Her trembling lips broke fhort an half-formed word. Her dark hair flew on wind. The gloomy Cairbar came. " Where is thy lover now ?
* Hfc alludes to the flight of Cairbar from Selarna.
the
33$ DAR-THULA.
the car-borne chief of Etha ? Haft thou be- held the halls of Ufnoth ? or the dark-brown hills of Fingal ? My battle would have roared on Morven, had not the winds met Dar- thula. Fingal himfelf would have been low, and forrow dwelling in Selma !" Her fhield fell from Dar-thula's arm. Her bread of fnow appeared. It appeared ; but it was ftained with blood. An arrow was fixed in her fide. She fell on the fallen Nathos, like a wreath of fnow ! Her hair fpreads wide on his face Their blood is mixing round 1
" Daughter of Colla! thou art low !" faid Cairbar's hundred bards. " Silence is at the blue ftreams of Selama. Truthil's* race have failed. When wilt thou rife in thy beauty, firfl of Erin's maids ? Thy fleep is long in the tomb. The morning diftant far. The fun fhall not come to thy bed and fay, " Awake, Dar-thula ! awake, thou firft of women ! the wind of fpring is abroad. The flowers make their heads en the green hills. The woods wave their growing leaves. Retire, O fun ! the daughter of Colla is afleep. She will not come forth in her beauty. She will not move in the fteps of her lovelinefs!"
Such was the fong of the bards, when they railed the tomb. I fung over the grave, when the king of Morven came ; when he came to green Erin to fight with car-borne Cairbar !
* Truthil was the founder of Dar-thula's family. 5
THE
DEATH of CUTHULLIN:
POEM.
VOL. I.
A R G U MEN T.
Cuthullin, after the arms of Fingal had expelled Swaran from Ireland, continued to manage the affairs of that kingdom as the guardian of Cormac, the young king. In the third year of Cuthullin's administration, Torlath, the fen of Cantela, rebelled in Connaught ; and ad- vanced to Temora to dethrone Cormac. Cuthullin marched againft him, came up with him at the lake of Lego, and totally defeated his forces. Torlath fell in battle by Cuthullin's hand •, but as he too eagerly preffed on the enemy, he was mortally wounded. The affairs of Cormac, though, for fome time, fupported by Na- thos, as mentioned in the preceding poem, fell into confufion at the death of Cuthullin. Cormac himfelf was flain by the rebel Cairbar; and the re-eftablim- % ment of the royal family of Ireland by Fingal, fur- nifties the iubjeft of the epic poem of Temcra.
C 339 3
THE
DEATH of CUTHULLIN
A
POEM.
w TS the wind on the fhield of Fingal ? Or is -*• the voice of paft times in my hall ? Sing on, fweet voice I for thou art pleafant. Thou carrieft away my night with joy. Sing on, O Bragela, daughter of car-borne Sorglan !
" It is the white wave of the rock, and not Cuthullin's fails. Often do the mills deceive me for the fhip of my love ! when they rife round fome ghofl, and fpread their grey fkirts on the wind. Why doll thou delay thy com- ing, *fon of the generous Semo ? Four times has autumn returned with its winds, and raifed the feas of Togorma*, fince thou haft been in
* Togorma, i. e. the ijland of blue leaves, one of the Hebrides, was fubje£t to Connai, the fon of Caithbat, Cuthullin's friend. He is fometimes called the fon of Colgar, from one of that name who was the founder of the family. Connai, a few days before the news of Tor- lath's revolt, came to Temora, had failed to Togorma, his native ifle ; where he was detained by contrary winds during the war in which Cuthullin was killed.
z % the.
340 The DEATH of CTJTHULLIN:
the roar of battles, and Bragela diitant far ! Hills of the ifle of mid ! when will ye anfwer to his hounds ? Bnt ye are dark in your clouds. Sad Bragela calls in vain ! Night comes rolling down. The face of ocean fails. The heath-cock's head is beneath his wing. The hind fleeps, with the hart of the defert. They (hall rife with morning's light, and feed by the mo fly flream. But my tears return with the fun. My fighs come on with the night, When wilt thou come in thine arms, O chief of Erin's wars ?"
