Ossian Collection > Fingal

A POEM. 139
rife with the morning's light, and feed on the
mofTy ftream. But my tears return with tlie fun,
my iighs come on with the night. When wilt thou
come in thine arms, O chief of mofly Tura ?
Pleasant is thy voice in OlTian's ear, daugh-
ter of car-borne Sorglan ! But retire to the hall of
fliells ; to the beam of the burning oak. — At-
tend to the murmur of the fea : it rolls at Dun-
fcaich's walls : let flecp defcend on thy blue eyes,
and the hero come to thy dreams.
CucHULLiN fits at Lego's lake, at the dark
rolling of waters. Night is around the hero ; and
his thoufands fpread on the heath : a hundred oaks
burn in themldri:, the feaft of fliells is fmoaking
wide. — Carril Ifrikes the harp, beneath a tree;
his gray locks glitter in the beam ; the ruftlingblaft
of night is near, and lifts his aged hair. — His fong
is of the blue Togorma, and of its chief, Cuchul-
lin's friend.
Why art thou abfent, Connal, In the day of the
gloomy florm ? The chiefs of the fouth have con-
vened againftthe car-borne Cormac : the winds de-
tain thy fails, and thy blue waters roll around thee.
But Cormac is not alone : the fon of Semo fights
his battles. Semo's fon his battles fights ! the ter-
ror of the ftranger ! he that is like the vapour of
death *, flowly borne by fultry winds. The fun
reddens in its prefence, the people fall around.
Such was the fong of Carril, when a fon of the
foe appeared ; he threw down his pointlefs fpear,
and
* oh J^'Ik VipieoV k^zCwVY) tpAtViTett d^f
KavfAAToi «f clny.oio S'u<TAiOi o^vvy.ivoio. Hom. II. 5,
As vapours blown by Aufter's fultry breath,
Pregnant with plagues, and fhedding feeds of death
Beneath the rage of burning Sirius ri^,
Choke the parch'd earth, and blacken all the (kles. Pope