Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 3

A POEM. 35f
season. Our departure was in renown. Though
the plains of our battles are dark and silent ; our
tame is in the four grey stones. The voice of Os-
sian has been heard. The harp has been strung in
Selma. * Come, Ossian, come away/ he says,
' come, fly with thy fathers on clouds.' I come,
I ccme, tliou king of men ! The life of Ohsian
fails. I begin to vanish on Cona. My steps are
not seen in Selma. Beside the stone of Mora I shall
fall asleep. The winds whistling in my grey hair,
shall not awaken me. Depart on thy wings, O
wind ! thou canst not disturb the rest of the bard.
The night is long, but his eyes are heavy. Depart,
thou rustling blast."
" But why art thou sad, son of Fingal ? Whj
grows the cloud of thy soul ? The chiefs of other
times are departed. They have gone without their
fame. The sons of future years shall pass away^
Another race shall arise. The people arc like the
waves of ocean : like the leaves of woody Morven,
they pass away in the rustling blast, and other
leaves lift their green heads on high."
" Did thy beauty last, O Ryno * ? Stood the
* Ryno, the son of Fingal, wlio was killed in Ireland, ia
the war against Swaran, was leniarkablc lor the beauty of
his person, his swiftness, and great exploits. Minvane, the
daughter of ]\Iorni, and sister to Gaul, was in love with
jiyno. Her lamentation over her lover follows :
<1