Ossian Collection > Fingal

6 FINGAL.
raise my tomb ; the Ininter shall raise my fame.
But draw the sword from my breast. Morna, the
steel is cold ! .. She came in all her tears, she came ;
she drew the sword from his breast. He pierced
her white side! He spread her fair locks on the
ground ! Her bursting blood sounds from her side :
her white arm is stained with red. Rolling in
death she lay. The cave re-echoed to her sighs...
"Peace,,, said Cuthullin, "to the souls of the
heroes ! their deeds were great in fight. Let them
ride around me on clouds. Let them show their
features of war. My soul shall then be firm in
danger; mine arm like the thunder of heaven! But
be thou on a moon -beam, Morna! near the
window of my rest; when my thoughts are of
peace ; when the din of arms is past. Gather the
strength of the tribes ! Move to the wars of Erin!
Attend the car of my battles ! Rejoice in the noise
of my course ! Place three spears by my side :
follow the bounding of my steeds ! that niy soul
may be strong in my friends, when battle darkens
around the beams of my steel ! ..
As rushes a stream of foam from the dark shady
deep of Cromla, when the thunder is travelling
above, and dark- brown night sits on half the hill.
Through the breaches of the tempest look forth the
dim faces of ghosts. So fierce, so vast, so terrible,
rushed on the sons of Erin. The chief, like a
whale of ocean, whom all his billows pursue,
poured valour forth . as a stream . rolling his might
along the shore. The sons of Lochlin heard the
noise, as the sound of a winter- storm. Swaran
struck his bossy shield: he called the son of Arno.
" What murmur rolls along the hill, like the gathered
flies of the eve? The sons of Erin descend, or
rustling winds roar in the distant wood! Such is
the noise of Gormal, before the white tops of my
waves arise. son of Arno 1 ascend the hill; view
the dark face of the heath ! ,.
He went. He trembling swift returned. His eyes
rolled wildly round. His heart beat high against
his side. His words were faltering , broken . slow.
"Arise, son of ocean, arise, chief of the dark-brown
shields! I see the dark, the mountain - stream of