Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal > Volume 2

[Book II. AN EPIC POEM. 131
[of the folds of night, your voice Is but a blast to' me •
\vhich takes the .u;rey thistle's head, aud strews its beard
on iti c.iins. V/itliin niy bosom is a voice, others hear
it not. His soul forbids the king of Eriii to shrink back
from war.'''
Abashed the bard sinks back in night ; retired, he
bends above a stream, his thoughts are on the days of
Atha, when Cathmor heard his song with joy. His
tears come rolling down : the winds are in his beard.
Erin sleeps around. No sleep comes downonCath-
inor's eyes. Dark, In his soul, he saw tJhe spirit of
lovz-laid Cairbar. lie saw him, without his song, roll-
ed in a blast of niglit. He rose. His steps were round
the host. lie struck, at times, his echoing shield. The
sound reached Ossian's ear, on Mora of the hinds.
" Fillan," I said, '' the foes advance. I hear the
hield of v*ar. Stand thou in the narrow path. Ossi-
an shall mark their course. If over my fall the host
shall pour; then be tJiy buckler heard. Awake the
king on his heath, lest his tame should cease." I strode
in all my rattling arms ; wide bounding over a stream
that darkly winded, in the field, before the king of A-
tha. Green Atha's king, with lifted spear, came for-
ward on my course. Now would we have mixed in
horrid tray, like uvo contending ghosts, that bending
forward, from two clouds, send forth the roaring
Ai'inds ; did not Ossian behold, on high, the helmet of
Erin's kings. The eagles wings spread abgve it, rust-,
fing in the breeze. A red star looked thiough the
plumes. I stopt the lifted spear.
" The helmet of kings is before me ! Who art thou
son of night ? Shall Ossian's spear be renowned, when
tliou art lowly laid ?" At once he dropt the gleaming
lance. Growing before me seemed the form. He
stretched his hand in night ; and spoke the words of
kings.
" Friend of the spirit of heroes, do I meet thee thus
jn sliades ? I have wished for thy stiitcly steps in Atha^
in the days offcast;. Why shoiJd my spear nov/ a,-*