Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal

172 C ALT HON AND COLMAL.
of Clutha, and our souls were sad. I dreaded the departure of my
fame ; the pride of my valour rose. *' Sons of MorVen," I shid, " it
is not thus our fathers fought. They rested not on the field of
stranirers, when the foe did fall before them. Their strength was
like the eagles of heaven ; their renown is in the song. But our
people fall by degrees, and our fame begins to depart. What shall
the king of Morven say, if Ossian conquers not at Teutha ? Rise
in your steel, ye warriors, and follow the sound of Ossian's course.
He will not return, but renowned, to the echoing walls of Selma."
Morning rose on the blue waters of Teutlia; Colmal stood before
me in tears. She told of the chief of Clutha : and thrice the spear
fell from her hand. My wrath turned against the stranger ; for my
soul trembled for Calthon. « Son of the feeble hand," I said, " do
Teutha's warriors fight with tears? The battle is not won with grief;
nor dwells the sigh in the soul of war. Go to the deer of Carmun,
or the lowing herds of Teutha. But leave these arms, thou son of
fear : a warrior may lift them in battle."
I tore the mail from her shoulders. Her snowy breast appeared.
She bent her red face to the ground. I looked in silence to the chiefs.
The spear fell from m.y hand ; and the sigh of my bosom rose.
But when I heard the name of the maid, my crowding tears descend-
ed. I blessed tlie lovely beam of youth, and bade the battle move.
Why, son of the rock, should Ossian tell how Tenth a's war-
riors died ? They are now forgot in their land ; and tlieir tombs are
not found on the heath. Years came on with their tempests ; and
the green mounds mouldered away. Scarce is the grave of Dun-
thalmo seen, of the place where he fell by the spear of Ossian.
Some gray warrior, half bHnd with age, sitting by night at the
flaming oak of the hall, tells now my a£lions to his sons, and the
fall of the dark Dunthalmo. The faces of youth bend sidelong to-
wards his voice ; surprise and joy burn in their eyes.
I found the son* of Rathmor bound to an oak ; my sword cut
the thongs from his hands. And I gave him the white-bosomed
Colmal. They dwelt in the halls of Teutha ; and Ossian returned
to Selma.
LATHMON: