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

A POEM. 187
js feen, white as foamy waves that rife, by turns,
amidfi: x-ocks. They are beautiful, but they are
terrible, and mariners call the winds.
Come, ye dwellers of Loda ! Carchar, pale in
the midlt of clouds ! Sluthmor, that flrideft in airy
halls ! Corchtur, terrible in winds ! Receive from
his daughters fpear, the foes of Suran-dronlo.
No lliadow, at his roaring ftreams j no mildly-
looking form was he ! When he took up his fpear^,
the hawks fiiook their founding wings : fcr blooc^
was poured around the fteps of dark-eyed Suran-
dronlo.
He lighted me, no harmlefs beam, to glitter on
his ftreams. Like meteors, I was bi-ight, but I biaft-
ed the foes of Suran-dronlo * *******
Nor unconcerned heard Sul-malla, the praile of
Cathmor of fhields. He was within her foul, like
a fire in fecret heath, which awakes at the voice of
the blafb, and fends its beam abroad. Amidil the
fong removed the daughter of kings, like the fofp
found of a fummer breeze ; when it lifts the heads
of flowers, and curls the lakes and ftreams.
By night came a dream to Offian ; without form
ftood the fhadow of Trenmor. He leemed to
ftrike the dim fiiield, on Selma's ftreamy rock. I
rofe, in my rattling fteel ; I knew that war was
A a 2 near.