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

An epic poem. 23
filence : my fame fliall not be heard. — Cairbar ! loofe the bards :
they are the fons of other times. Their voice fliall be heard in
other vears ; after the kings of Temora have failed. •
We came forth at the words of the chief. We faw him in his
ftrength. He was like thy youth, O Fingal, when thou firft didft
lift the fpear. — His face was like the plain of the fun, when it is
bright : no darknefs travelled over his brow. But he came with
his thoufands to Ullin ; to aid the red-haired Cairbar : and now he
comes to revenge his death, O king of woody Morven.
And let him come, replied the king; I love a foe like Cath-
mor. His foul is great ; his arm is f>rong, his battles are full of
fame. But the little foul is a vapour that hovers round the mar-
fhy lake : it never rifes on the green bill, lefl the winds fliould meet
it there : its dwelling is in the cave, it fends forth the dart of death.
Our young heroes, O warriors, are like the renown of our fa-
thers. — They fight in youth ; they fall : their names are in the
fong. Fingal is amidft his darkening years. He muft not fall, as
an aged oak, acrofs a fecret ftream. Near it are the fleps of the
hunter, as it lies beneath the wind. " How has that tree fallen ? "
He, whirling, ftrides along.
Raise the fopg of joy, ye bards of Morven, that our fouls may
forget the paft. — The red ftars look on us from the clouds, and
filently defcend. Soon fliall the grey beam of the morning rife,
and fliew us the foes of Cormac. Fillan ! take the fpear of the
king ; go to Mora's dark-brown fide. Let thine eyes travel over
the heath, like flames of fire, Obferve the foes of Fingal, and
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