Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 1

CATH-LODA
DUAN SECOND.
W HERE art thou, son of the king?" said dark-
haired Duth-maruno. " Where hast thou failed,
young beam of Sehiia ? He returns not from the
bosom of night ! JNIorning is spread on U-thorno.
In his mist is the sun on his hill. Warriors, lift
the shields in my presence. He must not fall,
like a fire from heaven, whose place is not
marked on the ground. He comes, like an ea-
gle, from the skirt of his squally wind ! In his
hand are the spoils of foes. King of Selma, our
souls were sad !"
" Near us are the foes, Duth-maruno. They
come forAvard, like waves in mist, when their
foamy tops are seen, at times, above the low-
sailing vapour. The traveller shrinks on his
journey; he knows not whither to fly. No
trembling travellers are we ! Sons of heroes call
forth the steel. Shall the sword of Fingal arise,
or shall a warrior lead.?"