Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

frINGAL. 215
his head away. Five times I shook it by the lock. The
friends of Cormac fled. Whoever would have told me,
lovely maid, when then I strove in battle; that blind,
forsaken, and forlorn I now should pass the night ; firm
ought his mail to have been ; unmatched his arm in
war ! "
On* Lena's gloomy heath, the voice of music died
away. The unconstant blast blew hard. The high oak
shook its leaves around. Of Everallin were my thoughts,
when in all the light of beauty she came. Her blue
eyes rolling in tears. She stood on a cloud before my
sight, and spoke with feeble voice ! " Rise, Ossian, rise,
and save my son ; save Oscar, prince of men. Near the
red oak of Luba's stream, he fights with Lochlin's sons."
She sunk into her cloud again. I covered me with
steel. My spear supported my steps ; my rattling armour
rung. I hummed, as I was wont in danger, the songs of
heroes of old. Like distant thunder Lochlin heard.
They fled ; my son pursued.
I called him like a distant stream. " Oscar return over
Lena. No further pursue the foe," I said, "though
Ossian is behind thee." He came! and pleasant to my
ear was Oscar's sounding steel. "Why didst thou stop
my hand," he said, "till death had covered all? For
dark and dreadful by the stream they met thy son and
Fillan ! They watched the terrors of the night. Our
swords have conquered some. But as the winds of night
pour the ocean over the white sands of Mora, so dark
advance the sons of Lochlin, over Lena's rustling heath !
* lhe poet returns to his subject.