Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

dl-ax i.] tighmora. -rib
His arm was right powerful to smite.
Alas ! that I'm not like my father
When his wrath was aroused in battle.
Then I'd meet in the conflict of heroes
The great foe of Cuchullin himself, 515
Ceanntala of the dreadful cars.
It may be, when a year rolls by,
That then, Althan of song, this arm
"Will be strong in the wars of chiefs.
Hast thou heard of Seuma's brave son, 520
The chief ruler in high Tighmora \
Would that he were here with his fame,
As he promised me at the time !
For the bards await him with song,
A feast is spread in the hall of harps.' 525
" While listening in silence to Cormac,
The tears down my cheek softly ran ;
I hid them with my hoary hair ;
But the king saw my deep distress.
' Son of Conachar of sweet songs, 530
Is Seuma's son of swords laid low \
Why in secret escapes the sigh,
While the tears trickle down thy cheeks {
Is Torlath of the cars at hand \
And the sounding of red-haired Cairbre I 535
They are come ; I now see thy grief ;
The chief of towered Tura is dark.
Shall I not go to war with heroes ?
But how wield the great spear in battle ?
If my arm were but like Cuchullin's, 540
Cairbre would leave the hill in fear ;