Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

346 TIGHMORA. [Duan VIII.
The blue-eyed chief at length came over 515
To Mora of dull- roaring falls.
Strains quickly broke forth from the bards
On Lena of rocks and high hills ;
All the people sounded their shields
'Mid the varying turns of song. 520
Gladness brightened in the king's face,
Like rays coming down from a cloud
On the verdant slopes of great woods,
Ere rises the bleak whirling wind.
He struck the warning boss of his shield ; 525
He quickly hushed the hills around ;
The host towards the hero leaned,
At their own land's voice o'er the waves.
" Men of Morbheinn, here spread the feast ;
Let the night pass over with song ; 530
The darkness of thunder has gone ;
The light is around on the plain.
Ye, my people, are my strong rock,
Whence an eagle's wing shall be spread
When I stretch forth my steps to battle, 535
Thus gaining to myself renown.
Ossian, my spear is in thy hand ;
Its shaft is no lad's fragile stick,
That scatters the thistle around,
As slowly he steps o'er the field. 540
'Twas the spear, in their time, of heroes,
Who stretched forth their hands unto death,
llegard thou the sires of the brave,
That like spirits shine from the sky.
When greys the soft light on the sea, 545