Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

Duan IV.] FIOXXGAL. 171
Chose Torman's fair-combating king ;
I promised to win from the hero
His blue sword and his dusky shield.
" Great luck and success to each chief ! "
Said Fionngal of manner benign ; 395
" Suaran, noisy king of the waves,
Thee have I chosen, man of might."
Like the wind from a hundred hills
Rushing strong through a hundred glens,
Breaking dark on the standing rocks, 400
Quickly moved Selma's mountain race,
While Cromla of ghosts echoed round.
Who the number of deaths could tell
When we closed on the wooded shore ?
Noble daughter of Toscar of ships, 405
Bloody were our hands in the strife ;
The face of the foe fell in battle,
Like the banks of strong-rushing Cona ;
The chiefs and their pledge went together ;
We triumphed and slew in pursuit. 410
At Bran of the hill's roaring stream,
Oft has sat the maid of white hands
When fatigued from the chase ; thy breast
Piising fast, as full as the form
Of a swan afloat on the lake, 415
When she glides on before the wind ;
When slowly her white wing is raised
As the breeze encircles her side.
Thou'st, maid, on the high mountain, seen
The sun setting red under clouds, 420
Darkness closing fast round the hill,