Ossian Collection > Galic antiquities

342 C A T H L A V A:
nance returns. He ftrikes his fhield. His heroes are around him,
a thick cloud, the gathering of the temped on Dura.
As the fpirit of night moves, with the collected blaft of heaven
in his courfe, when he prepares to pour his force on the groves of
Ardven ; when oaks hear its found at a diftance, and, trembling
for its approach, already fhake their leaves : So rufhed Ronnan to
the battle on the head of heroes. — Nor lefs terrible is the courfe of
Lava. The found of his people is like thunder in clouds, when
Lara's fields are difmal. A thoufand helmets nod on high; like a
grove in flames is the blaze of fpears.
But who {hall tell the rage of battle ? Thou haft feen, fon of
Arar, two black rocks rolling from oppofite hills to meet in the
valley below ; a cloud of fmoke rifes behind, and follows the
tract of each : fuch was the terrible onfet of the people. Swords
claih, and fhields refound : heads and helmets fall : the dead are
mixed with the dying : blood runs in a thoufand ftreams, and the
fpirits of fallen heroes afcend on its thin airy fmoke. See ! to the
edge of every cloud they cling, as clings the bur to the eagle's wing
when flie leaves the valley of dun roes, and flies to Moma's cloudy
top.
But what eagles are thefe two, that ftill contend with ruftling
wings on the heath ? No gray kid, no red-crefted cock is the prey
for which they ft rive, as from fide to fide they bound, and pour
death in ftreams from their fteel. — See ! one ftoops on his knee.
His Afield fupports the half-fallen chief, as the rock fupports the
pine, which the ftorm has half-overturned on Dunora. — Yield thy
fpear, faid Ronnan ; reftore my beloved Sulmina. I feek not the
death of my foes, when they lie before me on earth.
Yield