Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

TEMORA. 471
bling harp. They came, with blue-eyed Ferad-artho,
to Mora of the streams.
Sudden bursts the song from our bards, on Lena :
the host struck their shields midst the sound. Glad-
ness rose brightening on the king, like the beam of a
cloud J' day, when it rises on the green hill, before the
roar of winds. He struckthe bossy shield of kings ;
at once they cease around. The people lean forward,
from their spears, towards the voice of their land.
" Sons of Morvea, spread the feast; send the night
a%vay in song. Ye have shone around me, and the
dark storm is past. My people are the windy rocks,
from which I spread my eagle-wings, when I rush
forth to renown, and seize it on its field. Ossian,
thou hast the spear of Fingal : it is not the staff of a
boy with which he strews the thistle round, young
wanderer of the field. Xo: it is the lance of the
mighty, with which they stretched forth their hands
to death. Look to thy fathers, my son ; they are
awful beams. With morcing lead Ferad-artho forth
to the echoing halls of Temora. Remind him of the
kings of Erin : the stately forms of old. Let not the
fallen be forgot: they were mighty in the field. Let
Carril pour his song, that the kings may rejoice in
their mist. To-morrow I spread my sails to Selma's
shaded walls; where streamy Duthula winds through
the seats of roes."