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

94 FINGAL
not fpeak to me in my grief, and tell when I Ihall
behold my friends ? But thou pafleft away in thy
murmuring bhft : and thy wind \vhiftles through
the gray hair of Ofllan.
Now on the fide of Mora the heroes gathered to
the feaft. A thoufand aged oaks are burning to
the wind. The ftrength ^ of the fliells goes round.
And the fouls of warriors brighten with joy. But
the king of Lochlin is lllent, and forrow reddens
in the eyes of his pride. He often turned toward
Lena and remembered that he fell.
Fingal leaned on the flaield of his father. His
gray locks ilovvly waved on the wind, and glittered
to the beam of night. He faw the grief of Swa-
ran, and fpoke to the firft of bards.
<« Raife, Ullin, raife the fong of peace, and
footh my foul after battle, that my ear may forget
the noife of arnis. And let a hundred harps be
near to gladden the king of Lochlin. He muft
depart from us with joy. None ever went fad
from Fingul. Ofcar ! the lightning of my fword is
againfl: the ftrong in battle •, but peaceful it lies by
my iide wlien warriors yield in war."
" rrenmor '^,'' faid tlie mouth of the fongs,
** lived in the days of other years. He bounded
over the waves of the north : companion of the
£lonn. The high rocks of the land cf Lochlin,
and