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Booh I. AK EPIC POEM. 5
" No!" replied the blue-eyed chief, "I will nevet
yield to man! Dark Cuchullin fhali be great or dead!
Go, Fithirs ion, and take my fpear. Strike the
founding thield of Cabaltf . It hangs at Tura's ruftUng
gate ; the found of peace is not its voice. My heroes
jliall hear on the hill."
He went and ftruck the boffy Ihield. The hills and
their rocks replied. The found fpread along the wood:
deer flan: by the lake of roes. Curach {j leapt from the
founding rock; and Connal of the bloody fpear. Ciu-
gal'sf breaft of fnow beats high. The fon of Favi
leaves the dark-brown hind. Ic is the fiiield of war.
faid Ronnar! the fpear of Cuchullin, faidLugar! foil
of the fea put on thy arms ! Calmar lift tiiy ibunding
Heel ! Puno ! dreadful hero, rife ! Cairbar from thy red
tree of Cromla! Bend thy white knee, O Eth ! and de-
fcend from the dreams of Lena. Ca-olt flretch thy
white fide as thou moveft along the whiftling heath of
Mora : tliy fide that is white as the foam of the troubled
fea, when the dark winds pour it on the murmuring
rock^ of Cuthonff.
Now I behold the chiefs, in the pride of their former
deeds! Their fouls are kindled at the battles of oldj
and the actions of other times. Their eyes are like
flames of fire. And roll in fcarch of the foes of the
land. Their mighty hands are on their fwords. And
lightning pours from their fides of Iteel. They come
iiktf iti-eanis from the mountains; each rullies roaring
from his hill. Bright are the chiefs of battle, in the ar-
mour of their fathers. Gloomy and dark their heroes
follow, like the gathering of the rainy clouds behind the
red meteors of heaven. The founds of cradling arms
afcend. The gray dogs howl between. Unequally
A a
t Cabait, or rather Cathbait, grandfather to tlie hero, was fo remarkable for h:
valour, ihat his ihield was made ufe of tn alarm hii polterity to the battles of th
family. We find Fingal making the fame ufe of his own (hicld in the 4th bocfc
A horn was the mott common inflrumeut to call the artiy together, before th
:„..„_.: '■•— ipipes.
_nifies I
? Cruth-geal ' fair-complex
'■' Cu-tbon, ' the mournful found of w
[ Cii-raoth fignifies the madnefs of battle.
%c
" No!" replied the blue-eyed chief, "I will nevet
yield to man! Dark Cuchullin fhali be great or dead!
Go, Fithirs ion, and take my fpear. Strike the
founding thield of Cabaltf . It hangs at Tura's ruftUng
gate ; the found of peace is not its voice. My heroes
jliall hear on the hill."
He went and ftruck the boffy Ihield. The hills and
their rocks replied. The found fpread along the wood:
deer flan: by the lake of roes. Curach {j leapt from the
founding rock; and Connal of the bloody fpear. Ciu-
gal'sf breaft of fnow beats high. The fon of Favi
leaves the dark-brown hind. Ic is the fiiield of war.
faid Ronnar! the fpear of Cuchullin, faidLugar! foil
of the fea put on thy arms ! Calmar lift tiiy ibunding
Heel ! Puno ! dreadful hero, rife ! Cairbar from thy red
tree of Cromla! Bend thy white knee, O Eth ! and de-
fcend from the dreams of Lena. Ca-olt flretch thy
white fide as thou moveft along the whiftling heath of
Mora : tliy fide that is white as the foam of the troubled
fea, when the dark winds pour it on the murmuring
rock^ of Cuthonff.
Now I behold the chiefs, in the pride of their former
deeds! Their fouls are kindled at the battles of oldj
and the actions of other times. Their eyes are like
flames of fire. And roll in fcarch of the foes of the
land. Their mighty hands are on their fwords. And
lightning pours from their fides of Iteel. They come
iiktf iti-eanis from the mountains; each rullies roaring
from his hill. Bright are the chiefs of battle, in the ar-
mour of their fathers. Gloomy and dark their heroes
follow, like the gathering of the rainy clouds behind the
red meteors of heaven. The founds of cradling arms
afcend. The gray dogs howl between. Unequally
A a
t Cabait, or rather Cathbait, grandfather to tlie hero, was fo remarkable for h:
valour, ihat his ihield was made ufe of tn alarm hii polterity to the battles of th
family. We find Fingal making the fame ufe of his own (hicld in the 4th bocfc
A horn was the mott common inflrumeut to call the artiy together, before th
:„..„_.: '■•— ipipes.
_nifies I
? Cruth-geal ' fair-complex
'■' Cu-tbon, ' the mournful found of w
[ Cii-raoth fignifies the madnefs of battle.
%c
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Early Gaelic Book Collections > Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal > Volume 1 > (181) |
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Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/77917849 |
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Shelfmark | Oss.42 |
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Additional NLS resources: | |
Attribution and copyright: |
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Description | Selected books from the Ossian Collection of 327 volumes, originally assembled by J. Norman Methven of Perth. Different editions and translations of James MacPherson's epic poem 'Ossian', some with a map of the 'Kingdom of Connor'. Also secondary material relating to Ossianic poetry and the Ossian controversy. |
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Description | Selected items from five 'Special and Named Printed Collections'. Includes books in Gaelic and other Celtic languages, works about the Gaels, their languages, literature, culture and history. |
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