Blair Collection > Galic antiquities

324 The FALL of TURA:
of their joy. O why did they not find the way to it, when the
flame of the kindled heath awoke them ! — No morning, with its
cahn voice, fliall ever difpel your flumbers, daughters of the
mountains ! The voice of the lover, no more, fhall fay " Awake."
We turn to the ruin our back. We bend, in fadnefs, over our
fpears ; and loudly bewail our lofs. — Our hundred helmets, and
our hundred boffy fliields ; our coats of mail, and fwords of light;
our hundred hounds, the young children of the chafe ; our flud-
ed reins, the rulers of proud fleeds ; and all our banners, red-
green meteors that ftreamed in air ; — all thefe, were, that day,^
forgot ; no hero remembered they were in the hall. — The burfl
of our grief was for our hundred fair, and for their little fons ;
that young grove of trees, growing in their robes of green, in
the fliowery fun-beams of the fpring. — They were youiig trees ;
but the flame catched their green heads, and laid their beauty,
amidfl aflies, low. — Malvina, fair light ! it is not without caufe
thou art fad ; for all the bright beams that attended thy cotirfe are
extinguifhed. One mournful grave contains the remains of thy
fiflers. . -
We fliood all day, like the dark ftream which the ice hath bound
in its courfe on the mountain of cold. — The darknefs of night
would return unperceived, if a voice had not awaked us from our
grief. — It is the burfl: of the voice of Gara. We look for him
in the tower where he had refted ; but he is not there. His voice
afcends from a cave. The fad mourner there is ftretched in grief.
— In the troubled dreams of his reft, the crackling flames had
aflailed his ear ; he thought the foot of the foe approached. With
a louder crafli the roof falls in. The fhield of the king, he
thinks,.