Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

86 Critical Dissertation
fell by tlie hand of Svvaran, striving in tlie battle
of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting
moon. His robes are of the clouds of the hill.
His eyes are like two decaying flames. Dark is
the wound of his breast. — The stars dim-twinkled
through his form ; and his voice was like the sound
of a distant stream." The circumstance of the
stars being beheld, *' dim-twinkling through his
form," is wonderfully picturesque ; and conveys
the most lively impression of his thin and shadowy
substance. The attitude in which he is afterwards
placed, and the speech put into his mouth, are full
of that solemn and awful sublimity which suits the
subject. * ' Dim, and in tears, he stood, and stretch-
ed his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he raised
his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego.
— My ghost, O Connal ! is on my native hills ;
but my corse is on the sands of Ullin. Thou shalt
never talk with Crugal, or find his lone steps in
the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla;
and I move like the shadow of mist. Connal, son
of Colgar! I see the dark cloud of death. It
hovers over the plains of Lena. The sons of green
Erin shall fall. Remove from the field of ghosts.
. — Like the darkened moon he retired in the midst
of the whistling blast."
Several other appearances of spirits might be
pointed out, as among the most sublime passages
of Ossian's poetry. The circumstances of them
are considerably diversified ; and the scenery always
suited to the occasion. "Oscar slowly ascends
the hill. The meteors of night set on the heath
before him. A distant torrent faintly roars. Un-
frequent blasts rush through the aged oaks. The
half-enlightened moon sinks dim and red behind
the hill. Feeble voices are heard on the heath,
Oscar drew his sword."— —Notliing can prepare
the fancy more happily for the awful scene that is
to follow. " Trenmor came from his hill, at the