Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

BookVIIL] TEMORA. 190
* Searching the bed, where rests the dark-brovvn roe,
* He strides not forth to war ; but with the night
* His happy spouse expects his sure return : —
* And back as:;ain he, whisthng, soon will come, 370
* Rough with the phuider of the dark-brown hinds.'
Attentive, to the hill her eyes are turn'd :
Again she saw the stately form descend.
Joyful she rose — ^but he retir'd in mist.
His limbs of vapour vanish by degrees, 375
And viewless mix in mass with mountain-wind. — .
'Twas then she knew that her lov'd hero fell !
* O king of Erin, art thou low !' she cry'd —
But her lorn grief let Ossian now forget —
Knawing it wastes the fading soul of age. 380
Down on Moi-lena, with its dusky shade,
Then evening came. The streamlets of the land
Gray roU'd. Fingal's loud voice came on the breeze.
The beam of oaks arose. The people 'rounfl
Gather'd with gladness, gladness mix'd with shades. 3>5
Perceptive of his yet unfinish'd joy.
They side-long looked to the royal chief:
For, from the desert-way, with grateful sound
The voice of music came. It seem'd, at first,
A noisy stream far distant on its rocks. — 390
Slow, like the ruffled pinion of a breeze
In the still time of night, when from the rocks
The tufted beard it takes; it roll'd along the hill,
'Twas the sweet melody of Condan's voice.
In concert mixt with Carril's trembling lyre. 595
To echoing Mora of the chrystal streams.
The bards with blue-ey'd Ferad-artho came.
At once, melodious from our tuneful bards
Then burst the song, on Lena. 'Midst the sound