Ossian Collection > Morison's edition of the Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal

€2 FING AL : book m
whence," he faid, " are the arms of fteel ? Not
eafy to win is the maid, that has denied the blue™
eyed Ions of Erin. But bleft be thou, O fon of
Fingal. Happy is the maid that waits thee. Tho*
twelve daughters of beauty were mine, thine were
the choice, thou Ton of fame !" Then he opened
the hall of the maid, the dark haired Everallin.
Joy kindled in our breafts of fteel and bleft the maid
of Branno.
Above us on the hill appeared the people of ftate-
ly Cormac. Eight were the heroes of the chief;
and the heath flamed with their arms. There
CoUa, Durra of the wounds, there mighty Tofcar
and Tago, there Freftal the vi£torious ftood ; Dairo
of the happy deeds, and Dala the battle's bulwark
in the narrow way. The fword flamed in the hand
of Cormac, and graceful was the look of the hero.
Eight were the heroes of Ofiian j Ullin ftormy
fon of war ; Mullo of the generous deeds ; the
noble, the graceful Scelacha ; Olgan, and Cerdal
the wrathful, and Dumariccan's brows of death.
And why fliould Ogar be the laft; {o wide renown-
ed on the hills of Ardven ?
Ogar met Dala the ftrong, face to face, on the
field of heroes. The battle of the chiefs was like
the wind on ocean's fojtmy waves. The dagger i»
remembered by Ogar j the weapon wJ^ich be loved ;