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

fiooK ir. AN EPIC POKM. 33
the form. He ftretched his hahd in night ; and
ipoke the words of kings.
« Friend of the fpirit of heroes, do I meet thee
thus in fhadcs ? I have wiflied for thy ftately fteps
in Atha, in the days of feafts. Why fhould my
fpear now arife ? The fun muft behold us, Offian ;
when we bend, gleaming, in the ftrife. Future
warriors fhall mark the place : and, fhuddering,
think of other years. They fhall mark it, like
the haunt of ghofts, pleafant and dreadful to the
foul."
«' And fliall it be forgot," I faid, «• where we
meet in peace ? Is the remembrance of battles al-
ways pleafant to the foul .'' Do not we behold, with
joy, the place where our fathers feafted ? But our
eyes are full of tears, oh the field of their wars.
This ftone fliall rife, with all its mofs, and fpeak
to other years. Here Cathmor and Offian met ! the
•warriors met in pence ! When thbUj O ftonCj fhalt
fail : and Lubar's ftream roll quite away ! then
fhall the traveller cOme, and bend here, perhapS;.
in reft. When the darkened moon is rolled over
his head, our flvadowy forms may come, and, mix-
ing with his dreams, remind him of this place.
But why turnefl thou £0 dark away, ion of Borbar-
duthul ^ ?"
Vol. IL E *^ Naff