Pleafant is thy voice in Offian's ear, daugh- ter of car-borne Sorglan ! But retire to the hall of fhells ; to the beam of the burning oak. Attend ta the murmur of the fea : it rolls at Dunfcai's walls : let fleep defcend on thy blue eyes. Let the hero arife in thy dreams !
Cuthullin fits at Lego's lake, at the dark rolling of waters. Night is around the hero, His thoufancls fpread on the heath. A hun- dred oaks burn in the midft. The feaft of fheljs is fmoaking wide. Carril flrikes the harp beneath a tree. His grey locks glitter in the beam. The milling blaft of night is near, and lifts his aged hair. His fong is of thie blue Togorma, and of its chief, Cuthullin's friend! " Why art thou abfent, Conual, in the day of the gloomy ftorm ? The chiefs of the fouth have convened, againft the car-borne Cormac. The winds detain thy fails. Thy blue waters roll around thee. But Cormac is not alone. The fon of Semo fights his wars! jt Semo's
A P O E M. 341
Semo's fon his battles fights ! the terror of the ftranger ! He that is like the vapour of death, flowly borne by fultry winds. The fun red- dens in its preience : the people fall around."
Such was the fong of Carril, when a fon of the foe appeared. He threw down his point- lefs fpear. He fpoke the words of Torlath ! Torlath, chief of heroes, from Lego's fable furge ! He that led his thoufands to battle, againft car- borne Cormac. Cormac who was diftant far. in Temora's* echoing halls: he learned to bend the bow of his fathers ; and to lift the fpear. Nor long did ft thou lift the fpear, mildlv-mining beam of youth ! death viands dim behind thee, like the darkened half of the moon behind its growing light ! Cuth- ullin role before the bard f, that came from generous Torlath. He offered him the fhell of joy. He honoured the fon of fongs. " Sweet voice of Lego!*' he faid, " what are the words of Torlath ? Comes he to our feaft or battle, the car-borne fon of CantelaJ?"
ec He comes to thy battle," replied the bard, " to the founding ftrife of fpears. When
* The royal palace of the Irifh kings ; Team-hrath, according to fome of the bards.
-j- The bards were the heralds of ancient times ; and their perfons were facred on account of their office. In later times they abuied that privilege j and as their per- fons were inviolable, they falirized and lampooned fo freely thofe who were not liked by their patrons, that they became a public nuifance. Screened under the character of heralds, they grofsly abufed the enemy when he would not accept the terms they offered.
% Cean-teola', head of a family.
z 3 morning
342 The DEATH of CUTHULLIN:
morning is grey on Lego, Torlath will fight on the plain. Wilt thou meet him, in thine arms, king of the ifle of mift? Terrible is the fpear of Torlath ! it is a meteor of night. He lifts it, and the people fall ! death fits in the lightning of his fword !" " Do I fear," replied Cuthullin, " the fpear of car-borne Torlath ? He is brave as a thoufand heroes : but my foul delights in war ! The fword refts not by the fide of Cuthullin, bard of the times of old ! Morning fhall meet me on the plain, and gleam on the blue arms of Semo's fon. But fit thou on the heath, O bard ! and let us hear thy voice. Partake of the joyful fhell : and hear the fongs of Temora !"
" This is no time," replied the bard, " to hear the fong of joy : when the mighty are to meet in battle, like the ftrength of the waves of Lego. Why art thou fo dark, Slimora* ! with all thy filent woods ? No ftar tretpbles on thy top. No moon-beam on thy fide. But the meteors of death are there : the grey watry forms of ghofts. Why art thou dark, Slimora ! with thy filent woods?" He retired, in the found of his fong. Carril joined his voice. The mufic was like the memory of joys that are pair, pleafant and mournful to the foul. The ghofls of departed bards heard on Slimora's fide. Soft founds fpread along the wood. The filent valleys of night rejoice. So, when
* Slia'mor, great hill,
he
A POEM. 343;
he fits in the filence of the day, in the valley of his breeze, the humming of the mountain bee comes to Oflian's ear : the gale drowns it in its courfe ; but the pleafant found returns again ! Slant looks the fun on the field ! gra- dual grows the fhade of the hill !
