Ossian Collection > Gaelic bards

OSSIANIC POKTRY. 207
His locks, where dream the antler'd deer,
His head, AvLcrc sleejD the clouds, we'll see.
Sgorr-eilt looks o'er the valley's brow,
Whence first the cuckoo's music flows ;
The hill where thousand fir-trees grow,
And green herbs for the elks and roes.
The young ducks cheerily skim the pool,
Round which the fir-trees wave their heads,
And toss their green arms beautiful,
Above the ripening rowans red.
With snowy breast the swan comes nigh,
And crest the waves with graceful pride
Or, raising up her wings on high.
Amid the clouds she'll lightly glide.
Oft doth she journey o'er the sea
To lands where breaks the cold white spray
Where sail or mast shall never be,
ISTor oaken prow shall cleave its way.
Come to the brakes and mountain caves —
Thy mouth full of love's plaintive sighs —
O swan ! from the land of the waves,
And sing me to rest from the skies.
O rise, with thy mild and sweet song '
Tell thy piteous tale from on high,
The echo will spread it along,
Andjsend thy grief mournfully by.
Raise thy wing o'er the ocean's bound,
Grasp its speed from the strong Avind above,
For sweet to my ear comes the sound
From thy much pain'd heart of sad love.