Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal

apa temora: an epic poem, BookVIII,
" Sons of Morven, fpread the feafi: ; fend the night a-
way on fong. Ye have llione around me, and the dark
ilorm is paft. My people are the windy rocks, from which
I fpread my eagle wings, whea I rufli forth to renown,
and feize it on its field. Offian, thou haft the fpear of
Fingal : it is not the ftaff of a boy with which he ilrews
the thiftle round, young wanderer of the field. No : it is
the lance of the mighty, W'ith which they firetched forth
their hands to death. Look to thy fathers, my fon ; they
are awful beams. With morning lead Ferad-artho forth
to the echoing halls of Temora. Remind him of the
kings of Erin : the ftately forms of old. Let not the fal-
len be forgot, they were mighty in the field. Let Carril
pour his fong, t^iat the kings may rejoice in their raift.
To-morrow I fpread my fails to Selma's fliaded walls ;
where itreamy Duthula winds through the feats of roes."
CATHLIN
'A