Ossian Collection > Temora, an ancient epic poem, in eight books

A P O E M. 1S7
He took my hand. He railed the fail. In this cave he placed
me dark. At times, he comes, a gathered mill. He Hfts, before
me, my father's fliicld. Often palfes a beam* of youth, far-dif-
tant from my cave. He dwells lonely in the foul of the daughter
of Torcul-torno.
Daughter of Lulan, faid Fingal, white-handed Conban-car-
glas ; a cloud, marked with ftreaks of fire, is rolled along the foul.
Look not to that dark-robed moon ; nor yet to thole meteors of
heaven ; my gleaming llecl is around thee, daughter of Torcul-
torno.
It is not the fteel of the feeble, nor of the dark in foul. The
maids are not fhut in our -f caves of flreams ; nor tolling their
white arms alone. They bend, fair within their locks, above the
harps of Selma. Their voice is not in the defart wild, young light
of Torcul-torno.
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* * * * * * * * * * 4^
Fingal, again, advanced his fteps, wide thro' the bofom of
night, to where the trees of Loda Ihook amidll fqually winds.
Three ftones, with heads of mofs, are there ; a ftream, with
* By tke learn of youth, it afterwards ap- than the latter. This diftindion is fo
pears, that Conban-carglas means Swaran, much obferved throughout the poems of
the fon of Starno, with whom, during her Oflian, that there can be no doubt, that
confinement, (he had fallen in love. I'e followed the real manners of both na-
\ From this contraft, which Fingal tions in his own time. At the clofe of
draws, between his own nation, and the the fpeech of Fingal, there is a great part
inhabitants of Scandinavia, we may learn, of the original loft,
that the former were much lefs barbarous
B b 2 foaming