Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

Temora. 343
so\il, with all his ghastly wounds. The grey form
of the youth appears in darkness. Blood pours
from his airy side. Cairbar thrice threw his spear
on earth. Thrice he stroked his beard. His steps
are short. He often stops. He tosses his sinewy
arms. He is like a cloud in the desert, varying its
form to every blast- The valleys are sad around,
and fear, by turns, the shower ! The king at
length resumed his soul. He took his pointed
spear. He turned his eye to Moi-lena. The scouts
of blue ocean came. They came with steps of
fear, and often looked behind. Cairbar knew that
the mighty were near ! He called his gloomy chiefs.
The sounding steps of his warriors came. They
drew at once their swords. There Morlath stood
with darkened face. Hidalla's long hair sighs in
the wind. Red-haired Cormar bends on his spear,
and rolls his sidelong-looking eyes. Wild is the
look of Malthos from beneath two shaggy brows.
Foldath stands, like an oozy rock, that covers its
dark sides with foam. His spear is like Slimora's
iir, that meets the wind of heaven. His shield is
marked with the strokes of battle. His red eye
despises danger. These, and a thousand other
chiefs, surrounded the king of Erin, when the scout
of ocean came, Mor-annal, from streamy Moi-lena.
His eyes hang forward from his face. His lips are
trembling pale t
" Do the chiefs of Erin stand," he said, " silent
as the grove of evening- ? Stand they like a silent
wood, and Fingal on the coast ? Fingal, who is
ten-ible in battle, the king of streamy Morven !"
" Hast thou seen the warrior?" said Cairbar with
a sigh. "Are his heroes many on the coast?
Lifts he the spear of battle ? or comes the king in
peace ?" " In peace he comes not, king of Erin !
I have seen his forward spear.* It is a meteor of