Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

404 The Poems of Osaian.
for never had they seen a ship, dark rider of the
\vave !
"Now he dares to call the winds, and to mix
with the mist of ocean. Blue Inis-fail rose, in
smoke ; but dark-skirted night came down. The
sons of Bolga feared. The fiery-haired Ton-thena
rose. Culbin's bay received the ship, in the bosom
of its echoing woods. There issued a stream from
Duthuma's horrid cave; where spirits gleamed, at
times, with their half-finished forms.
' ' Dreams descended on Larthon : he saw seven
spirits of his fathers. He heard their half-formed
words, and dimly beheld the times to come. He
beheld the kings of Atha, the sons of future days.
They led their hosts, along the field, like ridges of
mist, which winds pour, in autumn, over Atha of
the groves.
' ' Larthon raised the hall of Samla, to the music
of the harp. He went forth to the roes of Erin,
to their wonted streams. Nor did he forget green-
headed Lumon ; he often bounded over his seas, to
where white-handed Flathal looked from the hill of
roes. Lumon of the foamy streams, thou risest on
Fonar's soul !"
Morning pours from the east. The misty heads
of the mountains rise. Valleys show, on every side,
the gTey winding of their streams. His host heard
the shield of Cathmor : at once they rose around ;
like a crowded sea, when first it feels the wings of
the wind. The waves know not whither to roll ;
they lift their troubled heads.
Sad and slow retired Sul-malla to Lona of the
streams. She went, and often turned ; her blue
eyes rolled in tears. But when she came to the
rock, that darkly covered Lona's vale, she looked,
from her bursting soul, on the king ; and sunk, at
once, behind.
Son of Alpin, strike the string. Is there aught
of joy in the harp ? Pour it then on the soul of