Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

A DRAMATIC POEM. 109
COM ALA.
Son of the cloudy night, speak out and tell,
On Crona's banks what mighty chieftain fell ?
Was he in whiteness like high Ardven's snow,
In radiance blooming as the show'ry bow ?
Didst thou perceive, like mountain-mists, his hair, 65
Which soft and curling, in the heat, appear?
Did hv, like thunder, rush upon the foe ?
And were his feet swift as the desert roe?
HID ALLAN.
O, th:it f.iir-leaning from her craggy clifif
I might behold his love, the child of grief ; 70
Her red eye shaded with the falling tear ;
Her blushing cheek half hid in her loose hair !
Blow, gentle breeze, along the ridgy rocks
And heave the charming virgin's heavy locks :
That I the whiteness of her arm may see, 75
And cheek, more lovely made by misery,
COMALA.
And is the son of Comhal fall'n in war ?
Chief of the mournful tale, I pray, declare.
The thunder rolls along the lofty ground.
And lightning flies on wings of fire around. 80
Yet these Coniala do not terrify ;
Fingal is fall'n ! — and she would gladly die.
Chief of the mournful tale, I pray thee tell.
If the shield-breaker in the battle fell ?
HIDALLAN.
The nations now are scatter'd on the plain, 85
. And never shall they hear tiie chief again.