" Raife," faid Cuthullin, to his hundred bards, " the fong of the noble Fingal : that fong which he hears at night, when the dreams of his reft defcend : when the bards ftrike the diftant harp, and the faint light gleams on SeU ma's walls. Or let the grief of Lara rife : the fighs of the mother of Galmar *, when he was lought, in vain, on his hills ; when fhe beheld his bow in the hall. Carril, place the fhield of Caithbat on that branch. Let the fpear of Cuthullin be near ; that the found of my battle may rife, with the grey beam of the eaft." The hero leaned on his father's fhield; the fong of Lara rofe ! The hundred bards were diftant far : Carril alone is near the chief. The words of the fong were his :. the found of his harp was mournful.
" Alcletha f with the aged locks ! mother, of car-borne Calmar! why doft thou look
* Calrtwr, the Ton of Matha, His death is related at large in the third book of Fingal. He was the only fc^n of Matha ; and the family was extinct in him. The feat of the family was on the banks of the river Lara, in. the neighbourhood of Lego, and probably near the place where Cuthullin lay ; which circumftance fuggefled to him, the lamentation of Alcletha over her ion.
f Ald-cla'tha, decaying beauty : probably a poetical name given the mother of Calmar, by the bard himfelf, i
z 4 toward
J44 The DEATH of CUTHULLIN;
toward the defert, to behold the return of thy fon? Thefe are not his heroes, dark on the heath : nor is that the voice of Calmar. It is but the diftant grove, Alcle'tha ! but the roar of the mountain-wind!" "Who* bounds over Lara's ftream, fitter of the noble Calmar ? Does JiOt Alcle'tha behold his fpear ? But her eyes are dim ! Is it not the ion of Matha, daughter of my lpve ?"
" It is but an aged oak, Alcle'tha I" replied the lovely weeping Alona f . " It is but an oak, Alcletha, bent over Lara's ftream. But who comes along the plain ? forrow is in his fpeed. He lifts high the fpear of Calmar. Alcletha, it is covered with blood !" u But it is covered with the blood of foes J, fitter of car- borne Calmar ! His fpear never returned unfiained with blood : nor his bow from the ftrife of the mighty. The battle is ccnfumed in his prefence : he is a flame of death, Alona ! Youth § of the mournful fpeed i where is the fon of Alcletha ? Does he return with his fame, in the midft of his echoing fhields ? Thou art dark and filent ! Calmar is then no more 1 Tell me not, warrior, how he fell. I
* Alcletha fpeaks. Calmar had promifed to return by a certain day, ami ibis mother and his hiier Alona are re- jreftnted as looking, with impatience, towards that quar- ter where tlity expedited Caimar Ihould make his hrft Appearance.
f Aluine, exquifiiely beautiful*
i; Alcletha fpeaks.
j She addrefies herfelf to Larnh-, Caimar's friend, who hzd returned with the nzwz of hie death,
muft
A P O E M. 345
mud not hear of his wound ['' Why doft thou look towards the defert, mother of low-laid Calmar?
Such was the fong of Carril, when Cuthul- lin lay on his ihield. The hards refted on their harps. Sleep fell foftly around. The fon of Semo was awake alone. His foul was fixed on war. The burning oaks began to decay. Faint red light is fpread around. A feeble voice is heard ! The ghoft of Calmar came ! He ftalked dimly along the beam. Dark is the wound in his fide. His hair is difordered and loofe. Joy fits pale on his face. He Teems to invite Cuthullin to his cave.
" Son of the cloudy night !" faid the rifing chief of Erin. " Why doft thou bend thy dark eyes on me, ghoft of the noble Calmar? Wouldeft thou frighten me, O Matha's fon ! from the battles of Cormac ? Thy hand was not feeble in war : neither was thy voice for peace. Flow art thou changed, chief of Lara ! if thou now doft advife to fly ! But, Calmar, I never fled. I never feared the ghofts of night. Small is their knowledge, weak their hands ; their dwelling is in the wind. But my foul grows in danger, and rejoices in the noife of fteel. Retire thou to thy cave. Thou art not Calmar's ghoft. He delighted in battle. His arui was like the thunder of heaven I" He retired in his blaft with joy, for he had heard the voice of his praife.
