Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

A20 THE roE-MS OF OSSIAX.
iiis absence, thinking of the flame of his beams.
Ullin, my aged bardl take thou the ship of the
king. Carry Oscar to Selma of harps. Let the
daughters of Morven weep. We must fight in
Erin, for the race of fallen Cormac. The days
of my years begin to fail. 1 feel the weakness
of my arm. My fathers bend from their clouds,
to receive their gray- haired son. But before I
go hence, one beam of fame shall rise. My days
shall end, as my years begun, in fame. My life
shall l)e one stream of light to bards of other
times !'
Ullin raised his white sails. The wind of the
south came forth. He bounded on the waves
towards Selma. I remained in my grief, but
my words were not lieard. The feast is spread
on Moi-lena. A hundred heroes reared the
tomb of Cairbar. No song is raised over thp
chief. His soul lias been dark and bloody. The
bards remembered the fall of Cormuc I what
could they say in Cairbar's praise ?
Night came rolling down. The light of h
hundred o-iks arose. Fingal sat beneath a tree.
Old Althan stood in the midst. He told the
tale of fallen Cormac. Althan the son of Con-
achar, the friend of car-borne Cuthullin. He
dwelt with Cormac in windy Temora, when
Semo's son fell at Lego's stream. The tale of
Althan was mournful. The tear was in his eye
when he spoke.
' The setting sun was yellow on Dora. Gray
evening began to descend. Temora's woods
shook with the blast of the inconstant wind. A
cloud gathered in the west. A red star looked
from behind its edge. I stood in the wood alone.
1 saw a ghost on the darkening air ! His stride
extended from hiil to hill. His shield was dim
on his side It was the son of Scmo. 1 knew
the warrior's face. But he passed away in his