Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

354 The Poems of Ossian.
His words came to the ears of Cairbar. He
closed us in the midst of darkness. He feared to
stretch his sword to the bards, though his soul was
dark. Long we pined alone ! At length the noble
Cathmor came. He heard our voice from the cave.
He turned the eye of his wrath on Cairbar.
" Brother of Cathmor," he said, " how long wilt
thou pain my soul ? Thy heart is a rock. Thy
thoughts are dark and bloody ! But thou art the
brother of Cathmor; and Cathmor shall shine in thy
war. But my soul is not like thine ; thou feeble hand
in fight ! The light of my bosom is stained with
thy deeds. Bards will not sing of my renown ;
they may say, ' Cathmor was brave, but he fought
for gloomy Cairbar.' They will pass over my
tomb in silence. My fame shall not be heard.
Cairbar ! loose the bards. They are the sons of
future times. Their voice shall be heard in other
years ; after the kings of Temora have failed.
We came forth at the words of the chief. We saw
him in his strength. He was like thy youth, O
Fingal ! when thou first didst lift the spear. His
face was like the plain of the sun, when it is bright.
No darkness travelled over his brow. But he
came with his thousands to aid the red-haired Cair-
bar. Now he comes to revenge his death, O king
of woody Morven !"
" Let Cathmor come," replied the king, " I love
a foe so great. His soul is bright. His arm is
strong. His battles are fuU of fame. But the little
soul is a vapour that hovers round the marshy lake.
It never rises on the green hill, lest the winds should
meet it there. Its dwelling is in the cave : it sends
forth the dart of death ! Our young heroes, O
warriors ! are like the renown of our fathers. They
fight in youth. They fall. Their names are in
song. Fingal is amid his darkening years. He
must not fall, as an aged oak, across a secret stream.
Near it are the steps of the hunter, as it lies be-