The faint beam of the morning rofe. The found of Caithbat's buckler fpread. Green
Erin's
346 The DEATH of CUTHULLIN:
Erin's warriors convened, like the roar of many dreams. The horn of war is heard over Lego. The mighty Torlath came ! €< Why dofl thou come with thy thoufands, Cuthullin?" faid the chief of Leffo. " I know
o
the ftrength of thy arm. Thy foul is an un- extinguished fire. Why fight we not on the plain, and let our hofts behold our deeds ? Let them behold us like roaring waves, that tumble round a rock : the manners haften away, and look on their ftrife with fear."
" Thou rifeft, like the fun, on my foul," replied the fon of Semo. " Thine arm is mighty, O Torlath ! and worthy of my wrath. Retire, ye men of Ullin, to Slimora's fhady fide. Behold the chief of Erin, in the day of his fame. Carril ! tell to mighty Gonnal, if Cuthullin muft fall, tell him I accufed the winds, which roar on Togorma's waves. Never was he abfent in battle, when the ftrife of my fame arofe. Let his fword be before Cor- mac, like the beam of heaven. Let his counfel found in Temora, in the day of danger !"
He rufhed, in the found of his arms, like the terrible fpirit of Loda *, when he comes, in the roar of a thoufand ftorms, and fcatters battles from his eyes. He fits on a cloud over Lochlin's feas. His mighty hand is on his fword. Winds lift his flaming locks ! The
* Loda, in the third book of Finga!, is mentioned as a place of worfhip in Scandinavia : by the fpirit of Loda, the poet probably means Odin, the great deity of the northern nations. He is defcribed here with all his terrors.
waning
A P O E M. 347
waning moon half-lights his dreadful face. His features blended in darknefs arife to view. So terrible was Cuthullin in the day of his fame. Torlath fell by his hand. Lego's he- roes mourned. They gather around the chief, like the clouds of the defert. A thoufand fwords rofe at once ; a thoufand arrows flew ; but he flood like a rock in the midft of a roar- ing fea. They fell around. He ftrode in blood. Dark Slimora echoed wide. The fons of Ullin came. The battle fpread over Lego. The chief of Erin overcame. He returned over the field with his fame. But pale he returned ! The joy of his face was dark. He rolled his eyes in filence. The fword hung, unfheathed, in his hand. His fpear bent at every ftep !
" Carril," faid the chief in fecret, " the ftrength of Cuthullin fails. My days are with the years that are paft. No morning of mine fhall arife. They mall feek me at Temora, but I ffiall not be found. Gormac will weep in his hall, and fay, " Where is Erin's chief?" But my name is renowned ! my fame in the long of bards. The youth will fay in fecret, O let me die as Cuthullin died! Renown clothed him like a robe. The light of his fame is great. Draw the arrow from my fide. Lay Cuthullin beneath that oak. Place the fliield of Caithbat near, that they may behold me amidft the arms of my fathers!''
" And is the fon of Semo fallen ?" faid Carril with a figh. " Mournful are Tura's
7 walls.
348 The DEATH of CUTHULLIN:
walls. Sorrow dwells at Dunfcai. Thy fpoufe is left alone in. her youth. The fon* of thy love is alone ! He mail come to Bragela, and afk her why fhe weeps ? He fhall lift his eyes to the wall, and fee his father's fword. " Whofe fword is that ?" he will fay. The foul of his mother is fad. Who is that, like the hart of the defert, in the murmur of his courfe ? His eyes look wildly round in fearch of his friend. Connal, fon of Colgar, where haft thou been, when the mighty fell r Did the feas of Co- gorma roll around thee ? Was the wind of the fouth in thy fails ? The mighty have fallen in battle, arid thou waft not there. Let none tell it in Selma, nor in Morven's woody land. Fingal will be fad, and the fons of the defert mourn !"
By the dark rolling waves of Lego they raifed the hero's tomb. Luath f, at a diftance, lies. The fong of bards rofe over the dead.
