Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, &c > Volume 1

364 THE DEATH OF CUTHULLIN:
" Son of the cloudy night ! " said tHe rising
chief of Erin, " Why dost thou bend thy dark
eyes on me, ghost of the noble Calmar? Wouldest
thou frighten me, O ]\Iatha s son ! from the bat-
tles of Cormac ? Thy hand was not feeble in
war ; neither was thy voice for peace. How art
thou changed, chief of Lara ! if thou now dost
advise to fly ! But, Calmar, I never fled. I ne-
ver feared the ghosts of night. Small is their
knowledge, weak their hands ; their dwelling is
in the wind. But my soul grows in danger, and
'rejoices in the noise of steel. Retire thou to thy
cave. Thou art not Calmar's ghost. He de-
lighted in battle. His arm was like the thunder
of heaven !" He retired in his blast with joy;
for he had heard the voice of his praise ".
loose. Joy sits pale on his face.] From INIacphcrson's Verses
on an Ofiicer killed at Quebec.
Why do I see that bleeding bosom gored ?
Why bathed in blood the visionary sword ?
What rudeness ruffled that disordered hair ?
Why, blameless shade ! that mournful aspect wear ?
But " he stalked diynli/ along the bea7n.—lic seems to invite
CuthuUin to his cave/' is from Pope's Elegtj.
W' hat beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade,
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ?
AVhy dirnlt/ gleams the visionary sword ?
" lie retired to his blast uith joy ; for he had heard the voice