Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

Book VI.] FINGAL. 9^
" And, bending o'er the dark blue rolling main,
" Shall view the sails of him, who slew her son." 105
" 1 will not lift the spear," * reply'd the youth :'
" With age my tender arm not yet is steel'd.
*' But with the feather'd dart a distant foe
*' I'ra skill'd to pierce. That heavy mail of steel
*' Throw down : — for, with it Trenmor o'er is clad. 110
" Here, on the ground my mail I first do lay
" Now throw thy dart, O king of Morven's hills."
' He look'd — and saw the heaving of her breast !
' The king's own sister! She, in Gormal's halls,
* On him had look'd, and lov'd his face of youth. 115
* Direct from Trenmor's hand now dropt the spear!
* And to the ground his blushing face he bent !
' For, like a beam of light descending on
* The son's of darkness from the nightly cave
* Emerging to revisit realms of day, 120
* When the sun's rays depress their aching eyes,
* Appear'd she dazzling to his vanquish'd sight.'
** Chief of the windy Morvcn," * said the maid
* With snowy arms,' " within thy bounding ship,
" Far from the love of Coria, let me rest. 125
" For he with terror Inibaca strikes,
" Like desert-thunder. In his gloomy pride
" He makes his suit, and shakes ten thousand spears."
" Rest thou in peace," * the mighty Trenmor said,
" Behind my father's shield.— I will not fly J 30
" Tho' this proud chief ten thousand spears do boast."
* Three days he waited on the lonely sliore
* Anxious for fight, and sent his horu abroad,