" Bleft J be thy foul, fon of Semo ! Thou
* Conloch, who was afterwards very famous for his great exploits in Ireland. He was fo remarkable for his dexterity in handling the javelin, that when a goodmarkf- man is defcribed, it has pafled into a proverb, in the north of Scotland, He is unerring as the arm of Conloch.
f It was of old, the cuftom to bury the favourite dog near the mailer. This was not peculiar to the ancient Scots, for we find it practifed by many other nations in their ages of heroifm. There is a {tone {hewn ftill at Dun- fc'ai in the ifle of Sky, to which Cuthuliin commonly bound his dog Luath. The (tone goes by his name to this day.
X This is the fong of the bards over Cuthullin's tomb. Every ilanza clofes with fome remarkable title of the hero, which was always the cuftom in funeral elegies.
wert
POEM.
349
wert mighty in batde. Thy ftrength was like the ftrength of a ftream ! thy fpeed like the eagle's wing. Thy path in battle was terrible : the fteps of death were behind thy fword. Bleft be thy foul, fon of Semo, car-borne chief of Dunfcai ! Thou haft not fallen by the fword of the mighty, neither was thy blood on the fpear of the brave. The arrow came, like the fting of death in a blaft : nor did the feeble hand, which drew the bow, perceive it. Peace to thy foul, in thy cave, chief of the iile of mift !"
" The mighty are difperfed at Temora : there is none in Cormac's hall. The king mourns in his youth. He does not behold thy return. The found of thy fhield is ceafed : his foes are gathering round. Soft be thy reft in thy cave, chief of Erin's wars ! Brage'la will not hope for thy return, or fee thy fails irx ocean's foam. Her fteps are not on the more : nor her ear open to the voice of thy rowers. She fits in the hall of fhells. She fees the arms of him that is no more. Thine eyes are full of tears, daughter of car-borne Sorglan ! Bleft be thy foul in death, O chief of ihady Tura \"
THE
BATTLE of LOR A
A
POEM,
ARGUMENT.
Fingal, on his return from Ireland, after he had expelled Swaran from that kingdom, made a feaft to all his he- roes ; he forgot to invite Ma-ronnan and Aldo, two chiefs, who had not been along with him in his expe- dition. They refented his neglect ; and went over to Erragon king of Sora, a country of Scandinavia, the declared enemy of Fingal. The valour of Aldo foon gained him a great reputation in Sora : and Lorma the beautiful wife of Erragon fell in love with him. He found means to efcape with her and come to Fingal, who redded then in Selma on the weftern coaft. Erra- gon invaded Scotland, and was (lain in battle by Gaul the fon of Morni, after he had rejected terms of peace offered him by Fingal. In this war Aldo fell, in a fmgle combat, by the hands of his rival Erragon, and the unfortunate Lorma afterwards died of grief;
t 353 J
THE
BATTLE of LORA
POEM.
on of the diftant land, who dwelled in the fecret cell ! do I hear the found of thy grove ? or is it thy voice of fongs ? The tor- rent was loud in my ear; but I heard a tune- ful voice. Doll thou praife the chiefs of thy land : or the fpirits * of the wind ? But, lonely dweller of rocks ! look thou on that heathy plain. Thou feed green tombs, with their rank, whittling grafs : with their flones of moffy heads. Thou feeft them, fon of the rock, but Offian's eyes have failed.
A mountain- fire a in comes roaring down, and fends its waters round a green hill. Four moify flones, in rhe midfl of withered grafs, rear their heads on the top. Two trees, which the ftorms have bent, fpread their whittling branches around. This is thy dwelling, Er- ragon f ; this thy narrow houfe : the found
* Alluding to the religious hymns of the Culdees.
f Erragon, or Ferg-thonn, fignifies the rage of the waves ; probably a poetical name given him by OiTian himfelf ; for he goes by the name of Annir in tradition. VOL. I. A A ©f
354 The BATTLE of LORAr
of thy (hells have been long forgot in Sorz, Thy fhield is become dark in thy hall. Erra- gon, king of mips ! chief of diftant Sora r how haft thou fallen on our mountains? How is the mighty low ? Son of the fecret eel ! doll thou delight in fongs ? Hear the battle of .Lora. The found of its fteel is long fince paft. bo thunder on the darkened hill roars and is no more. The fun returns with his filent beams. The glittering rocks, and green heads of the mountains fmile.
