Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

CAKKAIG-THURA, 53
Its doors opened Carraig of hundreds, 505
The feast of flowing shells was found ;
The soft sound of music arose ;
There was joy in the hall of heroes ;
Thy voice was heard, Ullin of songs,
And ocean-circled Selma's harp. 510
Utha was in joy at his side ;
She asked for a sad song of grief ;
Tears suffused her slow-moving eyes,
As Cridhmor of tender lays spoke
About ready-armed Rinmal's daughter, 515
Who dwelt beside the stream of Lotha.
Most pleasant, though long, was the lay ;
The bright bough from the north had joy.
Cridhmor.
Who so noiseless comes from the heath,
Like a sun-lit cloud from the west ? 520
From whom is the voice that is sweet,
Though loud as the wind of the mount,
And pleasant as the harp of Caruill 1
My chief in his brightness it is,
The brave hero of arms in grief. 525
The colour of thy brow is dark ;
Is Fionngal the chief without life ?
Why, Conall, thy sorrow and gloom ?
Conall.
The chief lives, from guiding the chase,
Like great light the wroth king returned ; 530
The sun is on his shield's bright boss,