Ossian Collection > Report of the Committee of the Highland Society of Scotland, appointed to inquire into the nature and authenticity of the poems of Ossian

318 EXTRACT OF A POEM, ETC.
The heroes have gone to the grave
That sees not day,
Which has caused mine eye to be in mist.
I am like the lonely wounded bird of the wood.
While I mourn without ceasing in the hall,
Without sight, or offspring, or cause of joy,
I am like the tree whose growth has ceased,
Or like the nut in its withered husk,
Ready to drop down to the ground.
Grievous it is to the sorrowful heart,
That it cannot derive relief from friends.
Like the dying hart is my form,
My voice sinks under the dew of night !