Ossian Collection > Fingal, an ancient epic poem

An epic POEM; 205-
are in the fong. — But we are old, O Ufnoth,
let us not fall like aged oaks ; which the blaft
overturns in fecret. The hunter came pafl, and
faw them lying gray, acrofs a flream. How
have thcfe fallen, he faid,,and whirling pafled
alorg.
Raise the fong of joy, ye bards of Morven,.
that our fouls may forget the paft. — The red
ftars look on us from the clouds, and fiiently
defcend. Soon (hall the gray beam of the mor-
ning rife, and fhew us the foes of Cormac.
Julian, take the fpear of the king; go to Mora's
dark-brov/rr fide. Let thine eyes- travel over the
heath, like flames of fire. Obferve the foes
of Fingal, and the courfe of generous Cathmor.
I hear a diftant found, like the falling of rocks in
the defart. But flrike thou thy fliield, at
times, that they may not come through night,
and the fame of Alorven ceafe. — I begirt to
be alone, my fon, and 1 dread the fall of my
renown.
The voice of the bards arofe. The king
leaned on the fliield of Trenmor. — Sleep de-
fcended on his eyes, and his future battles rofe in
his dreams. The hofl are fleeping around.
Dark-haired Fillan obferved the foe. His fteps
are on a diflant hill : we hear, at times, his
clanging fhield.
One of the Fragments of Ancient Poetry lately
publifhed, gives a different account of the death of
Ofcar, the (on of Oflian. The tranflator, though