Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

CONLATH AND CUTHONA.
"P^iD notOssian hear avoice ? or is it the soundof
"^■^ days that are no more ? Often does the memory
of former times come, like the evening sun, on ray
soul. The noise of the chase is renewed. In thought,
I lift the spear. But Ossian did hear a voice ! Who
art thou, son of night? The children of the feeble
are asleep. The midnight wind is in my hall. Per-
haps it is the shield of Fingal that echoes to the
blast. It hangs in Ossian's hall. He feels it some-
times with his hands. Yes ! I hear thee, my friend !
Long has thy voice been absent from mine ear!
What brings thee, on thy cloud, to Ossian, son of
generous Morni ? Are the friends of the aged near
thee ? Where is Oscar, son of fame ? He was often
near thee, O Conlath, when the sound of battle arose.
Ghost of Conlath. Sleeps the sweet voice of Cona,
in the midst of his rustling hall? Sleeps Ossian
in his hall, and his friends without their fame ? The
sea rolls round dark I-thona. Our tombs are not
seen in our isle. How long shall our fame be un-
heard, son of resounding Selma?
Ossian. O that mine eyes could behold thee !
Thou sittest, dim on thy cloud! Art thou like the
mistof Lano ? An half-extinguished meteor of fire ?
Of what are the skirts of thy robe ? Of what is thine
airy bow ? He is gone on his blast like the shade of
a wandering cloud. Come from thy wall, O harp !
Let me hear thy sound. Let the light of memory
rise on I-thona ! Let me behold again my friends !
And Ossian does behold his friends, on the dark-
blue isle. The cave of Thona appears, with its
mossy rocks and bending trees. A stream roars
at its mouth. Toscar bends over its course. Fer-