Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 3

26 ' fingal:
to Lego's sable surge. Twelve of my people were
there, the sons of streamy Morven ! We came
to Branno, friend of strangers ! Branno of the
sounding mail ! " From whence," he said, "are
the arms of steel ? Not easy to win is the maid,
who has denied the blue-eyed sons of Erin ! But
blest be thou, O son of Fingal ! Happy is the
maid that waits thee ! Though twelve daughters
of beauty were mine, thine were the choice, thou
son of fame I "
lie opened the hall of the maid, the dark-hair-
ed Evei'allin. Joy kindled in our manly breasts.
We blest the maid of Branno. Above us, on
the hill, appeared the people of stately Cormac.
Eight were the heroes of the chief. The heath
flamed wide with their arms. There Colla; there
Durra of wounds ; there mighty Toscar, and Ta-
go ; there Frestal the victorious stood ; Dairo of
the happy deeds ; Dala, the battle's bulwark in
the narrow way ! The sword flamed in the hand
of Cormac. Gracei'ul was the look of the hero !
Eight were the heroes of Ossian. Ullin, stormy
son of war. MuUo of the generous deeds. The
noble, the graceful Scclacha. Oglan, and Cer-
dal the wrathlul. Dumariccan's brows of death !