Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 1

304 CARTHON:
in his face ; the death of armies on liis spear.
A thousand shields, at once, are placed on their
arms ; they drew a thousand swords. The hall
of Selma brightened around. The clang of arms
ascends. The grey dogs howl in their place.
No word is among the mighty chiefs. Each
marked the eyes of the king ; and half assumed
his spear.
" Sons of Morven," begun the king, " this
is no time to fill the shell. The battle darkens
near us; death hovers over the land. Some
ghost, the friend of Fingal, has forewarned us
of the foe. The sons of the stranger come
from the darkly-rolling sea. For, from the
water, came the sign of Morven's gloomy dan-
ger. Let each assume his heavy spear, each
gird on his father's sword. Let the dark helmet
rise on every head ; the mail pour its lightning
from every side. The battle gathers like a
storm ; soon shall ye hear the roar of death."
The hero moved on before his host, like a
cloud before a ridge of green fire; when it
pours on the sky of night, and mariners foresee
a storm. On Cona's rising heath they stood :
the white-bosomed maids beheld them above
like a grove; they foresaw the death of the
youth, and looked towards the sea with fear.
The white wave deceived them for distant sails;
the tear is on their cheek ! The sun rose on the