Ossian Collection > Galic antiquities

200 DERMID:
At the foot of that ivy rock I faw, as I parted, his tomb. The
green fern had half-hid the gray flone at his head. I pulled its
rankjgrowth away : Why fhouldft thou, vile weed, I faid, obfcure
the fftne of the hero?
" A youth comes, whiffling, acrofs the plain. His arms glit-
ter to the fun as it fets. His beauty is like that finking beam, that
fpreads around him its rays ; and his flrength is like his beauty.
— The virgins are on the green hill above ; their robes are like the
bow of the mower ; their hair like the treffes of the fun, when
they float on the weflern wave in the feafon of calm. They ad-
mire the ftately beauty of the warrior, as lightly he moves along.
— ' The youth,' they fay with a ugh, ' is like Dermid.' — The
memory of the fon of Duino rifes on their foul, as a beam that
breaks on blafled Mora, through the torn edge of a dufky cloud.
In forrow they bend their heads. The tears fhine through their
fpreading locks, like flars through the wandering hair of the
moon. They fall like the tears of Oflian when they flow for Of-
car of Lego.
" The children of youth are tofling their little fpears. They
fee the hero on the plain. ' There comes Dermid !' Their reedy
fpear6 are thrown away, and they forfake the fhield of willow.
Their fteps of joy are quick to meet the maker of their bows. But
they fee it is not he, and in mid-way they flop. Slow, they re-
turn to their play ; but the noife of their harmlefs battle is not
heard, for their little fouls are fad for Dermid.
" The voice of mufic and the found of the harp are heard in
Fingal's hall. The benighted traveller is charmed as he ap-
proaches. A moment he leans his breaft upon his ftaff, and, flde-
long,