Ossian Collection > Fingal, an ancient epic poem

A 1^ O E M. 145
the voice of the people is lieard no more. The
{Iream of Clutha was removed from its place, by
the fall of the walls. — The thiftle fhook, there,
its lonely head : the mofs whiftled to the wind.
The fox looked out, from the windows, the rank
grafs of the wall waved round his head. — Defo-
late is the dwelling of Moina, filence is in the
houfe of her fathers.-^Raife the fong of mourn-
ing, O bards, over the land of Grangers. They
have but fallen before us : for, one day, we mufl
fall. — Why dofl thou build the hall, fon of the
winged days ? Thou lookeft from thy towers to-
day ; yet a few years, and the blad of the defart
comes ; it howls in thy empty court, and whiflles
round thy half-worn fhield. — And let the blafl; of
the defart come ! we fhall be renowned in our
day. The mark of my arm fhall be in the battle,
and my name in the fong of bards. — Raife the
fong ; fend round the Ihell : and let joy be heard
in my hall. — When thou, fun of heaven, (halt
fail ! if thou fhalt fall, thou mighty light ! if thy
brightnefs is for a feafon, like Fingal, our fame
ihall furvive thy beams.
Si^CH was the fong of Fingal, in the day of
his joy. His thoufand bards leaned forward from
their feats, to hear the voice of the king. It was
like the mufic of the harp on the gale of the
fpring. — Lovely were thy thoughts, O Fingal f
v/hy had not OfTian the ftrength of thy foul ? — '
But thou ftandeft: alone, my father ; and who can
equal the king of Morven ?
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