Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal

S6 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION
our eyes a spirit from the invisible world, distlnj^uishe
by all those features which a strung astonished nnagin
ation would give to a ghost. " A dark-red stream c
" fire comes down from the hill. Crugal sat upon th
" beam ; he that lately fell by the hand of Swarar
" striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like th'
*' beam of the setting moon. His robes are of th
*' clouds of the hill. His eyes are like two decayin
*' flames. Dark is the wound of his breast. The star
** dim-twinkled through his form ; and his voice wa
'* like the- sound of a distant stream." The circum
stance of the stars being beheld, *' dim-twinkling thrc
" his form," is wonderfully picturesque ; and convey'
the most lively impression of his thin and shadowy sub
stance. The attitude in which he is afterwards piacec
and the speech put into his mouth, are full of that so
lemn and awful sublimity which suits the subjecl'
*' Dim, ?nd in tears, he stood, and stretched his pal'
*' hand over the hero. Faintly he raised his feebl'
*' voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego. My ghosi
*' O Connal 1 is on my native hills ; but my corse i
*' on the sands of Uilin. Thou shalt never talk witli
** Crugal, or find his lone steps in the heath. I am lighi
** as the blast of Cromla ; and I move like the shadov
*' of mist. Connal, son of Colgar I I see the dark clou(
** of death. It hovers over the plains of Lena. Thi
*' sons of green Erin shall fall. Remove from the fiehi
" of ghosts. Like the darkened moon he retired, iii
" the midst of the whistling blast."
Several other appearances of spirits might be po;nte(
out as among the most sublime passages of Ossian'l
poetry. The circumstances of them are considerably!
diversified ; and the scenery always suited to the occai
sion. " i)scar slowly ascends the hill. The meteor.
" of night set on the heath before him. A distant tor
*' rent faintly roars. Unfrequent blasts rush througl
" aged oaks. The half enlightened moon sinks din'
*' and red behind her hill. Feeble voices are heard oi
*' the heath. Oscar drew his sword." Nothing cai
prepare the fancy more happily for the awful scene that