Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

FINGAL. 245
they loved the strife of spears. But often did they feast
in the hall : and send round the joy of the shell. Let
thy face brighten with gladness, and thine ear delight in
the harp. Dreadful as the storm of thine ocean, thou
hast poured thy valour forth ; thy voice has been like the
voice of thousands when they engage in war. Raise, to-
morrow, raise thy white sails to the wind, thou brother of
Agandecca ! Bright as the beam of noon, she comes on
my mournful soul. I have seen thy tears for the fair one.
I spared thee in the halls of Starno ; when my sword
was red with slaughter ; when my eye was full of tears for
the maid. Or dost thou choose the fight ? The combat
which thy fathers gave to Trenmor is thine ! that thou
mayest depart renowned, like the sun setting in the west ! "
"King of the race of Morven ! " said the chief of
resounding Lochlin, " never will Swaran fight with thee,
first of a thousand heroes ! I have seen thee in the
halls of Starno : few were thy years beyond my own.
When shall I, I said to my soul, lift the spear like the
noble Fingal? We have fought heretofore, O warrior,
on the side of the shaggy Malmor ; after my waves had
carried me to thy halls, and the feast of a thousand shells
was spread. Let the bards send his name who overcame
to future years, for noble was the strife of Malmor ! But
many of the ships of Lochlin have lost their youths on
Lena. Take these, thou king of Morven, and be the
friend of Swaran ! When thy sons shall come to
Gormal, the feast of shells shall be spread, and the
combat offered on the vale."
"Nor ship," replied the king, " shall Fingal take, nor