J. F. Campbell Collection > Temora, an ancient epic poem, in eight books

i6 T E M O R A:
is fad, for he had often led them to the chace ; to the bounding
roe of the defart.
When Ofcar faw his friends around, his white breaft rofe with
fighs. — The groans, he faid, of aged chiefs ; tlie howhng of my
dogs : the fudden burfts of the fong of grief, have melted Ofcar's
foul. My foul, that never melted before; it was like the ftecl of
my fword. — Oflian, carry me to my hills ! Raife the ftones of my
renown. Place the horn of the deer, and my fword within my
narrow dwelling. — The torrent hereafter may raife the earth :
th^ hunter may find the fleel and fay, " This has been Ofcar's
'' fword."
And falleft thou, fon of my fame ! And fhall I never fee thee,
Ofcar ! When others hear of their fons, I fliall not hear of thee.
The mofs is on thy four grey ftones ; the mournful wind is there.
The battle fliall be fought without him : he fliall not purfue the
dark-brown hinds. When the warrior returns from battles, and
tells of other lands ; 1 have feen a tomb, he will fay, by the roaring
ftream, the dark dwelling of a chief. He fell by car-borne Ofcar,
the firft of mortal men. — I, perhaps, fliall hear his voice ; and a
beam of joy will rife in my foul.
The night would have defcended in forrow, and morning re-
turned in the fliadow of grief: our chiefs would have flood like
cold dropping rocks on Moi-lena, and have forgot the war, did not
the king difperfe his grief, and raife his mighty voice. The chiefs,
as new- wakened from dreams, lift up their heads around.
How long on Moi-lena fliall we weep ; or pour our tears in Ullin ?
The mighty will not return. Ofcar fliall not rife in his ftrength.
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