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.
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