Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

210 TIGHMORA. [Duan 1.
His lips shaking, pale and awry. 50
" Stand the leaders of Erin back,
Like a grove in the quiet night,
Like a forest silent in mist,
When Fionngal on the shore is shining,
Fionngal of the terrible strokes, 55
King of heroes from Morbheinn's streams ? "
" Saw'st thou the redoubtable chief ? "
Said Cairbre with labouring breast.
" Are his warriors many on shore ?
Will he raise for battle the spear, 60
Or cometh the mighty in peace ? "
" He comes not in peace, king of Erin ;
Before him upborne is the spear,
Like the slow fire of death ascending,
Blood of thousands marking its steel. 65
He the first man that struck the land,
Vigorous 'neath ringlets of grey.
Large, sinewy the limbs of the king,
With ease striding over the heath,
His sword hanging slant at his side — 70
That sword that two strokes never needs ;
His awful broad shield in his hand,
Like the round bloody orb of the moon,
Rising boldly amid the storm.
There Ossian, the sweet king of songs ; 75
M orni's son, the leader of chiefs ;
Conal sprang on his spear from the waves ;
Diarmid loosened his locks of brown ;
Fillan bended his bow with pride,
Young hunter from the great hill-streams. 80