Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

THE SONGS OF SELMA.
STAR of descending night ! fair is thy light in the
west ! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud :
thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold
in the plain ? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur
of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the
distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble
wings ; the hum of their course is on the field. . What
dost thou behold, fair light ? But thou dost smile and
depart. The waves come with joy around thee : they
bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam ! Let
the light of Ossian's soul arise !
And it does arise in its strength ! I behold my departed
friends. Their gathering is on Lora, as in the days of
other years. Fingal comes like a watery column of mist ;
his heroes are around : And see the bards of song, grey-
haired Ullin ! stately Ryno ! Alpin, with the tuneful
voice ! the soft complaint of Minona ! How are ye
changed, my friends, since the days of Selma's feast?
When we contended, like gales of spring, as they fly along
the hill, and bend by turns the feebly- whistling grass.
Minona came forth in her beauty ; with down-cast look