The bay of Cona received our fhips * from Erin's rolling waves. Our white fheets hung ioole to the mafts. The boifterous winds roared behind the groves of Morven. The horn of the king is founded ; the deer ftart from their rocks. Our arrows flew in the woods. The feaft of the hill is fpread. Our joy was great on our rocks, for the fall of the terrible Swaran. Two heroes were forgot at our feaft. The rage of their bofoms burned. They rolled their red eyes in fecret. The ilgh burfts from their breafts. They were feen to talk together, and to throw their fpears on earth. They were two dark clouds in the rnidft of our joy ; like pillars of mift on the fettled lea. They glitter to the fun, but the mariners fear a ftorm.
" Raife my white fails," faid Ma-ronnan, u raife them to the winds of the weft. Let us rufh, O Aldo ! through the foam of the
7 Tliis Was at Fingal's return from his war againft Swaratti
northern
A POEM. 355
northern wave. We are forgot at the feaft ; but our arms have been red in blood. Let u< leave the hills of Fingal, and ferve the king of Sora. His countenance is fierce. War darkens around his fpear. Let us be renowned, O Aldo, in the battles of other lands !"
They took their fivords, their fhields of thongs. Th-ey ruined to Lu mar's refounding bay. They came to Sora's haughty king, the chief of bounding fteeds. Erragon had re- turned from the chafe. His fpear was red in blood. He bent his dark face to the ground; and whittled as he went. He took the ftrangers to his featts: they fought and conquered in his wars,
Aldo returned with his feme towards Sora's lofty walls. From her tower looked the fpoufe of Erragon, the humid, rolling eyes of Lorma. Her yellow hair flies on the wind of ocean. Her white breaft heaves, like mow on heath ; when the gentle winds arife, and flowly move it in the light. She faw young Aldo, like the beam of Sora's fetting fun. Her foft heart iighed. Tears filled her eyes. Her white arm fupported her head. Three days fhe fat within the hall, and covered her grief with joy. On the fourth me fled with the hero, along the troubled fea. They came to Cona's mofly towers, to Fingal king of ipears.
" Aldo of the heart of pride !" laid Hogal
rifing in wrath : " fhall 1 defend thee from
A a 2 the
356 The BATTLE of LOR A:
the rage of Sora's injured king ? who will now receive my people into their halls ? Who will give the feaft of flrangers, fince Aldo, of the little foul, has dishonoured my name in Sora ? Go to thy hills, thou feeble hand ! Go : hide thee in thy caves. Mournful is the battle we muft fight, with Sora's gloomy king. Spirit of the noble Trenmor ! When will Fingal ceafe to fight ? I was born in the midft of bat- tles *, and my fteps muft move in blood to the tomb. But my hand did not injure the weak, my fteel did not touch the feeble in arms. I behold thy tempefts, O Morven ! which will overturn my halls ! when my children are dead in battle, and none remains to dwell in Selma. Then will the feeble come, but they will not know my tomb. My renown is only . in fong. My deeds fhall be as a dream to fu- ture times !"
His people gathered around Erragon, as the ftorms round the ghofts of night ; when he calls them from the top of Morven, and prepares to pour them on the land of the flranger. He came to the more of Cona. He fent his bard to the king ; to demand the combat of thcufands ; or the land of many hills 1 Fingal fat in his hall with the friends of
* Comhal the father of Fingal was flain in battle, againft the tribe of Morni, the very day that Fingal was born •, fo that he may, with propriety, be faid to have been born in the mid/} of battles,
his
A P O E M. 357
his youth around him. The young heroes were at the chafe, far diftant in the defert. The grey-haired chiefs talked of other times ; of the actions of their youth ; when the aged Nartmor* came, the chief of ftreamy Lora.
