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

BOOK IV. AN EPIC POEM. 6i
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ven, whofe fteps come forth on his feas, when he
beholds them peaceful round, and all the winds
are laid. But foon he awakes the waves, and rolls
them large to fome echoing coaft.
On the rufhy bank of a ftream, flept the daugh-
ter of Inis-huna. The helmet had fallen from her
head. Her dreams were in the lands of her fathers.
There morning was on the field : gray flreams
leapt down from the rocks ; the breezes, in fha-
dowy waves, fly over the rufhy fields. There is
the found that prepares for the chafe ; and the mo-
ving of warriors from the hall. But tall above the
reft is the hero of flreamy Atha : he bends his eye
of love on Sul-malla, from his ftately fteps. She
turns, with pride, her face away, and carelefs bends
the bow.
Such were the dreams of the maid when Atha's
warrior came. He faw her fair face before him, in
the midft of her wandering locks. He knew the
maid of Lumon. What fliould Cathmor do ? His
figh arofe : his tears came down. But ftraight he
turned away. " This is no time, king of Atha, to
wake thy fecret foul. The battle is rolled before
thee, like a troubled ftream."
He ftruck that warning bofs % wherein dwelt
the voice of war. Erin rofe around him like the
found of eagle-wings. Sul-malla ftarted from fleep,
in