Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 3

34 FINGAL
ami spoke to tlie king of swords. " Son * of line
chief of generous slceds ! liigh-bounding king of
spears. Strong arm in every perilous toil. Hard
heart that never yields. Ciiief of the pointed
arms of death. Cut down the foe ; let no white
sail bound round dark Inistore. Be thine arm
like thunder, thine eyes like lire, thy heart of
solid rock. Whirl round thy sword as a meteor
at night ; lift thy shield like the flame of death.
Son of the chief of generous steeds, tut down the
foe. Destroy!" The hero's heart beat high.
But Swarau came with battle. He clelt the
shield of Gaul in twain. The sons of Selma fled.
Fingal at once arose in arms. Thrice he rear-
ed his dreadful voice. Cromla answered around.
The sons of the desert stood still. They bent
their blushing faces to the earth, ashamed at the
presence of the king. He came, like a cloud of
rain in the day of the sun, when slow it rolls on
the hill, and fields expect th€ shower. Silence
* The custom of encouraging men in battle with ex-
tempore rh^'mes, lias been carried down almost to our
own times. Several of these war songs are extant, but
tlie most of them are only a group of epithets, without
cither beauty or harmony, utterly destitute of poetical
HicrJt.