Ossian Collection > Fingal

A P O E M. 207
the narrow plain. A tree ftands alone on the hill, and marks the
numbering Connal. The leaves whirl round with the wind, and
ftrew the grave of the dead. At times are feen here the ghofts of
the deceafed, when the mufing hunter alone ftalks flowiy over
the heath.
Who can reach the fource of thy race, O Connal ? and who re-
count thy fathers ? Thy family grew like an oak on the inountain,
which meeteth the wind with its lofty head. But now it is torn
from the earth. Who fliall fupply the place of Connal ?
Here was the din of arms; and here the groans of the dying.
Bloody are the wars of Fingal ! O Connal ! it was here thou didft
fall. Thine arm was like a ftorm ; thy fword a beam of the fky;
thy height, a rock on the plain j thine eyes, a furnace of fire.
Louder than a florm was thy voice, in the battles of thy fteeL
Warriors fell by thy fword, as the thiftle by the ftaff of a boy.
Dargo the mighty came on, like a cloud of thunder. His
brows were contradled and dark. His eyes like two caves in a rock.
Bright rofe their fwords on each fide; dire was the clan? of
their fleel.
The daughter of RInval was near ; Crimora bright in the armour
of man ; her yellow hair is loofe behind, her bow is in her hand.
She followed the youth to the war, Connal her much-beloved. She
drew the firing on Dargo ; but erring pierced her Connal. He falls
like an oak on the plain ; like a rock from the fhaggy hill. What fhall
fhe do, haplefs maid ! — He bleeds ; her Connal dies. All the night
long (lie cries, and all the day, O Connal, my love, and my friend !
With grief the fad mourner dies.
Earth