Ossian Collection > Fragments of ancient poetry

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VII.
TyHY openeft thou afreQi the fpring
of my grief, O fon of Alpin, in-
quiring how Oicur fell ? My eyes are
blind with tears; but memory beams on
my heart. How can I relate the mourn-
ful death of the head of the people !
Prince of the warriours, Ofcur my fon,
fhall I fee thee no more !
He fell as the moon in a ftorm ; as
the fun from the midft of his courfe,
when clouds rife from the wafte of the
waves, when the blacknefs of the ftorm
inwraps the rocks of Ardannider. l,like
an ancient oak on Morven, I moulder
alone in my place. The blaft hath lop-
ped my branches away ; and I tremble
at the wings of the north. Prince of
the warriors, Ofcur my fon ! fhall I fee
thee no more !
Dermid