Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

438 THE POEMS OF OSSIAN.
the name of Foldath, from his roaring tribes. Fok
dath, with joy, beholds the chief. He lifts aloft his
bloody spear. As a rock is marked with streamsi;
that fell troubled down its side in a storm; so^i
streaked with wandering blood, is the dark chiev
of Moma! The host on either side withdraw fron
the contending kings. They raise, at once, theii
gleaming points. Rushing comes Fillan of Selma
Three paces back Foldath withdraws, dazzled witl
that beam of light, which came, as issuing from s
cloud, to save the wounded chief. Growing in hii
pride he stands. He calls forth all his steel.
As meet two broad-winged eagles, in their sound
ing strife, in winds : so rush the two chiefs, onMoi
lena, into gloomy fight. By turns are the steps o
the kings* forward on their rocks above; for no5i
the dusky war seems to descend on their swords
Cathmor feels the joy of warriors, on his mossj
hill : their joy in secret, when dangers rise to matcl
their souls. His eye is not turned on Lubar, bu
on Selma's dreadful king. He beholds him, <
Mora, rising in his arms.
Foldath falls on his shield. The spear of Fillat.
pierced the king. Nor looks the youth on the fallen,
but onward rolls the war. The hundred voices o:
death arise. " Stay, son of Fingal, stay thy speed,
Beholdest thou not that gleaming form, a dreadful
sign of death ? Awaken not the king of Erin,
turn, son of blue-eyed Clatho."
Malthos beholds Foldath low. He darkly stands
above the chief. Hatred is rolled from his soul. H<
seems a rock in a desert, on whose dark side art
the trickling of waters ; when the slow-sailing misi
has left it, and all its trees are blasted with winds.
He spoke to the dying hero about the narroTt
house. " Whether shall thy grey stone rise in Ullin,)
or in Moma's woody land ; where the sun looks, iq
secret, on the blue streams of Dalrutho ? There are
the steps of thy daughter, blue-eyed Dardu-lena!"
" Rememberest thou her,"said Foldath," because
' Fingal and Cathmor.