Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

414 THE POEMS OF OSSIAN.
the tear hangs in his eye. He strikes, at times, thii
thistle's head, with his inverted spear. Nor is h«l
unseen of Fingal. Side-long he beholds his son. Hr.
beholds him, withbursting joy ; and turns, amid hii.
crowded soul. In silence turns the king towardsi
Mora of woods. He hides the big tear with hii
locks. At length his voice is heard.
" First of the sons of Morni ! Thou rock that del
tiest the storm ! Lead thou my battle, for the raa.
of low-laid Cormac. No boy's staff is thy spear
no harmless beam of light thy sword. Son of Morn
of steeds, behold the foe! Destroy! Fillan, observ<
the chief! He is not calm in strife : nor burns he
heedless, in battle. My son, observe the chief
He is strong as Lubar's stream, but never foams am
roars. High on cloudy Mora, Fingal shall beholc
the war. Stand, Ossian, near thy father, by th«i
falling stream. Raise the voice, O bards ! Selma
move beneath the sound. It is my latter field
Clothe it over with light."
As the sudden rising of winds ; or distant rollin|
of troubled seas, when some dark ghost, in wrath'
heaves the billows over an isle : an isle, the seat o
mist on the deep, for many dark-brown years I &
terrible is the sound of the host, wide-moving ove:
the field. Gaul is tall before them. The streami
glitter within his strides. The bards raise the sonj
by his side. He strikes his shield between. On thu
skirts of the blast, the tuneful voices rise.
" On Crona," said the bards, " there bursts *
stream by night. It swells in its own dark course-
till morning's early beam . Then comes it white froir*
the hill, with the rocks and their hundred groves/^
Far be my steps from Crona. Death is tumbling there.
Be ye a stream from Mora, sons of cloudy Morvenli
" Who rises, from his car, on Clutha? The hillsl,
are troubled before the king ! The dark woods echof,
round, and lighten at his steel. See him amidst thei
foe, like Colgach's sportful ghost: when he scatters'
the clouds, and rides the eddying winds! It is
Morni of bounding steeds ! Be like thy father,
Gaul !