Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

Temnra. 401
shall the eagle of heaven be torn from the stream
of his roaring wind, when he sees the dun prey be-
fore him, the young sons of the bounding roe, than
thou, Cathmor, be turned from the strife of re-
nown! Soon may I see thee, warrior, from the
skirts of the evening mist, when it is rolled around
me, on Lona of the streams. While yet thou art
distant far, strike, Cathmor, strike the shield, that
joy may return to my darkened soul, as I lean on
the mossy rock. But if thou shouldst fall, I am
in the land of strangers : O send thy voice from
thy cloud, to the maid of Inis-huna 1"
"Young branch of green-headed Lumon, why
dost thou shake in the storm ? Often has Cathmor
returned, from darkly-rolling wars. The darts of
death are but hail to me ; they have often rattled
along my shield. I have risen brightened from battle,
like a meteor from a stormy cloud. Return not, fair
beam, from thy vale, when the roar of battle grows.
Then might the foe escape, as from my fathei-s
of old.
"They told to Son-mor, of Clunar, who was
slain by Cormac in fight. Three days darkened
Son-mor, over his brother's fall. His spouse beheld
the ailent king, and foresaw his steps to war. She
prepared the bow, in secret, to attend her blue-
shielded hero. To her dwelt darkness at Atha,
when he was not there. From their hundred
streams, by night, poured down the sons of Alnecma.
They had heard the shield of the king, and their
rage arose. In clanging arms they moved along,
towards Ullin of the groves. Son-mor struck his
shield, at times, the leader of the war.
" Far behind followed Sul-allin, over the streamy
hills. She was a light on the mountain, when they
crossed the vale below. Her steps were stately on
the vale, when they rose on the mossy hill. She
feared to approach the king, who left her in echoing
Atha. But when the roar of battle rose ; when