Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

242 The Poems of Ossian.
son^ ; when the king heard the music of harps, the
tides of other times ! The chiefs gathered from all
their hills, and heard the lovely sound. They
praised the voice of Cona ;* the first among a
thousand bards ! but age is now on my tongue ;
my soul has failed ! I hear, at times, the ghosts
of bards, and learn their pleasant song. But me-
Jnory fails on my mind. I hear the call of years !
they say, as they pass along, Why does Ossian sing ?
Soon shall he lie in the nan-ow house, and no bard
shall raise his fame ! Roll on, ye dark-brown
years ; ye bring no joy ou your course ! Let the
tomb open to Ossian, for his strength has failed.
The sons of song are gone to rest. My voice
remains, like a blast, that roars, lonely, on a
sea-surrounded rock, after the winds are laid. The
dark moss whistles there ; the distant mariner sees
the wavmg trees !
• Ossian is sorr.etimcB f oetically called ' the voice of Coiva.'