Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

64 CARTIIOXX.
A weak ghost, who delights in praise,
Showed the foe approaching from ocean ;
The mist from the water that rose, 240
Great danger foreboded to men.
With each hand on a spear's bright shaft,
With a keen sharp sword on each side,
With a black helm raised on each head,
With each mail like fire of the sky, 245
Like a storm the strife brews on high ;
Soon shall heard be the cold voice of death."
The king moved, then followed the people,
Like wave-clouds full of fire and sound,
When comes from the north the sharp lightning
On a seafarer lone in storm. 251
On Cona in wrath stood the men ;
The pure-bosomed maids saw the brave —
Like a grove with boughs were the heroes.
They saw death 'mong the youths of blows ; 255
Their sad eyes looked with fear on ocean,
On the foam which traversed like sails.
Tears coursed on their modest bright cheeks ;
Their souls grieved for the deeds of heroes.
The light brightened up on the sea, 260
A great fleet was like mist on waves ;
The heroes poured fast on the shore.
In the mustered host was a chief,
Like the red hinds' leader on hills,
With his shield gay burnished with gold ; 265
Manly, brave was the king of spears,
As he marched to Selma of towers
With his thousands round on the field.