Ossian Collection > Ossian's Fingal

BOOK I. 17
* In number, equal to the reeds which grow
' In Lego's lake, the ships of Swaran show.
' Connal says peace — Fingal himself would shun,
' The dreadful risk of meeting him to run ;
' Fingal, before whose arm, the mighty fly,
* Like heath before the wind, when loud, and
high,
' By night it rages, and with horrid roar,
* The rapid floods through echoing Cona pour.' —
' Fly, Chief of peace !' said Calmar, Matha's
son,
' Fly to thy silent hills ; where never shone
' The warlike spear — to Cromla's deer give chase,
' And with thine arrows stop their bounding race ;
' But thou, Cuchullin ! Semo's blue-eyed Son !
* Slack not thine arm, until the fight be won.
* Scatter the Sons of Lochlin, far, and wide,
' Shout through those ranks in full career of pride.
Os. B