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448 THE POEMS OF OSSIAN.
shield. No blast came over the heath, unknown to
bounding Bran.
Cathmor saw the white-breasted dog ; he saw the
broken shield. Darkness is blown back on his soul ;
he remembers the falling away of the people. They
came, astream ; are rolled away ; another race suc-
ceeds. " But some mark the fields, as they past,
with their own mighty names. The heath, through
dark-brown years, is theirs; some blue stream winds
to their fame. Of these be the chief of Atha, when
he lays him down on eaith. Often may the voice of
future times meet Cathmor in the air; when he
strides from wind to wind, or folds himself in the
wing of a storm."
Green Erin gathered round the king, to hear the
voice of his power. Their joyful faces bend unequal,
forward, in the light of the oak. Tliey who were
terrible were removed : Lubar winds again in their
host. Cathmor was that beam from heaven which
shone when his people were dark. He was honoured
in the midst. Their souls arose with ardour around.
The king alone no gladness shewed; no stranger
he to war !
" Why is the king so sad ?" said Malthos eagle-
eyed. "Remains there a foe at Lubar? Lives there
among tliem who can lift the spear? Notsopeaceful
was thy father, Borbar-duthul king of spears. His
rage was a fire that always burned : his joy over
fallen foes was great. Three days feasted the grey-
haired hero, when he heard that Calmar fell: Calmar
who aided therace of Ullinfrom Laraof the streams.
Often did he feel, with his hands, the steel which,
they said, had pierced his foe. He felt it with his
hands, for Borbar-duthul's eyes had failed. Yet was
the king a sun to his friends ; a gale to lift their
branches round. Joy was around him in his halls :
he loved the sons of Bolga. His name remains in
Atha, like the awful memory of ghosts, whose pre-
sence was terrible, but they blew the storm away.
Now let the voices of Erin* raise the soul of the
king; he that shone when war was dark, and laid
* A poetical expression for the bards of Ireland.

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