" This is no time," faid Nartmor, " to hear the fongs of other years : Erragon frowns on the coaft, and lifts ten thoufand fwords. Gloomy is the king among his chiefs ! he is Jike the darkened moon amidft the meteors of night ; when they fail along her fkirts, and give the light that has failed o'er her orb." " Come," faid Fingal, " from thy hall, come, daughter of my love : come from thy hall, Bofmina f, maid of ftreamy Morven ! Nart- mor, take the fteeds of the ftrangers. Attend the daughter of Fingal ! Let her bid the king of Sora to our feaft, to Selma's fhaded wall. Offer him, O Bofmina ! the peace of heroes, and the wealth of generous Aldo. Our youths are far diftant. Age is on our trembling hands 1"
She came to the hoft of Erragon, like a beam of light to a cloud. In her right hand was feen a fparkling ihdL In her left an ar- row of gold. The firft, the joyful mark of peace ! The latter, the fign of war. Erra- gon brightened in her preience as a rock, be- fore the fudden beams of the fun ; when they
* Neart-mor, great Jlrength. Lora, noify .
f Bof-mhina,y^// and tender hand. She was the youngeft of Fingal's children.
ifliie
358 The BATTLE of LORA:
iffue from a broken cloud, divided by the roar- ing wind !
" Son of the diftant Sora," began the mildly blufhing maid, •* come to the feaft of Morven's king, to Selma's fhaded walls. Take the peace of heroes, O warrior ! Let the dark iword reft by thy fide. Chufeft thou the wealth of kings ? Then hear the words of generous Aldo. He gives to Erragon an hun- dred fteeds, the children of the rein : an hun- dred maids from diftant lands ; an hundred hawks with fluttering wing, that fly acrofs the iky. An hundred* girdles fhall alio be thine, to bind high-bofomed maids. The friends of the births of heroes. The cure of the ions of toil. Ten (hells ftudded with gems (hall (hine in Sora's towers : the bright water trembles on their ftars, and feems to be fparkling wine. They gladdened once the kings of the world f, in the midft of their echoing halls. Thefe, O hero ! (hall be thine ; or thy white-bofomed ipoufe. Lorma (hall roll her bright eyes ill thy halls ; though Fingal loves the generous Aldo : Fingal, who never injured an hero, though his arm is ftrong !"
* Sanctified girdles, till very lately, were kept in many families in the north of Scotland ; they were bound about women in labour, and were fuppofed to alleviate their pains, and to accelerate the birth. They were imprefled with feveral myftical figures, and the ceremony of bind- ing them about the woman's waift, was accompanied with words and geftures which (hewed the cuilom. to have come originally from the Druids.
* The Roman emperors.
« Soft
A POEM. 359
" Soft voice of Cona I" replied the king, " tell him, he fpreads his feaft in vain. Let Fingai pour his fpoils around me. Let him bend beneath my power. Let him give me the {words of his fathers : the fhields of other times : that my children may behold them in my halls, and fay, " Thefe are the arms of Fingai." " Never mail they behold them in thy halls !" faid the riling pride of the maid. " They are in the hands of heroes, who never yielded in war. King of echoing Sora ! the ftorm is gathering on our hills. Doft thou not forefee the fall of thy people, fon of the diftant land r
She came to Selma's filent halls. The king beheld her down-caft eyes. He rofe from his place, in his ftrength. He fhook his aged locks. He took the founding mail of Tren- mor. The dark-brown fhield of his fathers. Darknefs filled Selma's hall, when he ftretched his hand to his fpear : the ghofts of thoufands were near, and forefaw the death of the peo- ple. Terrible joy rofe in the face of the aged heroes. They rufhed to meet the foe. Their thoughts are on the deeds of other years : and on the fame that rifes from death !
Now at Trathal's ancient tomb the dogs of the chafe appeared. Fingai knew that his young heroes followed. Fie (topped in the mid ft of his courfe. Ofcar appeared the firft ; then Morni's fon, and Nemi's race. Fercuth *
* Fear-cuth, the hme with Fergus, the man of the ivordt or a corrupander 05" an array.
•7 fhewed
36o The BATTLE of LORA:
fhewed his gloomy form. Dermid fpread his dark hair on wind. Offian came the laft. I hummed the fong of other times. My fpear fupported my fteps over the little ftreams. My thoughts were of mighty men. Fingal ftruck his boffy fhield ; and gave the difmal fign of war. A thoufand fvvords at once un- iheathed, gleam on the waving heath. Three grey-haired fons of fong raife the tuneful mournful voice. Deep and dark with found- ing fteps, we rufh, a gloomy ridge, along : like the mower of a ftorm, when it pours on a narrow vale.
