Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

436 THE PO£MS OF OSSIAN.
bent the bow with Rothmar, at the rock of his oWR
blue streams. There they had marked the place O'
the roe, as the sun-beam flew over the fern. Why-
son of Cul-allin! Why, Culmin, dost thou rush oi
that beam of light?* It is a fire that consumes. Soi
of Cul-allin, retire. Your fathers were not equa
in the glittering strife of the field. The mother o
Culmin remains in the hall. She looks forth (
blue-rolling Strutha, A whirlwind rises, on th
stream, dark-eddying round the ghost of her son
His dogs tare howling in their place. His shieh
is bloody in the hall. "Art thou fallen, my fail
haired son, in Erin's dismal war?"
As a roe, pierced in secret, lies panting, by he
wonted streams; the hunter surveys her feet o
wind ! He remembers her stately bounding before
So lay the son of Cul-allin beneath the eye of Fillan
His hair is rolled in a little stream. His blood wan
ders on his shield. Still his hand holds the sword
that failed him in the midst of danger. " Thou ar
fallen," said Fillan, " ere yet thy fame was heard
Thy father sent thee to war. He expects to hear o
thy deeds. He is grey, perhaps, at his streams
His eyes are toward Moi-lena. But thou shalt no
return with the spoil of the fallen foe!"
Fillan pours the flight of Erin before him, over thi
resounding heath. But, man on man, fell Morvei
before the dark-red rage of Foldath : for, far on thi
field, he poured the roar of half his tribes. Dermi<
stands before him in wrath. The sons of Selm;
gathered around. But his shield is cleft by Foldath
His people fly over the heath.
Then said the foe, in his pride, " The}' have fled
My fame begins ! Go, Malthos, go bid Cathmo,
* The poet metaphorically calls Fillan a bean) o
light.
t Dogs were thought to be sensible of the deatl
c^f their master, let it happen at ever so great a dis
tance. It was also the opinion of the times, tha
the arms, which warriors left at home, becam*
bloody, when they themselves fell in battle.