Ossian Collection > Fingal

A P O E M. 103
Now dark and deep, with all his fteeds, Caros rolled his might
along : the little ftreams are loft in his courfe ; and the earth is rock-
ing round. Battle fpreads from wing to wing : ten thoufand
fwords gleam at once in the fky. But why fliould OlTian fing of
battles ? — For never more fliall my fteel fliine in war. I remember
the days of my youth with forrow ; when I feel the weaknefs of my
arm. Happy are they who fell in their youth, in the midft of their
renown ! — They have not beheld the tombs of their friend : or fail-
ed to bend the bow of their ftrength. Happy art thou, O Of-
car, in the midft of thy rufhing blaft. Thou often goeft to the
fields of thy fame, where Caros fled from thy lifted fword.
Darkness comes on my foul, O fair daughter of Tofcar, I be-
hold not the form of my fon at Carun ; nor the figure of Ofcar on
Crona. The ruftling winds have carried him far away ; and the
heart of his father is fad.
But lead me, O Malvina, to the found of my woods, and the
roar of my mountain ftreams. Let the chace be heard on Conaj
that I may think on the days of other years. — And bring me the
harp, O maid, that I may touch it when the light of my foul ftiall
arife. Be thou near, to learn the fong ; and future times fhall
hear of Ofiian.
The fons of the feeble hereafter will lift the voice on Cona;
and, looking up to the rocks, fay, " Here Oflian dwelt." They
fliall admire the chiefs of old, and the race that are no more :
while we ride on our clouds, Malvina, on the wings of the roaring
winds. Our voices ftiall be heard, at times, in the defart ; and we
fliall fing on the winds of the rock.
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