Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

THE WAR OF CAROS. 277
on his face, but again he looks forth from his
darkness on the green hills of Cona.
Oscar passed the night among his fathers :
gray morning met him on Carun's banks. A green
vale surrounded a tomb which arose in the times
of old. Little hills lift their heads at a distance,
and stretch their old trees to the wind. The
warriors of Caros sat there, for they had passed
the stream by night. They appeared like the
trunks of aged pines, to the pale light of the
morning. Oscar stood at the tomb, and raised
thrice his terrible voice. The rocking hills echo-
ed around ; the starting roes bounded away : and
the trembling ghosts of the dead fled, shrieking
on their clouds. So terrible was the voice of my
son, when he called his friends !
A thousand spears arose arovmd ; the people
of Caros rose. Why, daughter of Toscar, why
that tear? My son, though alone, is brave.
Oscar is like a beam of the sky; he turns around,
and the people fall. His hand is the arm of a
ghost, when he stretches it from a cloud ; the
rest of his thin form is unseen ; but the people
die in the vale ! My son beheld the approach
of the foe ; he stood in the silent darkness of his
strength. ' Am I alone,' said Oscar, ' in the midst
of a thousand foes ? Many a spear is there !
many a darkly-rolling eye : Shall I fly to Ard-
ven ? But did my fathers ever fly ? The mark
of their ann is in a thousand battles. Oscar too
shall be renowned : Come, ye dim ghosts of
my fathers, and behold my deeds in war ! I may
fall ; but I will be renowned like the race of the
echoing Morven.' He stood, growing in his place,
like a flood in a narrow vale ! The battle came,
but they fell : u.oody was the sword of Os-
car I
The noise reached his people at Crona ; they
came like a hundred streams. The warriors of