Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

50 F I N G A L. [Book III.
Came Calmar slowly, Matha's wounded son.
Forth from the field, besmear'd with purple blood
He came supported by his bending spear.
The arm of battle is no longer strong,
But martial vigour still his soul retains. 140
' Welcome, O son of Matha,' Connal said,
* Thou comest welcome to thy faithful friends !
* From that steel'd breast, a stranger still to fear,
* Why bursteth now the heaving, broken sigh ?' —
' And never,'— then the bleeding warrior cry'd, li^
* No — never, Connal, chief of pointed steel,
* Will fear assail it. Cheer'd with martial roar,
* My soul still brightens as the danger grows.
* Steel'd was my race, — my fathers never fear'd.
* In Cormac first my race illustrious sprung, 15t
* Who sportive stem'd the raging storms o( waves.
' His black skiff bounded on the restless main,
* And brush'd along as blows the winged blast.
* A spirit once embroil'd the dusky night—
* Seas swell and rocks resound in bellowing strife; 15i
* Whilst clouds along by roaring winds are driv'n,
* And forked light'ning flies on wings of fire!
* He fear'd, and came to land : — yet forth again,
* Abash'd and blushing that he fear'd at all,
* Among the rolling billows bravely rush'd ; lJ5ft
* Resolv'd to find the boist'rous son of wind.
* The bounding bark three youths with caution guide,
* Wliilst he, with sword unsheath'd, intrepid stood.
* Now, when the low-hung vapour pass'd along,
' He boldly sciz'd it by the curling head, 16S
< And ransack'd its dark womb with glitt'ring steel.