Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

228 FINGAL.
meet far distant, and contend for the rolling of waves.
The hunter hears the noise on his hill. He sees the high
billows advancing to Ardven's shore ! "
Such were the words of Connal, when the heroes met,
in fight. There was the clang of arms ! there every blow,
like the hundred hammers of the furnace ! Terrible is
the battle of the kings ; dreadful the look of their eyes.
Their dark-brown shields are cleft in twain. Their steel
flies, broken, from their helms. They fling their weapons
down. Each rushes to his hero's grasp ; their sinewy
arms bend round each other : they turn from side to side,
and strain and stretch their large spreading limbs below.
But when the pride of their strength arose, they shook
the hill with their heels. Rocks tumble from their
places on high ; the green-headed bushes are overturned.
At length the strength of Swaran fell : the king of the
groves is bound. Thus have I seen on Cona ; but Cona
I behold no more ! thus have I seen two dark hills,
removed from their place, by the strength of the bursting
stream. They turn from side to side in their fall ; their
tall oaks meet one another on high. Then they tumble
together with all their rocks and trees. The streams are
turned by their side. The red ruin is seen afar.
" Sons of distant Morven," said Fingal : "guard the
king of Lochlin ! He is strong as his thousand waves.
His hand is taught to war. His race is of the times of
old. Gaul, thou first of my heroes ; Ossian, king of
songs, attend. He is the friend of Agandecca ; raise to
joy his grief. But, Oscar, Fillan, and Ryno, ye children
of the race ! pursue Lochlin over Lena ; that no vessel