Ossian Collection > Works of Ossian, the son of Fingal > Volumes 3 and 4

A N E P 1 C P O E M. 43
AVe came forth at the Avords of the chief.
We faw him in his ftrength. He was like thy
youth , o Fingal , when thou firil didft lift the
fpear. His face was like the plain of the
fun 5 when it is bright : no darknefs travelled
over his brow. But be came with his thouiands
to UUin , to aid the red-haired Cairbar : and
now he comes, to revenge bis death , o king
of woody Morven. — —
And ier him come, replied the king; I lo-
\e a foe like Cathmor. His loul is great; his
arm is flrong ; his battles are full of fame. —
'But the little foul is a vapour that hovers round
the mariliy lake : it never rifes on the green
hill, leit the winds fhould meet it there: its
dwelling is in the cave , it fends forth the dart
of death.
Our young hei'oes, o warriors, are like
ihz renown of our fathers. Tliey fight in
:uth; they fall: their names are in the fong.
Fingal is amidft his darkening years. He mull
not fall, as an aged oak, acrofs a fecret ftream.
Near it are the fleps of the hunter, as it lies
beneath the wind. "How has that tree fallen?"
He, whiilling, (hides along,
Raife