Ossian Collection > Galic antiquities

A P O E M. 64*
ra's king may have pity. Or, thy father perhaps may find
thee. But ah ! my child, thy father I fear is not. On that
cloud his fpirit waits for mine. — Stay, Cathula ; thy love is co-
ming.
A higher furge comes, white-tumbling, over the rock. In its
cold bofom it folds Rofgala. " Farewel, O my Conloch !"
Too late, Cathula comes in the boat of Sora. He looks for the
rock : but no rock, dark-rifing above the wave, is feen. — " The
growing fea hath covered its oozy top ! No Rofgala ; no Conloch
is here ! O that the fame wave had inclofed Cathula ! Then, Rof-
gala, would we fmile in death ; Conloch we would clafp in our
arms ; his tender frame fhould not be hurt by rocks. — Shall Ca-
thula die or live ?"
The light, half-mixt with darknefs, breaks on Sora's hills. A
fmall ifle is near. A watery cave is under its rock ; and over its
mouth there bends, in its own gray coat of mofs, an aged oak.
Five generations faw the ocean fhrink and grow fince this oak had
given the king of Sora fhelter. In the cave below it he once hid his
fpoufe, as he moved to war. * To-morrow,' he faid, * I return,
and bring the head of Lanfxdda.' He went ; the fpear of Lanfad-
da travelled through his fide, and forbade to fulfil his promife.
Two days, with their nights, returned. But no word of thy re-
turn, red-haired Ulan-orchul. Oi-dana is fad in her cave. Her
dark hair wanders on winds ; and her white hands beat, like foamy
waves, her breaft. — Mournful through night is her voice of grief.
The mariner hears it as he paffes by. He turns to fee if it may be
the mufic of a fpirit of the deep. And thus was difcovered the
H h fe-