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

t6o THE SONGS OF SELMA.
among women. When the ftorms of the moun-
tain come ; when the north lifts the waves on high ;
I lit by the founding fhore, and look on the fatal
fock. Often by the fetting moon I fee the ghofls
of my children. Half-viewlels, they walk in mourn-
ful conference together. Will none of yau fpeak
in pity ? They do not regard their father. I am
fad, O Carmor, nor fmall is my caufe of woe !
Such were the words of the bards in the days of
fong; when the king heard the mufic of harps,
and the tales of other times. The chiefs gathered
from all their hills, and heard the lovely found.
They praifed the voice ' of Cona ! the iirft among
a thoufand bards. But age is now on my tongue ;
and my foul has failed. I hear, fometimes, the
ghofts of bards, and learn their pleafant fong. But
memory fails in my mind ; I hear the call of years.
They fay, as they pafs along, why does Offian fing ?
Soon fhall he lie in the narrow houfe, and no bard
fhall raife his fame. Roll on, ye dark-brown years,
for you bring no joy on your courfe. Let the tomb
open to Oflian, for his ftrength has failed. The )
fons of fong are gone to reft : my voice remains,
^ke a blaft, that roars, lonely, on a fea-furround-
cd rock, after the winds are laid. The dark mof& i
whiftles there, ^nd the diflant mariner fees the ■
waving trees.
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