The king of Morven fat on his hill. The fun-beam of battle flew on the wind. The friends of his youth are near, with all their waving locks of age. Joy rofe in the hero's eyes when he beheld his fons in war : when he faw us amidft the lightning of fwords, mind- ful of the deeds of our fathers. Erragon came on, in his ftrength, like the roar of a winter dream. The battle falls around his fteps : death dimly flalks along by his fide !
" Who comes," laid Fingal, " like the bounding roe ! like the hart of echoing Cona ? His fhield glitters on his fide. The clang of his armour is mournful. He meets with Er- ragon in the ftrife ! Behold the battle of the chiefs ! It is like the contending of ghofts in a gloomy ftorm. But falleft thou, fon of the hill, and is thy white bofom flamed with blood ? Weep, unhappy Lor ma, Aldo is no more!" The king toQk the fpear of his
ftrength.
A POEM. 361
ftrength. He was fad for the fall of Aldo. He bent his deathful eyes on the foe : but Gaul met the king of Sora. Who can relate the fight of the chiefs ? The mighty ftranger fell !
" Sons of Cona !" Fingal cried aloud, " flop the hand of death. Mighty was he that is low. Much is he mourned in Sora ! The ftranger will come towards his hall, and wonder why it is fo filent. The king is fallen, O ftranger. The joy of his houfe is ceafed. Liften to the found of his woods. Perhaps his ghoft is murmuring there ! But he is far diftant, on Morven, beneath the fword of a foreign foe." Such were the words of Fingal, when the bard raifed the fong of peace. We flopped our uplifted fwords. We fpared the feeble foe. We laid Erragon in a tomb. I raifed the voice of grief. The clouds of night came rolling down. The ghoft of Erragon appeared to fome. His face was cloudy and dark ; an half-formed figh is in his breaft. " Bleft be thy foul, O king of Sora ! thine arm was terrible in war !"
Lorma fat in Aldo's hall. She fat at the light of a flaming oak. The night came down, but he did not return. The foul of Lorma is fad ! " What detains thee, hunter of Cona ? Thou didft promife to return. Has the deer been diftant far ? Do the dark winds figh, round thee, on the heath ? I am in the land of ftrangers, who is my friend, but Aldo ? Come from thy founding hills, O my beft beloved V9
vol. 1. b b Her
3<52 The BATTLE of LORA:
Her eyes are turned toward the gate. She liftens to the ruftling blaft. She thinks it is Aldo's tread. Joy rifes in her face ! But for- row returns again, like a thin cloud on the moon. " Wilt thou not return, my love ? Let me behold the face of the hill. The moon is in the eaft. Calm and bright is the breaft of the lake ! When fhall I behold his dogs, re- turning from the chafe ? When fhall I hear his voice, loud and diftant on the wind ? Come from thy founding hills, hunter of woody Cona !" His thin ghoft appeared, on a rock, like a watry beam of feeble light : when the moon mines fudden from between two clouds, and the midnight fhower is on the field ! She followed the empty form over the heath. She knew that her hero fell. I heard her ap- proaching cries on the wind, like the mourn- ful voice of the breeze, when it fighs on the grafs of the cave !
She came. She found her hero ! Her voice was heard no more. Silent fhe rolled her eyes. She was pale and wildly fad ! Few were her days on Cona, Slie funk into the tomb. Fin- gal commanded his bards ; they fungover the death of Lornja. The daughters of Morven mourned her, for one day in the year, when the dark winds of autumn returned !
Son of the diftant land * ! Thou dwelleft in the field of lame ! O let thy fong arife, at
* The poet addreffes himfelf to the Culdee.
times,
A P O E M. 363
times, in praife of thofe who fell. Let their thin ghofts rejoice around thee ; and the foul of Lorma come on a feeble beam * : when thou heft down to reft, and the moon looks into thy cave. Then (halt thou fee her lovely ; but the tear is (till on her cheek !
* Be thou on a moon-beam, O Morna, near the win- dow of my reft ; when my thoughts are of peace ; and the din of arms is paft. Fingal, B. I.
£ND OF THE FIRST VOLUME,
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