Blair Collection > Galic antiquities

A POEM, 157
winds. O that I had been nigh the chief of Strnmon, when blew
tlie Ilorni of Ifrona !
Where, then, ye ghofts of Morven, were you? Were you
afleep in your airy caves, the dark-gray chambers of the clouds, or
fporting with the withered leaf, the play of whiftling boys, when
you did not warn your fens of the danger of Gaul ? — But you did
warn us, friendly fpirits of our fathers ! Twice you drove back our
fails to Ifrona's fhore, as you fent your terrible roar along the
deep. Bvit we did not underftand the fign. We thought you had
been the ghofls of foes, that meant to oppofe our return. — The
king drove his blade through the gray folds of their robe, as over
his head they palled. " Purfue," he faid, " the thiftles beard in other
lands ; or fport, where you can, with the fons of the feeble."
Mournful they flew upon their blaft. Their found was like
movmtain-lighs on dark ftreams, when cranes foretel the ftorm.
Some thought they half-heard from them the name of Gaul.
" Am I alone in the midfl of thoufands ? Is there no fword to fhine,
with mine, in the darknefs of battle ? — The breeze blows towards
Morven. Thither is the courfe of white-headed billows. Shall Gaul
lift his fails? His friends are not with him. What fliall Fingal fay,
who bade his fons to mark the path of Gaul in battle f ? What fhall
the bards fay if they fee a cloud on the fame of the fon of Morni ?
Mornl! my father! wouldfl thou not bluih if thy fon retired? Yes,
with thy white hairs, thou wouldit hide thy face in the prefence of
the heroes of otlier times, and figh in the wind above the vale of
Stru-
t " Fillan and Ofcar, of the dark-brown hold the fon of Morni. Let your fwords
hair! fair R.yno, with the pointed fleel ! be like his in the ftrife, and behold the
advance with valour to the fight, and be- deeds of his hands." Fingal, B. 4,