Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

TEMORA. 455
" Who comes through night to Cathmor, in the sea-
son of his dreams? Bring'st thou aught of war?
AVho art thou, son of night? Stand'st thou before
me, a form of the times of old ? A voice from the
fold of a cloud, to warn me of the danger of Erin ?"
" Nor lonely scout am I, nor voice from folded
cloud," she said, " but I warn thee of the danger of
Erin. Dost thou hear that sound ? It is not the fee-
ble, king of Atha, that rolls his signs on night."
" Let the warrior roll his signs," he replied; "to
Cathmor they are the sounds of harps. My joy is
great, voice of night, and burns over all my thoughts.
This is the music of kings, on lonely hills, by night ;
when they light their daring souls, the sons of
mighty deeds ! The feeble dwell alone, in the valley
of the breeze; where mists lift their morning skirts,
from the blue-winding streams."
" Not feeble king of men, were they, the fathers
of my race. They dwelt in the folds of battle, in
their distant lands. Yet delights not my soul in the
signs of death ! He, who never yields, comes forth :
O send the bard of peace !"
Like a dropping rock in the desert, stood Cathmor
in his tears. Her voice came, a breeze, on his soul,
and waked the memory of her land; wliere she
dwelt by her peaceful streams, before he came to
tlie war of Conmor.
•■ Daughter of strangers," he said (she trembling
turned away), " long have I marked thee in thy steel,
young pine of Inis-huna, But my soul, I said, is
folded in a storm. Why should that beam arise, till
lay steps return in peace ? Have I been pale in thy
I'lesence, as thou bid'st meto fear the king? The
time of danger, O maid, is the season of my soul ;
for tlieu it swells a mighty stream, and rolls me on
■ ' Beneath the moss-covered rock of Lona, near his
own loud stream; grey in his locks of age, dwells
Clonnial king of harps. Above him is his echoing
.tree, and the dun bounding of roes. The noise of
! our strife reaches his ear, as he bends in the thoughts
i of years. There let thy rest be, Sul-malla, until our