Ossian Collection > Galic antiquities

T R A T H A L
blue dreams, are glad. The trees lift their green growing heads
through the fhower to meet thee; and all the bards of the grove
falute, with their morning-fong, thy coming. — But whither does
the night fly, on its dark eagle-wing, when it fees thy face ;
and where is the place of darknefs? Whither do the ftars re-
tire from thy prefence, and where is die cave in which they
hide their trembling beauty ? Into what defart doft thou chafe
them, when thou climbed the mountains of heaven, and pur-
fueft them, like a mighty hunter, through the blue fields of the
fky? — Son of heaven, the fteps of thy courfe are lovely, when
thou travelled above, in thy brightnefs, and fcattereft from thy
face the florins. The departure of thy yellow hair is lovely, when
thou finkeft in the weftern wave - t and lovely is the hope of thy
coming. In the mifls of night thou never lofefl thy courfe ; and
tempefts, in the troubled deep, in vain oppofe thee. At the call of
the morning thou art always ready, and the light of thy return
is
'S ait ceime do minis air aTi aonach,
'S gach caochan gorm 's aghleann ri gaire.
Tha croinn uaine, ro dhriucbd nam fras,
Ag ciridh gu bras ad cho'ail ;
'S filidh bhinn nan coillie fas
A' cuir failt ort le 'n oran roaidnc
Ach c'ait a bheil ciar-im'eachd na ha oiche
(Rod' ghnuis) air fgiathan an fhirein ?
C'ait' a bheil aig duibhre a co'nuidh,
'S uaimh chofach nan reulta foillfc,
Tra leanas tu'n ceime gu luath,
Mar (hcalgair gan ruaig 's na fpeuran ;
Thus a' dire' nan aonach ard,
*S iads' air faoin-bheannta fas a leimnich ?
'S aoibhin do (hinbhal a fbolluis aigh,
A fgaoileas le d' dhearfa gach donionn,
'S is maifeach do chleachdan oir
A'Inamh fiar's do dhoigh ri pille'.
Le feachran ami dalla-cheo na h oi'che,
Cha ghlacar ihu choidh' aim ad chuifa ;
'S doinionn nan cuantagabhaidh
Cha feid gil brath ai t iul thu.
Le gairm na ciuin-mhadain bidh t eifidh,
'S do ghnuis fheilidh a'dufga' gean ;
A' fogra' na h oich o gach ait'
Ach fuil a bhaird nach faic do fliollus.
Ach amhuilfo aos-lialag
Bidh tufa fathafd a' d' aonar ;
Do fhiubhal 'sna fpeuran mall
'S tu dall mar mis'air an aonach.
Doilleir mar ghealach nan tra,
Bidh t anra 's tu liubhal nan fpeur ;
Caifeamachd na maidne cha chluinn thu r
Mar na fuinn gun luadh ri eiridh.
An fcalgair feallaidh fo'n raon
Ach chon fhaic e t aogas a' t't'ean ;
liruchdai' a dheoir, 's o pille' fu fmalan,
" A mhadai' mo ghraidli ! threig a ghiian fin.
— Bidh aibhneas ami fill air folluis na hoi'che,.
Tn bhios Mac na foillfc mar Thra'ul.,