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

226 OINA-MORUL :
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I come not, I faid, to look, like a boy, on the
ftrife. Fingal remembers Mal-orchol, and his hall
for ftrangers. From his waves, the warrior de-
fcended, oil thy woody ifle. Thou wert no cloud
before him. Thy feaft was fpread with fongs.
For this my fword fhall rife ; and thy foes perhaps
may fail. Our friends are not forgot in their dan-
ger, though diftant is our land.
Son of the daring Trenmor, thy words are like
the voice of Cruth-loda, when he fpeaks, from his
parting cloud, ftrong dweller of the flcy ! Many
have rejoiced at my feaft ; but they all have for-
got Mal-orchol. I have looked towards all thf
winds, but no white fails were feen. But fteel '^ re-
founds in my hall ; and not the joyful fhells
Come to my dwelling, race of heroes 5 dark-fkirt
cd night is near. Hear the voice of fongs, froni
the maid of Fuarfed wild.
We went. On the harp arofe the white hand
of Olna-morul. She waked her own fad talei
from every trembling ftring. I ftood in lilence
for bright in her locks was the daughter of man
ifles. Her eyes were like two ftars, looking foi
ward through a rufhing. fliower. The marim
marks them on high, and bleffes the lovely beam
With morning we rulhed to battle, to Tormul
t-efounding ftream : the foe moved to the fourj