Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

Fingal. 297
behind the groves. Covered over with arms of
steel, a son of the woody Gormal appeared. Red
was his cheek, and fair Ms hair. His skin was like
the snow of Morven. Mild rolled his blue and
smiling eye, when he spoke to the king of swords.
" * Stay, Trenmor, stay, thou first of men ;
thou hast not conquered Lonval's son. My sword
has often met the brave. The wise shun the strength
of my bow.' ' Thou fair-haired youth,' Trenmor
replied, ' I will not fight with Lonval's son. Thine
arm is feeble, sun-beam of youth ! Retire to Gor-
mal's dark-brown hinds.' ' But I will retire,' re-
plied the youth, ' with the sword of Trenmor ; and
exult in the sound of my fame. The virgins shall
gather with smiles around him who conquered
mighty Trenmor. They shall sigh with the sighs
of love, and admire the length of thy spear ; when
I shall carry it among thousands ; when I lift the
glittering point to the sun.'
" ' Thou shalt never carry my spear,' said the
angry king of Morven. ' Thy mother shall find
thee pale on the shore ; and, looking over the dark-
blue deep, see the sails of him that slew her son !'
' I will not lift the spear,' replied the youth, ' my
arm is not strong with years. But, with the
feathered dart, I have learned to pierce a distant
foe. Throw down that heavy mail of steel. Tren-
mor is covered from death. I first will lay luy
mail on earth. Throw now thy dart, thou king
of ISIorveu !' He saw the heaving of her breast.
It was the sister of the king. She had seen him in
the hall ; and loved his face of youth. The spear
dropt from the hand of Trenmor : he bent his red
cheek to the ground. She was to him a beam of
light that meets the sons of the cave ; when they
revisit the fields of the sun, and bend their aching
eyes!
" ' Chief of the windy Morven,' begun the maid
of the arms of snow, * let me rest in thy bounding