Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian > Volume 1

A FOEM. 67
'' of kings are around mc, yet my soul is dark.
'' Why have our fathers been foes, Ton-thormod
" love of maids !"'
''• Soft voice of the streamy isle," I said, '' why
*' dost thou mourn hy night ? The race of dar-
*' ins, Trenmor are not the dark in soul. Thou
" shalt not wander by streams unknown, bliie-
" eyed Oina-morul ! A^'ithin tliis bosom is a
" voice: it comes not to other ears : it bids Os-
" sian hear the hapless in their hour of woe.
'^ Retire, soft singer by night ! Ton-thormod
'• shall not mourn on his rock !"
With m.orning I loosed the king. T gave the
long-haired maid. j\Ial-orchal heard my words
in the midst of his echoing halls. '"^ King of
'' Fuarfed wild, why should Ton-thormod mourn?
'^ He is of the race of heroes, and a flame in
'' war. Your fathers hare been foes, but no^v
'^ their dim ghosts rejoice in death. They stretch
'' their hands of mist to the same shell in Loda.
'• Forget their rage, ye warriors ! it was the
*' cloud of other years."
Such were the deeds of Ossian, while yet his
locks were young : though loveliness, with a robe
of beams, clothed the daughter of many isles. We
call back, maid of Lutha^ the years that have
rolled away 1