Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 2

122 T E M O R A: Book VI.
Now they bend forward In battle. Death's
hundred voices arife. The khigs, on either fide,
were lik-e fires on the fouls of the hofts. Oflian
bounded along. High rocks and trees rulli tall
between the war and me. But I hear the noife
of fteel, between my clanging arms. Rifmg,
gleaming, on the hill, I behold the backward
fteps of hofts : their backward Heps, on either
fide, and wildly-looking eyes. The chiefs were
met in drcadfid fight ! The two blue-lliielded
kings ! Tall and dark, through gleams of fleel,
are feen the llriving heroes ! I rulTi. My fears
for Fillan fly, burning acrofs my foul.
I COME. Nor Cathmor flies ; nor yet comes
on; he fidelong flalks along. An icy rock,
cold, tall he feems. I call forth all my fleel.
Silent awhile we flride, on either fide of a rulh-
ing flream : then, fudden turning, all at once,
we raife our pointed fpears ! We raife our
fpears, but night comes down. It is dark and
filent round j but wliere the diftant flcps of hofls
are founding over the heath !
I COME to the place where Fillan fought. Nor
voice, nor found is there. A broken helmet
lies on earth, a buckler cleft In twain. Where,
Fillan, where art thou, young chief of eccho-
ing Morven ? He hears me leaning on a rock,
which