Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 3

13S THE DEATH OF CUTHULLIN :
thousands, Cuthullin," said the chief of Lego.-
" I know the strength of thy arm. Tiiy soul is
an unextinguished fire. Why fight we not on the
plain, and let our hosts behold our deeds ? Let
them behold us like roaring waves, that tumble
round a rock : the mariners hasten away, and
look on their strife with fear."
" Thou risest, like the sun, on my soul," re-
plied the son of Semo. " Thine arm is mighty,
O Torlath ! and worthy of my wrath. Retire,
ye men of Ulliii, to Slimora's shady side. Be-
hold the chief of Erin, in the day of his fame.
. Carril ! tell to mighty Connal, if Cuthullin must
fall, tell iiim 1 accused the winds, which roar on
Togorma's waves. Never was he absent in bat-
tle, when the strife of my fame arose. Let his
sword be before Corniac; like the beam of hea-
ven. Let his counsel sound in Temora, in the
day of danger ! "
He rushed, in the sound of his arms, like the
terrible spirit of Loda *, when he comes, in the
* Loda, in the third book of Fingal, is iiieiUioned as
a place of worship in Scandinavia : by the spirit of
Loda, the poet probably means Odin, the great deity of
tlie northern nations. He is described here with all his
u rroi's.