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

An epic poem, 21
ear. — Often have we moved, on Dora, to the chace of the dark-
brown hinds : his bow was unerring on the mountains. — He fpoke
of mighty men. He told of the deeds of my fathers ; and I felt
my ioy. — But fit thou at the feaft, O bard, I have often heard
thy voice. Sing in the praife of CuchulUn i and of that mighty
flranger *.
Day rofe on woody Temora, with all the beams of the eaft.
Trathin came to the hall, the fon of old Gellama -f. — I behold, he
faid, a dark cloud in the defart, king of Innisfail ! a cloud it feemed
at firft, but now a croud of men. One ftrides before them in his
fti ength ; his red hair flies in wind. His ihield glitters to the beam,
of the eaft. His fpear is in his hand.
Call him to the feaft of Temora, replied the king of Erin,
My hall is the houfe of ftrangers, fon of the generous Gellama ! —
Perhaps it is the chief of Etha, coming in the found of his re-
nown. — Hail, mighty "^ ftranger, art thou of the friends of Cor-
mac ? — Bat Carril, he is dark, and unlovely ; and he draws his
fword. Is that the fon of Ufnoth, bard of the times of old ?
It is not the fon of Ufnoth, faid Carril, but the chief of Atha.
' Why comeft thou in thy arms to Temora, Cairbar of the
gloomy brow ? Let not thy fword rife againft Cormac ! Whither
doft thou turn thy fpeed ?
He pafled on in his darknefs, and feized the hand of the king.
Cormac forefaw his death, and the rage of his eyes arofc. — Retire,
* Nathosthe fon of Ufnoth. thatCaiibar had entered the palace of Te-
t Geal-lamha, white-handed. mora, in the midft of Cor.-iiac's f;eech.
X From this expreffion, we undcrftand,
thou