Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

464 THE POEMS OF OSSIAN.
with my spear. I touched it with my spear: i
there was the soul of Ossian. It darkly rose, from
thought to thought, and sent abroad the sigh.
" Son of Morni," said the king, " Dermid, hunter
of roes ! why are ye dark, like two rocks, each with
its trickling waters ? No wrath gathers on Fingal's
soul, against the chiefs of men. Ye are my strength
in battle; the kindling of my joy in peace. My
early voice has been a pleasant gale to your et
when Fillan prepared the bow. The son of Fingal
is not here, nor yet the chase of the bounding roes.
But why should the breakers of shields stand, dark-
ened, far away ?"
Tall they strode towards the king; they saw him
turned to Mora's wind. His tears came down for
his blue-eyed son, who slept in the cave of streams.
But he briglitened before them, and spoke to the
broad-shielded kings.
" Crommal, with woody rocks, and misty top, the
field of winds, pours forth, to the sight, blue Lubar's
streamy roar. Behind it rolls clear-winding Lavath,
in the still vale of deer. A cave is dark in a rock ;
above it strong-winged eagles dwell; broad-headed
oaks, before it, sound in Cluna's wind. Within,
in his locks of youth, is Ferad-artho, blue-eyed
king, the son of broad-shielded Cairbar, from UUin
of the roes. He listens to the voice of Condan,
as, grey, he bends in feeble light. He listens, for
his foes dwell in the echoing halls of Temora. He
comes, at times, abroad in the skirts of mist, i
pierce the bounding roes. When the sun looks o
the field, nor by the rock, nor stream, is he! H
shuns the race of Bolga, who dwell in his fathers'
hall. Tell him, that Fingal lifts the spear, and that
his foes, perhaps, may fail.
" Lift up, O Gaul, the shield before him. Stretch
Dermid, Temora's spear. Be thy voice in his ear, ,
O Carril, with the deeds of his fathers. Lead him '
to green Moi-lena, to the dusky field of ghosts ; for
there, I fall forward, in battle, in the folds of war.
Before dun night descends, come to high Dunmora's
top. Look, from the grey skirts of mist^ on L^na