Ossian Collection > Fragments of ancient poetry

[ S7 ]
how peaceful was thy brow ! Thy face
was like the fun after rain ; like the
moon in the filence of night ; calm as
the breall of the lake when the loud
wind is laid.
Narrow is thy dwelling now ; dark
the place of thine abode. With three
fteps I compafs thy grave, O thou who
wall fo great before ! Four (tones with
their heads of mofs are the only memo-
rial of thee. A tree with fcarce a leaf,
long grafs which whiftles in the wind,
mark to the hunter's eye the grave of
the mighty Morar. Morar ! thou art
low indeed. Thou halt no mother to
mourn thee ; no maid with her tears of
love. Dead is fhe that brought thee
forth. Fallen is the daughter of Mor-
glan.
Who on his ftaff is this ? who is this,
whofe head is white with age, whofe
H eyes