Ossian Collection > Fingal

44 F I N G A L, Book III.
of the hill. Myfelf *, like a rock, came down, I exulted in
the ftrength of the king. Manywere the deaths of my arm; and
difmal was the gleam of my fword. My locks were not then fo
gray ; nor trembled my hands of age. My eyes were not clofed in
darknefs ; nor failed my feet in the race.
Who can relate the deaths of the people ; or the deeds of mighty
heroes ; when Fingal, burning in his wrath, confumed the fons of
Lochlin ? Groans fwelled on groans from hill to hill, till night had
covered all. Pale, flaring like a herd of deer, the fons of Lochlin
convene on Lena. We fat and heard the fprightly harp at Lubar's
gentle ftream. Fingal himfelf was next to the foe ; and liftened to
the tales of bards. His godlike race were in the fong, the chiefs of
other times. Attentive, leaning on his fliield, the king of Morven
fat. The wind whiftled through his aged locks, and his thoughts
are of the days of other years. Near him on his bending fpear,
my young, my lovely Ofcar ftood. He admired the king of Mor-
ven : and his adtions were fwelling in his foul.
Son of my fon, begun the king, O Ofcar, pride of youth, I faw
the fliining of thy fword and gloried in my race. Purfue the glory
of our fathers, and be what they have been ; when Trenmor lived,
the firft of men, and Trathal the father of heroes. They fought the
battle in their youth, and are the fong of bards.
O Oscar ! bend the ftrong in arm : but fpare the feeble hand.
Be thou a ftream of many tides againft the foes of thy people ; but
* Here the poet celebrates his own ac- fuggefts to him the helplefs fituation of his
tions, but he does it in fuch a manner that age. We do not defpife him for felfifli
we are not difpleafed. The mention of praife, but feel his misfortunes,
tie great aftions of his youth immediately
Uke