Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal

A P O E W. 105
hear his voice, loud and diflant on the wind? Come from
thy echoing hills, hunter of woody Cona 1"
His thin ghoft appeared, on a rock, like the watry beam
of the moon, when it ruihes from between two clouds,
and the midnight fhower is on the field. She followed
the empty form over the heath, for flie knew that her
hero fell. I heard her approaching cries on the wind,
like the mournful voice of the breeze, when it fighs on
the grafs of the cave.
She came, fhe found her hero : her voice was heard no
more : filent ilie rolled her fad eyes ; flie was pale as a
watry cloud, that rifes from the lake, to the beam of the
moon. Few were her days on Cona : flie funk into the
tomb : Fingal commanded his bards; and they fung over
the death of Lorma. The daughters of Morven mourn-
ed her for one day in the year, when the dark winds of
autumn returned.
Son of the diitant land* thou dwelled in the field of
fame : O let thy fong rife, at times, in the praife of thofe
that fell : that their thin ghoils may rejoice around thee ;
and the foul of Lorma come on a moon-beam f, when
thou lieft down to reft, and the moon looks into thy cave.
Then ilialt thou fee her lovely ; but the tear is ftill on her
cheek.
O CONLATIi
• The poet addreffes himfelf to the Culdee.
f Be liioa on a moon-beam, O Morna, near the window of my reft; -when my
thoughts are of peace; and the din of arms is over, Fingal, B. I.