Ossian Collection > Original collection of the poems of Ossian, Orrann, Ulin, and other bards, who flourished in the same age

A HEROIC POEM. 175-
I fell in the beginning of the conflict, and my
fame will not rise in the song; but it is by the
sword of the hero I fell, and my valour shall be-
come renowned by his fame; it was the sword of
the king of Innis-torc, that wounded in the kid-
neys the mighty hero. Happy * be thy soul, O
bard, let me hear thy loud voice on high, and let
me ride on thy storm, clothed with the grey mist
of the forest. Yonder flat stone at the green mo-
rass, raise up at my head. Let it be carried over
the sloping feeble rivulets, in which the aged shall
sing when he shall not find it there.
Maid of Sora, my love, though in this field fell
thy chosen lover, let thy tears fall in streams;
martial eye of the hot battles, my spear hang up
in thy hall, the spear of my love, though it wound-
ed me, upon which I sailed through the high bil-
lows of the ocean. When Ca-huil heard that
speech, sadness and sorrow sat heavy on his
mind: he fell upon the face of his son, for the
shield of his forefathers he knew. Alas! and
and alas, my beloved son, thou shalt wake no
more for ever! Alas! and alas, alas! my torment-
ing pain, pity it is that it is I who remains after
thee!
* Farewell to tliv souj.