Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

01TH0NA. 93
brother dwells. He is renowned in battle : give him
this glittering helm."
The helmet fell from the hand of Gaul. It was the
wounded Oithona ! She had armed herself in the cave,
and came in search of death. Her heavy eyes are half
closed; the blood pours from her heaving side. "Son
of Morni ! " she said, "prepare the narrow tomb.
Sleep grows, like darkness, on my soul. The eyes of
Oithona are dim ! O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the
bright beam of my fame ! then had my years come on
with joy ; the virgins would then bless my steps. But I
fall in youth, son of Morni ! my father shall Dlush in his
hall ! "
She fell pale on the rock of Tromathon. The mourn-
ful warrior raised her tomb. He came to Morven ; we
saw the darkness of his soul. Ossian took the harp
in the praise of Oithona. The brightness of the face
of Gaul returned. But his sigh rose, at times, in
the midst of his friends ; like blasts that shake their
unfrequent wings, after the stormy winds are laid !