Ossian Collection > Fingal

124 C A R TH O N:
fammor Is alone. But my fword trembles by my
fide, and longs to glitter in my hand. — Speak no
more of Comhal, fon of the winding Clutha !
The llrength of his pride arofe. We fought ;
he fell beneath my fword. The banks of Clutha
heard his fall, and a thoufand fpears glitter-ed a-
round. I fought : the flrangers prevailed : I
plunged into the ftream of Ckitha. My white
fails rofe over the waves, and I bounded on the
dark-blue fea. — Moina came to the fhore, and
rolled the red eye of her tears : her dark hair flew
on the wind ; and I heard her cries. — Often did
I turn my fhip I but the winds of the Eaft pre-,
vailed. Nor Clutha ever fin c-e have I feen : nor
Moina of the dark brown hair. — She fell in Bai-
clutha: for I have feen her ghoil. 1 knew her as
ihe came through the duiky night, ^long the
murmur of Lora: fhe v/as like the new moon*
feen through the gathered mill: : w^hen the fky
jKjurs down its flaky fnow, and the world is filent
and dark.
Raise t, ye bards, fliid the mighty Fingal,
the
* Inter quas Phc^nijja recens a vulnere Dido
Errabat fylva in magna : quatn Troius beros
Ut priimimjujKta ftetit, afrnoiitque per umbram
Obfcurnniy qualeni primo qui furgere menfe
Aiit 'vidett aut 'vidijje putat per mtbila lunam, l^c.
Virgil.
Not far from thefe PhcEnician Dido ftocd,
Frefh from her wound, her bofom bath'd in blood.
Whom when the Trojan hero hardly knew
Obfcure in lliades, and with a doubtful view,
Doubtiul as he who runs thro' dufky night,
Or thinks he fees the moon's uncertain light, &c.
D R Y D E N .
f The tide of this poem, in the original, is Duam na
iihci, i. e. The Pgsm of the Hymns: probably on ac-
count