Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

430 THE POEMS OF OSSIAN.
Cathmor, at times, to Sul-malla's ear. Her soul is
darkly sad. She pours her words on wind.
" The dreams of Inis-huna departed. They are
dispersed from my soul. I hear not the chase in my
land. I am concealed in the skirt of war. I look
forth from my cloud. No beam appears to light ray
path. 1 behold my warrior low ; for the broad-
shielded king is near, he that overcomes in dan-
ger, Fingal from Selma of spears I Spirit of de-
parted Conmor ! are thy steps on the bosom of
winds ? Comest thou, at times, to other lands, fa-
ther of sad Sul-malla ? Thou dost come! I have
heard thy voice at night ; while yet I rose on the
wave to Erin of the streams. The ghosts of fathers,
they say, call away the souls of their race, while
they behold them lonely in the midst of woe. Call
me, my father, away ! When Cathmor is low on
earth, then shall Sul-malla be lonely in the midst
of woe!"