Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal

120 carthon:
" But thou flialt not die unknown," replied the king of
woody Morven : " my bards are many, O Carthon, and
their longs defcend to future times. The children of the
years to come iliall hear the fame of Carthon ; when they
fit round the burning oak*, and the night is fpent in the
fongs of old. The hunter, fitting in the heath, fliall hear
the rullling blafi: ; and, raifing his eyes, behold the rock
where Carthon fell. He fliall turn to his fon, and fiiew
the place where the mighty fought ; There the king (f
Bakhitha fought, like thejlrengtb of a thou f and Jlr earns .'''
Joy rofe in Carthon's face : he hfted his heavy eyes.
He gave his fword to Fingci, to lie within his hall, that
the memory of Balclutha's king might remain on Morven.
The battle ceafed along the field, for the bard had fung
the fong of peace. The chiefs gathered round the falling
Carthon, and heard his words, with fighs. Silent they
leaned on their fpears, while Balclutha's hero fpoke. His
hair fighed in the wind, and his words were feeble.
" King of Morven," Carthon faid, " 1 fall in the midft
of my courfe. A foreign tomb receives, in youth, the
lafl of Reuthamir's race. Darknefs dwells in JBalclutha :
and the fliadows of grief in Crathmo. But raife my re-
membrance on the banks of Lora : where my fathers dwelt,
perhaps the hufband of Moina will mourn over his fallen
Carthon." His words reached the heart of Clefsammor :
he fell, in filence, on his fon. The hoif ilood darkened
around : no voice is on the plains of Lora. Night came,
and the moon, from the call, looked on the mournful
field : but ftill they flood, like a filent grove that lifts its
head on Gormal, when the loud winds are laid, and dark
autumn is on the plain.
Three days they mourned over Carthon ; on the fourth
his father died. In the narrow plain of the rock they he;
and a dim ghoil defends their tomb. There lovely Moina
is often feen ; when the fun-beam darts on the rock, and
all around is dark. There fiie is feen, Malvina, but not
hke the daughters of the hill. Her robes are from the
ftrangers land ; and fiie is ftill alone.
I Fingal
• In the north of Scotland, till very lately, they bLirnt a large trunk of an oak
at their feilivals; it was called the trunk of the feajl. Time had lo rr.iicb coiile-
crated the cuftom, that the vulgar thought it a kind of facrilege to diluie it.