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408 THE POEMS OF OSSIAN.
spear, came forward on my course. Now would
have mixed in horrid fray, like two contending
ghosts, that bending forward, from two clouds, send
forth the roaring winds ; did not Ossian behold, on
high, the helmet of Erin's kings. The eagle's wing
spread above it, rustling in the breeze. A red stai
looked through the plumes. I stopt the lifted sp(
" The helmet of kings is before me ! Who ar'
thou, son of night? Shall Ossian's spear be renown
ed, when thou art lowly laid?" At once he drop'
the gleaming lance. Growing before me seemed tli»
form. He stretched his hand in night. He spoki
the words of kings.
" Friend of the spirits of heroes, do I meet the^
thus in shades? I have wished for thy stately step
in Atha, in the days of joy. Wliy should my spea
now arise ? The sun must behold us, Ossian, whe
we bend, gleaming, in the strife. Future warrior
. shall mark the place, and shuddering think of othe
years. They shall mark it, like the haunt of ghost;
pleasant and dreadful to the soul."
" Shall it then be forgot," I said, " where we met
in peace ? Is the remembrance of battles alwaj
pleasant to the soul ? Do not we behold, with jo;
the place where our fathers feasted ? But our ey
are full of tears, on the fields of their war.
stone shall rise, with all its moss, and speak to oth
years. ' Here Cathmor and Ossian met: thev/arrio
met in peace!' When thou, O stone, shalt fai
when Lubar's stream shall roll away ; then shi
the traveller come, and bend here, perhaps, in re:
When the darkened moon is rolled over his hea
our shadowy forms may come, and, mixing with I
dreams, remind him of his place. But why turnt
thou so dark away, son of 15orbar-duthul ?"
" Not forgot, son of Fingal, shall we ascend tht
winds. Our deeds are streams of light, before t
eyes of bards. But darkness is rolled on Ath
the king is low, without his song: still there wa;
beam towards Cathmor, from his stormy soul; li
the moon in a cloud, amidst the dark-red course i
thunder."
" Son of Erin," I replied, " my wrath dwells i;

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