Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 2

86 T E M O R A: Book IV.
his fathers. Soft was his voice when he touched
the harp, in the hall, near his roaring ftreams !
*' King of Erin," faid Hidalla, *' now Is
the time to feaft. Bid the voice of bards arife.
Bid them roll the night away. The foul returns,
from fong, more terrible to war. Darknefs
fettles on Erin. From hill to hill btnd the
ikirted clouds. Far and grey, on the heath, the
dreadful ftrides of ghc fts are {ccn : the ghofts of
thofe who fell bend forward to their fong. Bid,
O Cathmor, the harps to rife, to brighten the
dead, on their wandering blafts."
*' Be all the dead forgot," faid Foldath's
burning wrath. " Did not I fail in the field ?
Shall I then hear the fong ? Yet was not my
courfe harmlefs in war. Llood was a flream
around my fteps. But the feeble were behind
me. The foe has efcaped from my fword. In
Clonra's vale touch thou the harp. Let Dura
anfwer to tlic voice of Hidalla. Let fome maid
look, from the wood, on thy long, yellow
locks. Fly from Lubar's ecchoing plain. This
|s the field of heroes !"
" King of Erin *," Malthos faid, " it is
THINE to lead in war. Thou art a fire to our
eyes, on the dark-brown field. Like a blaft
* This fpeech of Malthos if, throughout, a fcvere repri-
mand to the bluUering behaviour of Foldath,
THOU