Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian, the son of Fingal

i86 O I T H O N A.
after the departure of Lathmon, when he went to the wars of his
fatliers, to the moss-covered rock of Duthormoth; night came
on, and I sat in the hall, at the beam of the oak. The wind was
abroad in the trees. I heard the sound of arms. Joy rose in my
face ; for I thought of thy return. It was the chief of Cuthal,
the red-haired strength of Dunrommath. His eyes rolled in fire:
the blood of my people was on his sword. They who defended
Oithona fell by the gloomy chief. What could I do ? My arm
was weak ; it could not lift the spear. He took me in my grief,
amidst my tears he raised the sail. He feared the returning strength
of Lathmon, the brother of unhappy Oithona. But behold, he
comes with his people ! the dark wave is divided before him !
Whither wilt thou turn thy steps, son of Morni ? Many are the
warriors of Dunrommath !"
«' My steps never turned from battle," replied the hero as he
unsheathed his sword ; " and shall I begin to fear, Oithona, when
thy foes are near ? Go to thy cave, daughter of Nuiith, till our
battle cease. Son of Leth, bring the bows of our fathers ; and
the sounding quiver of Morni. Let our three warriors bend the
yew. Ourselves will lift the spear. They are an host on the rock j
but our souls are strong."
The daughter of Nuath went to the cave : a troubled joy rose
on her mind, like the red path of the lightning on a stormy cloud.
Her scul was resolved, and the tear was dried from her wildly-
looking eye. Dunrommath slowly approached ; for he saw the
sort of INIorni. Contempt contradled his face, a smile is on his
dark-brown cheek ; his red eye rolled, half-concealed, beneath his
shaggy brows.
" Wlience are the sons of the sea }" began the gloomy chief,
" Have the winds driven you to the rocks of Tromathon ? Or come
you in search of the white-handed daughter of Nuiith ^ The sons
of the unhappy, ye feeble men, come to the hand of Dunrom.-
math. His eyes spares not the weak, and he delights in the blood
of strangers. Oithona is a beam of light, and the chief of Cuthal
i-n ioy3 i*^ in secret \ wouldst thou come on its loveliness like a cloud,
son