Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

KING A L. 333
like the sun in a storm, to lighten, to restore the
isle !
Morning is gray on Cronila. The sons of the
sea ascend. Calmar stood forth to meet them
in the pride of his kindling soul. But pale was
the face of the chief. He leaned on his father's
spear. That spear which he brought from Lara,
when the soul of his mother was sad ; the soul of
the lonely Alcletha, waning in the sorrow of
years. But slowly now the hero falls, like a tree
on the plain. Dark Cuthullin stands alone like
a rock in a sandy vale. The sea comes with its
waves, and roars on its hardened sides. Its
head is covered with foam ; the hills are echoing
round.
Now from the gray mist of the ocean the
white-sailed ships of Fingai appear. High is the
grove of their masts, as they nod, by turns, on
the rolling wave. Swaran saw them from the
hill. He returned from the sons of Erin. As
ebbs the resounding sea, through the hundred
isics, of Inistore ; so loud, so vast, so immense,
returned the sons of Lochlin against the king.
But bending, weeping, sad, and slow, and drag-
ging liis long spear behind, Cuthullin sunk in
Cromla's wood, and mourned his fallen friends.
He feared the face of Fingai, v.ho was wont to
greet him from the fields of renown !
' How many lie there of my heroes ! the chiefs
of Erin's race ! they that were cheerful in the
hall, when the sound of the shells arose ! No
more shall I find their steps in the heath ! No
more shall 1 hear their voice in the chase. Pale,
silent, low on bloody beds, are they who were my
friends ! O spirits of the lately dead, meet Cu-
thullin on his heath ! Speak to him on the winds,
when the rustling tree of Tura's cave resounds.
There, far remote, I shall lie unknouTi. No bard
shall hear of me. No gray stone shall rise to