Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

m T E M O R A. [Book I,
* And art thou, Oscar, fall'n amidst thy course !
' O'er thee the hosom of the aged heats !
* He sees thy coming wars — .the wars that ought
* E'er long to come he sees ! But from thy fame 30C
* Off they are cut. When shall returning joy
* With smiles at Selma dwell ? From Morven when
* Shall grief depart ? My sons fall by degrees—
' Fingal shall be survivant of his race.
* The fame, which crown'd my former deeds in war, SOS
* Shall vanish, and of friendship orphanis'd
* My hoary age will pass within my hall ;
* Whilst lone I sit like a grey cloud, nor hear
* A son returning girt in sounding arms J
* Heroes of Morven ! weep — shed tears of grief ! Sl(
* For, never more shall once-brave Oscar rise !'
And they did weep, Fingal ! Dear to their souls
The hero was. Forth he to battle went
And vanquished the foes : — then, back in peace
Amidst their joy he came. No weeping sire 3U
His fav'rite son in youth's meridian day
In battle slain bewail'd : nor, in deep grief
Did brother mourn the brother of his love.
Tearless they fell — for, low the people's chief
Was laid — and Bran is howling at his feet. S2(
In sadness also gloomy Luath stood ;
For, he had often led them to the chase,
W^here, in the desert, leap'd the bounding roo.
When Oscar saw his friends around, his breast
With turgid sighs arose : ' The groans,' he said, 32'
' Of arjed chiefs — the howling of my dogs —
* 'J'iie sudden bursts of mournful songs of grief
* Have melted Oscar's soul — my soul, that ne'er
* Was known to melt before — steel'd as my sword.