Ossian Collection > Galic antiquities

A POEM. 289
the bright blaze to the fame of her fon. Joy trembles in her
aged foul, and the tear of gladnefs grows upon her cheek. " The
fame of Ulan-forno," fhe fays, " fhall be a fun to my evening
fteps. A ftreak of light on the mountain fhall be the decay of
my years. The young fhall blefs the mother of Ulan-forno."
She flops to wipe the tear of joy from her dim fight. The fhield
emits a fainter found. The colour of its bofs is flained : the face
of the aged is pale with fear. — The gray dog howls without. Does
he mourn ; or does he fee the coming of Ulan-forno ? — The aged
bard goes out to fee. He refts at the door upon his fpear : his eye
travels through the blue land of night. He fees a ridge of clouds
failing, on the blafl, acrofs the fea. He knows the heroes of his
land have fallen. He bids their hall of air to open, and their fa-
thers bend to receive them. He fees Ulan-forno move before the
reft, a taller form. A ftar dim-twinkles through the dun eagle -
wing of his creft. Dark-wandering flreams mark his broken
fhield ; like the black ooze of the mountain-rock, which points the
coxirfe of the melted fnow. — The cloud varies its form. The bard
returns. His face is dark as the meteor at which he looked. His
harp is in his hand; but its voice is mournful. — " Hang it in its
place, O bard," the paffing form feems to fay ; " for in Morven
we have our fame."
Yes, rider of eddying winds, thou didfl receive thy fame in
Morven. The king himfelf was not filent in thy praife, when Sor-
glan, with the image of Iulorno in his foul, fhed over thee the
tear ; and the bards mixed thy name with the fong of Curach. — ■
Often do I flill remember thy name, when thou comeft on thy
northern blaft, to hover above the field of thy fame. The chil-
O o dren