Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

Duan III.] FIONXGAL. 149
The hero was grieved for his friends,
Calm asleep on the field of battle ;
He dreaded the face of the king,
Who had hailed him from strife so oft. 270
" Many are my heroes on earth,
Erin's chiefs of comliest looks ;
They who were sprightly in the hall,
When the sound of banqueting rose ;
Never more shall I see their steps 275
On the heath, in the face of storms ;
No more hear their voice in the chase
By the stream of deer on the hill ;
Still, silent, and lowly, asleep,
Lying without light are my friends. 280
Idle shades of the mighty dead,
Meet me when alone on the heath,
When the wind bends the tree of Tura,
And weird sounds are heard on the mount.
Let me lie far apart in secret, 285
Unknown to man of speech or song ;
Stone nor tomb for me shall not rise
By the shore of waves nor in glen.
Mourn thou for me among the dead,
Bra'geal of the beautiful locks ; 290
Be mournful, and my fame departed."
Like this was the talk of the chief,
As behind him he put the hill.
In his ship that was large and strong,
The king greatly stretched out his spear ; 295
An earnest of death in the field.
His steel was like flame on a rock,