Blair Collection > Galic antiquities

302 CUTHON THE Son of DARGO:
the eafteni hill ; his beams glitter, through the warm lliower, on
the gray beard of the hunter, as he leans forward on his fpear,
liflening to the growing din. — He fees the hoft of Cuthon. " Shall
I not rufli," he fays to his foul, " to the aid of Morven ?" — Thou
needed not, fighter of the wars that are paft : thou mayefl wait on
thy rock till the flrife is over; for the warriors of the king arema-
ny, going down in their terrible joy. — See ! Fergus moves with
kindled wrath before them, tall as a ghofl of the defart, when he
comes fhaking the waving heath with his fteps. He catches the
green groves, as he paffes, in his hands, and overturns them in his
fport, as the whiftling boy lops, with his playful fhaff, the flowers.
In his head is the voice of thunder ; his eye is the place of the
hghtning, and meteors form his waving hair. The nations fee it,
and tremble. — So moves Fergus. A troubled cloud behind him
move his heroes.
The battle joins. Moruth fhakes. The found of fhields, the
crafli of fpears, and the voice of bards, afcend. Whales tremble
on their waves. Roes bound towards the defart. Fowls, on their
ruflling wings, fly over their mountains ; or, trembling, fall with
fear*. The white-handed daughters of the bow are afleep on
their mountain of groves : they hear their noife, as they pafs thro'
pines over their booth : their dreams of danger rife ; they draw
their veil over their head, and tremble for heroes. — Nor is your
trembling without caufe, white-handed huntrefles of Moruth;
many
* The Galic reader will wifh to fee Ann an caoilte caola fuara.
, ^ ,. ... . ^ Chuir iad feidh nam beanntaidh arda
rtiefe lines in their native terror. ^ , .„ ^ _.,
Gus na gleanntaidh fuara falail;
Le iercadail an lanna yarbha ,_ i • , , , . ,i i . -ii., i
^ ° Seunlaiih Llunn-fhoclach nan coiUtCacli,
'S le caoiribh teinc o'n cruaidh arma; . ^ i „ -.i, :ii,.
Anns na fpcuian le ciitn-outtc.
CliuiriaJ iafg nan ciianuidli rtuadiiach,