Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

278 THE POEMS or OSSIAN.
Caros fled ; Oscar remained like a rock left by
the ebbing sea. JSow dark and deep, with all
his steeds, Caros rolled his might along : the
little streams are lost in his course : the earth is
rocking round. Battle spreads from wing to
wing ; ten thousand swords gleam at once in the
sky. But why should Ossian sing ol battles ?
For never more shall my steel shine in war. I
remember the days of my youth with grief, when
I feel the weakness of my arm. Happy are they
who fell in their youth, in the midst of their re-
nown ! They have not beheld the tombs of their
friends, or failed to bend the bow of their strength.
Happy art thou, O Oscar, in the midst of thy
rushing blast. Thou often goest to the fields
of thy fame, where Caros fled from thy lifted
sword.
Darkness comes on my soul, O fair daughter
of Toscar ! I behold not the form of my son
at Carun, nor the figure of Oscar on Crona. The
rustling winds have carried him far away, and the
heart of his father is sad. But lead me, O Malvina !
to the sound of my woods, to the roar of my
mountain streams. Let the chase be heard on
Cona : let me think on the days of other years.
And bring me the harp, O maid ! that I may
touch it when the light of my soul shali arise.
Be thou near to learn the song ; future times shall
hear of me ! The sons of the feeble hereafter
will lift the voice of Cona ; and looking up to
the rocks, say, * Here Ossian dwelt.' They shall
admire the chiefs of old, the race that are no
more, while we ride on our clouds, Malvina !
on the wings of the roaring winds. Our voices
shall be heard at times in the desert ; we shall
6wg on the breeze of the rock.