Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 3

17^ TEMORA :
arise, like crowded streams, ISIoi-lena echoes wide.
Fingal heard the sound. lie took the spear of Sel-
ma. His steps are before tis on the health. He
spoke the words of woe. " I hear the noise of war.
Yc:iing Oscar is alone. Rise, sons of Morven : join
the hero's sword \"
Ossian rushed along the heatli. Fillan bounded
over J\loi-lcna. Fingal strode in his strength. The
light of his shield is terrible. The sons of Erin saw
it far distant. They trembled in their souls. They
knew that the wrath of the king arose : and they
foresaw their death. We first arrived. We fought.
Erin's chiefs withstood our rage. But when the
king came, in the sound of his course, what heart
ofsteelcould stand ! Erin fled over Moi-lena. Death
pursued their flight. We saw Oscar on his shield.
We saw his blood around. Silence darkened every
face. Each turned his back and wept. The king
strove to hide his tears. His grey beard whistled
in the wind. He bends his head above the chief.
His words are mixed with sighs.
" Art thou fallen, O Oscar ! in the midst of thy
course ? the heart of the aged beats over thee ! He
sees thy coming wars ! The wars which ought to
come he sees ! They are cut oft' from thy fame !
When shall joy dwell at Selma ? When shall grief
tlepart from Morven ? My sons fall by degrees :
Fingal is the last of his race. JNIy fame begins to