Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

2^6 FINGAL, BookV.
or yields the hero ?" faid Fingal of the noble
deeds ; " foes do not conquer in my prefence :
my friends are renowned in the hall. Son of
the wave, follow me, partake the feafl of my
fhells : purfue the deer of my defert : be thou
the friend of Fingal" <c No :" faid the hero,
" I affift the feeble. My ftrength is with the
weak in arms. My fword has been always
unmatched, O warrior ! let the king of Mor-
ven yield !" " I never yielded, Orla ! Fingal
never yielded to man. Draw thy fword, and
chufe thy foe. Many are my heroes !"
" Does then the king refufe the fight ?" faid
Orla of the dark-brown fhield. " Fingal is a
match for Orla : and he alone of all his race I"
** Bat, king of Morven, if I mail fall ; as one
time the warrior muft die ; raife my tomb in
the midft : let it be the greater! on Lena. Send,
over the dark-blue wave, the fword of Orla to
the fpoufe of his love ; that fhe may fhew it to
her fon, with tears, to kindle his foul to war."
" Son of the mournful tale," faid Fingal, " why
doft thou awaken my tears ? One day the war-
riors muft die, and the children fee their ufelefs
arms in the hall. But, Orla, thy tomb ihall
rife. Thy white-bofomed fpoufe ihall weep
over thy fword."
They fought on the heath of Lena. Fee-
ble was the arm of Orla. The fword of Fin-
gal defcended, and cleft his fhield in twain.
It fell and glittered on the ground, as the moon
on the ruffled ftream. " King of Morven,"
faid the hero, " lift thy fword and pierce my
bread.