Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

BEURATHON. 503
may tell it, bard ! but his people shall fall with
fame !*
I stood in the darkness of my strength. Tos-
car drew his sword at my side. The foe came
on like a stream. The mingled sound of death
arose. Man took man ; shield met shield : steel
mixed its beams with steel. Darts hiss through
air. Spears ring on mails. Swords on broken
bucklers bound. As the noise of an aged grove
beneath the roaringwind, when a thousand ghosts
break the trees by night, such was the din of
arms ! But Uthal fell beneath my sword. The
sons of Berrathon fled. It was then I saw him
in his beauty, and the tear hung in my eye!
' Thou art fallen, young tree,' I said, ' with all
thy beauty round thee. Thou art fallen on thy
plains, and the field is bare. The winds ccme
from the desert ! there is no sound in thy leaves !
Lovely art thou in death, son of car-borne Larth-
mor.'
Nina-thoma sat on the shore. She heard the
sound of battle. She turned her red eyes on
Lethmal, the gray-haired bard of Selma. He
alone had remained on the coast, with the daugh-
ter of Tor-thoma. ' Son of the times of old !'
she said, * I hear the noise of death. Thy friends
have met vvith Uthal, and the chief is low ! O
that I had remained on the rock, inclosed with
the tumbling waves ? Then would my soul
be sad, but his death would not reach my
ear. Art thou fallen on the heath, O son of
high Fin-thormo ? Thou didst leave me on a rock,
but my soul was full of thee. Son of high Fin-
thormo ? art thou fallen on thy heath ?'
She rose pale in her tears. She saw the bloody
shield of Uthal. She saw it in Ossian's hand.
Her steps were distracted on the heath. She
flew. She found him. She fell. Her soul came
forth in a sigh. Her hair is spread on her face.