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

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eyes are red with tears, who quakes
at every ftep ? — It is thy father, O
Morar! the father of none but thee.
He heard of thy famein battle ; he heard
of foes difperfed. He heard of Morar s
fame ; why did he not hear of his
wound ? Weep, thou father of Morar !
weep.; but thy fon heareth thee not.
Deep is the fleep of the dead ; low their
pillow of duft. No more fhalj he hear
thy voice; no morefhall he awake at
thy call. When Ihall it be morn in tlic
grave, to bid the flumbcrer awake I
.' Par DWELL, thou braveft of men!
^thou conqueronin the field ! but the field
ihall fee thee no more; nor the dark
wood be. lightened with the fplendor of
thy fleel. Thou diaft left no fon.
But the fong fhall prefer ve thy name.
Future times fliall hear of thee; they
fliall hear of the fallen Morar.
XIIL