Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

Book III. AN EPIC POEM. 245
the mother of Calmar may rejoice in my re-
)wn,"
" No: fori of Matha," faid Cuthullin,
" I will never leave thee here. My joy is in
unequal fight : my foul increafes in danger:
Connal, and Carril of other times, carry off
the fad fons of Erin. When the battle is over,
fearch for us in this narrow way. For near
this oak we fhall fall, in the rtream of the bat-
tle of thoufands !" " O FithiPs fon, with flying
fpeed rufh over the heath of Lena. Tell to
Fingal that Erin is fallen. Bid the kins of
Morven come. O let him come, like the fun
in a ftorm, to lighten, to reftore the ifle !"
Morning is grey on Cromla. The fons of
the fea afcend. Calmar flood forth to meet
them in the pride of his kindling foul. But
pale was the face of the chief. He leaned on
his father's fpear. That fpear which he brought
from Lara, when the foul of his mother was
fad ; the foul of the lonely Alcletha, waining
in the forrow of years. But flowly now the
hero falls, like a tree on the plain. Dark Cuth-
ullin ftands alone like a rock in a fandy vale.
The fea comes with its waves, and roars on its
hardened fides. Its head is covered with foam ;
the hills are echoing around.
Now from the grey mift of the ocean, the
white- failed mips of Fingal appear. High is
the grove of their maris, as they ncd, by turns,
on the rolling wave. Swaran faw them from
the hill. Fie returned from the fons of Erin.
As ebbs the refounding fea, through the hun-
r ^3 dred