Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

CAaBIC-THURA. 231
brows were gathered into wrath. His eyes like
two caves in a rock. Bright rose their swords
on each side ; loud was the clang of their steel.
The daughter of Rinval was near ; Criniora
bright in the armour of man ; her yellow hair is
loose behind, her bow is in her hand. She fol-
lowed the youth to the war, Connal her much-
beloved. She drew the string on Dargo ; but,
erring, she pierced her Connal. He falls like an
oak on the plain ; like a rock from the shaggy
hill. What shall she do, hapless maid ! He
bleeds ; her Connal dies ! AH the night long she
cries, and all the day, ' O Connal, my love, and
my friend!' With grief the sad mourner dies!
Earth here incloses the loveliest pair on the hill.
The grass grows between the stones of the tomb:
I often sit in the mournful shade. The wind
sighs through the grass ; their memory rushes ou
my mind. Undisturbed you now sleep together;
in the tomb of the mountain you rest alone !
And soft be their rest, said Utha, hapless child-
ren of streamy Lotha ! I will remember them
vi'ith tears, and my secret song shall rise ; when
the wind i<s in the groves of Tora, when the
stream is roaring near. Then shall they come
on my soul, with all their lovely grief !
Three days feasted the kings : on the fourth
their white sails arose. The winds of the north
drove Fingal to Morven's woody land. But the
spirit of Loda sat in his cloud behind the ships
of Frothul. He hung forward with all his blasts,
and spread the white bosomed sails. The wounds
of his form were not forgotten ! he still feared
the hand of the king !