Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

43 CARRIC-THURA.
met a rock : Fingal stood unmoved, broken they rolled
back from his side. Nor did they safely fly ; the spear
of the king pursued their steps. The field is covered
with heroes. A rising hill preserved the foe.
Frothal saw their flight. The rage of his bosom rose.
He bent his eyes to the ground, and called the noble
Thubar. Thubar ! my people are fled. My fame has
ceased to arise. I will fight the king ; I feel my burning
soul ! Send a bard to demand the combat. Speak not
against Frothal's words ! But, Thubar ! I love a maid ;
she dwells by Thano's stream, the white-bosomed
daughter of Herman, Utha with soft-rolling eyes. She
feared the low-laid Comala ; her secret sighs rose, when
I spread the sail. Tell to Utha of harps, that my soul
delighted in her.
Such were his words, resolved to fight. The soft sigh
of Utha was near ! She had followed her hero, in the
armour of a man. She rolled her eye on the youth,
in secret, from beneath her steel. She saw the bard as
he went ; the spear fell thrice from her hand ! Her
loose hair flew on the wind. Her white breast rose, with
sighs. She raised her eyes to the king. She would
speak, but thrice she failed.
Fingal heard the words of the bard ; he came in the
strength of his steel. They mixed their deathful spears :
They raised the gleam of their arms. But the sword of
Fingal descended and cut Frothal's shield in twain. His
fair side is exposed ; half bent he foresees his death.
Darkness gathered on Utha's soul. The tear rolled down
her cheek. She rushed to cover the chief with her