Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

CONLAOCH AND CUTHONNA, 353
The hero is the friend of Toscar ; 125
His great land for me had a feast.
A warm breeze from Erin shall rise
To waft her to the shore of Mora ;
On Mora the maid shall have peace.
Toscar's days are floating to grief. 130
I shall sit in the sheltering cave,
Thence to look on the sunny fields ;
There is wind from clouds in the trees,
And the noble bright maid is calm,
Kindly Cuthonn' of the sad voice ; 135
But far from my ear is the maid,
In the festive dwelling of Conlaoch.
CuTHOXXA.
What cloud is this on me that falls,
Carrying my hero away }
I am seeing his airy robes, 140
Like grey mist on the distant hill.
Mighty Rumar, when shall I fall ?
My heart's grief is causing my death.
►Shall I see thee not, Conlaoch of strokes,
Ere lifeless I sink in the grave ? 145
Ossiax.
Bright maiden, thou wilt see thy love ;
The hero comes over the strait;
Toscar's death is darkening his spear,
In his side is a ghastly wound ;
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