Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

264 TIGHMORA. [Duan III.
When regarded he not his friends
'Mid the sound of his spacious hall ? 360
Wherefore are ye mute in my presence ?
Thou wilt, Conal, fall down no more !
May thy spirit have comfort, chief,
Like radiance from the shining sun.
Be thy journey quick to thy fathers, 365
Amid thunder, till falls the wind.
Thy spirit is like lightning, Ossian ;
Brighten memory of the king ;
Recall his conflicts in the glens,
When at first he went forth to war. 370
Conal, hoary have been thy locks ;
Thy youth, hero, was mixed with mine ;
To the mountain, Carthonn one day
Sent our bows to the bounding roes,
To Dunlora of frowning peaks." 375
" Many," myself said, " were the songs,
On our journey across to Erin,
Sweet isle of a hundred green glens.
Often did we raise up the sails
On the blue greatly-rolling waves, 380
When we came, in days that are gone,
With aid to the brave race of Conar.
The sound of high conflict arose
On Alnecma's hills in the south,
At flowing Duthula of waves, 385
Where light foam floats under the linn.
With Cormac there went down to battle
Black Carthonn, the hero from Selma.
Nor alone did the chief go down ;