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

<54 TEMORA
BOOK V.
place, O harp, and let me hear thy voice. Son of
Alpin, ftrike the ftring •, thou muft awake the foul
of the bard. The murmur of Lora's ^ ftream has
rolled the tale avvay. I ftand in the cloud of years;
few are its openings towards the paft, and when
the vifion comes it is but dim and dark. I hear,
thee, harp of Cona ; my foul returns, like a breeze
which the fun brings back to the vale, where dwelt
tie lazy mifJ:.
Lubar ^ is bright before me, in the windings of
its vale. On either fide, on their hills, rife the
tall forms of the kings ; their people are poured
around them, bending forward to their words j as
if their fathers fpoke, defcending from their winds.
But the kings were like two rocks in the midflr,
each with its dark head of pines, whea they are
feen in the defart, above low-failing mift. High
on their face aire flreams, which fpread their foam
on blafts.
Beneath the voice of Cathmor poured Erin, like
the found of flame. Wide they came down to Lu-
bar ; before them is the ftride of Foldath. But
Cathmor retired to his hill, beneath his bending
oaks. The tumbling of a ftream is near the king :
he lifts, at times, his gleaming fpear. It was a
flame to his people, in the midft of war. Near
him ftood the daughter of Con-mor, leaning on
her