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BOOK IV. AN EPIC POEM. $9
had heard the fong of Carril'' . A blaft fuftained
his dark-fkirted cloud ; which he feized in the bo-
fom of night, as he rofe, with his fame, towards
-his airy hall. Half-mixed with the noife of the
ftream, he poured his feeble words.
*< Joy meet the foul of Cathmor : his voice was
heard on "Moi-lena. The bard gave his fong to
Cairbar : he travels on the v/ind. My form is in
my father's hall, like the gliding of a terrible light,
which winds through the defart, in a liormy night.
No bard fhall be wanting at thy tomb, when thou
art lowly laid. The fons of fong love the valiant.
Cathmor, thy name is a pleafant gale. The
mournful founds arife ! On Lubar's field there
is a voice ! Louder ftill ye fhadowy ghofts ! the
dead were full of fame. Shrilly fwells the
/eeble found. The rougher blaft alone is heard !
Ah ! foon is Cathmor low !" Rolled into hirh-
felf he flew, wide on the bofom of his blaft.
The old oak felt his departure, and fhook its
whiftling head. The king ftarted from reft, and
took his deathful fpear. He lifts his eyes vound.
He fees but dark-lkirted night.
" It ' was the voice of the king ; but now his
form is gone. Unmarked is your path in the air,
ye children of the night. Often, like a refledted
H 2 beam*
had heard the fong of Carril'' . A blaft fuftained
his dark-fkirted cloud ; which he feized in the bo-
fom of night, as he rofe, with his fame, towards
-his airy hall. Half-mixed with the noife of the
ftream, he poured his feeble words.
*< Joy meet the foul of Cathmor : his voice was
heard on "Moi-lena. The bard gave his fong to
Cairbar : he travels on the v/ind. My form is in
my father's hall, like the gliding of a terrible light,
which winds through the defart, in a liormy night.
No bard fhall be wanting at thy tomb, when thou
art lowly laid. The fons of fong love the valiant.
Cathmor, thy name is a pleafant gale. The
mournful founds arife ! On Lubar's field there
is a voice ! Louder ftill ye fhadowy ghofts ! the
dead were full of fame. Shrilly fwells the
/eeble found. The rougher blaft alone is heard !
Ah ! foon is Cathmor low !" Rolled into hirh-
felf he flew, wide on the bofom of his blaft.
The old oak felt his departure, and fhook its
whiftling head. The king ftarted from reft, and
took his deathful fpear. He lifts his eyes vound.
He fees but dark-lkirted night.
" It ' was the voice of the king ; but now his
form is gone. Unmarked is your path in the air,
ye children of the night. Often, like a refledted
H 2 beam*
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| Early Gaelic Book Collections > Ossian Collection > Morison's edition of the Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal > (433) |
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| Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/77721115 |
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| Description | "Translated by James Macpherson ... carefully corrected, and greatly improved. With a set of elegant engravings, from original drawings, by Stothard and Allan". Edited by Hugh Blair. |
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| Shelfmark | Oss.35 |
| Additional NLS resources: | |
| Attribution and copyright: |
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More information
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| Description | Selected books from the Ossian Collection of 327 volumes, originally assembled by J. Norman Methven of Perth. Different editions and translations of James MacPherson's epic poem 'Ossian', some with a map of the 'Kingdom of Connor'. Also secondary material relating to Ossianic poetry and the Ossian controversy. |
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| Description | Selected items from five 'Special and Named Printed Collections'. Includes books in Gaelic and other Celtic languages, works about the Gaels, their languages, literature, culture and history. |
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