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

■'206 OINA-MOilUL.
It is the sacred voice of ages gone,
Recalling chiefs who mighty deeds have done;
By their heroic actions set on tire,
I start from rest, and strike ujy sounding lyre.
I strike— nor are its notes a troidjled stream.
They calm the soul, like fair Malvina's theme,
When her white hand awakes the quiv'ring string.
And Lutha's rugged rocks responsive ring;
Ah! Toscar's lovely heir. Thou only ray
That cheers my clouded soul, deprived of day
Fair solace of afflicted age, draw near,
And to a deed that honours youth, give ear.
What time Fingal, in JVlorven, held the sway,
Long ere, by years, these locks were turn'd to
gray;
Before the wind, I plough'd the wave of night.
Observing as I steer'd Concalthin's light.
For wild Fuarfed flew the winged ship,
A woody land surrounded by the deep.
There then the generous Mal-orchol reign'd.
That formerly Fingal had entertain'd!
AVho mindful of the favour, when inform'd
That round his friend the rage of battle storm'd,
Commanded Ossian, with a chosen train,
To join the monarch, and his cause maintain.
Arrived my ship, m Co-coiled I moor'd,
And by a special herald, sent my sword.
The king received, and brighten'd at the view,
For this the sign of Albion's aid he knew;