Blair Collection > Galic antiquities

A P O E M. 167
brown bufli, he lifts his head from beneath his wing ; and, trem-
bUng, raifes the mournful, plaintive voice. — I flarted at the cry
from iny dream. I faw Morni rolled away, a gray cloud, in the
fold of the blafl. I purfued the path which he marked on the fea.
I found on the bhie face of the wave, flieltered by a defert ifle,
the ikiff. On the dark fide of it leaned the head of Gaul. Under
his elbow relied the flrield of battle. Over its edge half-looked the
wound, and poured the red-ftream around its bofs. I lifted the
helmet from his face. His yellow locks, folded in fweat, were
wandering on his brow. At the burll of my grief he tried to raife
his eye ; but it was heavy. Death came, like night on the eye of
the fun, and covered it with all its darknefs. — Never more, O Gaul,
flialt thou behold the father of thy Ofcar.
Beside the fon of Morni is the decayed beauty of Evirchoma.
Her child fmiles, carelefs, in her arms ; and plays with the head
of the fpear. Her words were few : her voice was feeble. I gave
her my hand to raife her up. She laid it on the head of Ogal, as,
fighing, Ihe pierc'd with her look my melting foul. — No more
fhall Evirchoma rife ! Sweet helplefs child, thou needeft no longer
cling to the breaft of thy mother. Ofhan fliall be thy father : but
Evirallin is not ; and who fliall fupply the place of Evirchoma !
— But I feel the meltings of my foul return. — Why fhould Oflian
remember all the griefs that are paft ? Their memory is mourn-
fuUy-pleafant ; but his tears would fail.
We came to Strumon's mofly flreams. Silence dwelt around
their banks. No column of fmoke, blue-curhng, rifes from the
hall. No voice of fongs is there ; no foft trembling found of the
harp. The breeze ruflies, whiflHng, through its open porch; and
lifts