Ossian Collection > Fingal

A POEM, 145
fince thou hafl been in the rOar of battles, and Brage'la diftant far. —
Hills oftheiile of mift ! when will ye anfwer to his hounds ?
But ye are dark in your clouds, and fad Bragela calls in vain. Night
comes rolling down : the face of ocean fails. The heath-cock's
head is beneath his wing : the hind fleeps with the hart of the de-
fart. They fliall rife with the morning's light, and feed on the
molly flream. But my tears return with the fun, my fighs come
on with the night. When wilt thou come in thine arms, O chief
of mofly Tura ?
Pleasant is thy voice in Oilian's ear, daughter of car-borne
Sorglan ! But retire to the hall of fliells ; to the beam of the burning
oak. Attend to the murmur of the fea : it rolls at Dunfcaich's
walls : let lleep defcend on thy blue eyes, and the hero come to thy
dreams.
CuCHULLiN fits at Lego's lake, at the dark rolling of wa-
ters. Night is around the hero ; and his thoufands fpread on the
heath : a hundred oaks burn in the midft, the feafl: of fliells is fmok-
ing wide. — Carril ilrikes the harp, beneath a tree j his gray locks
glitter in the beam ; the ruflling blaft of night is near, and lifts his
aged hair. — His fong is of the blue Togorma, and of its chief, Cu-
chuUin's friend.
Why art thou abfent, Connal, in the day of the gloomy ftorm ?
The chiefs of the fouth have convened againft the car-borne Cor-
mac : the winds detain thy fails, and thy blue waters roll around
thee. But Corm^c is not alone : the fon of Semo fights his battles.
Semo's fon his battles fights ! the terror of the flranger ! he that is
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