Ossian Collection > Fragments of ancient poetry, collected in the Highlands of Scotland

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V.
A Utumn is dark on the mountains;
grey mid reds on the hills. The
whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark
rolls the river through the narrow plain.
A tree ftands alone on the hill, and
marks the grave of Connal. The leaves
whirl round with the wind, and drew
the grave of the dead. At times are
feen here the ghofhs of the deceafed,
when the mufing hunter alone flalks
flowly over the heath.
Who can reach the fource of thy
race, O Connal ? and who recount thy
Fathers ? Thy family grew like an oak
on the mountain, which meeteth the
wind with its lofty head. But now it
is torn from the earth. Who fliall fup-
ply the place of Connal ?
Here