Ossian Collection > Fingal

200 CARRIC-THURA:
defend my father. By the fpear of Gormar he feli.
Thou may'ft fall, O Connal I
C O N N A L.
Fall Indeed I may : But raife my tomb, Cri-
mora. Gray ftones, a mound of earth, fhall keep
my memory. Bend thy red eye over my tomb,
and beat thy mournful heavy breaft. Though fair
thou art, my love, as the light ; more pleafant than
the gale of the hill ; yet I will not ftay. Raife my
tomb, Crimora.
Then give me thofe arms of light ; that fword,
and that fpear of flee). I ihall meet Dargo with
thee, and aid my lovely Connal. Farewel, ye
rocks of Ardven ! ye dear ! and ye flreams of the
hill I — We fnall return no more. Our tombs are
d i flan t far.
And did they return no more ? faid Utha's burn-
ing figh. Fell the mighty in battle, and did Cri-
mora live r — Her fleps v.-ere lonely, and her foul
was fad for Connal. Was he not young and love-
ly; like the beam of the fetting fun ? Ullin faw the
virgin's tear, and took the foftly-trembling harp:
the fong was lovely, but fad, and filence was in
Carric-thura.
Autumn is dark on the mountains ; gray mid
refts on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the
heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow
plain. A tree flands alone on the hill, and marks
the numbering Connal. The leaves whirl round
with the wind, and Ilrew the grave of the dead.
At times are feen here the ghofts of the deceafed,
when the mufing hunter alone ftalks llowly over the
heath.
Who can reach the fource of thy race, O Con-
nal? and who recount thy fathers? Thy family
grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth
ilie v/ind with its lofty head. But now it is torn
from