Ossian Collection > Fingal

F I N G A L.
BOOK VI.
1 he clouds of night come rolling down. Darkness
rests on the steeps of Croinla. The stars of the
north arise over the rolUng of Erin's waves : they
show their heads of fire through the flying mist of
heaven. A distant wind roars in the wood. Silent
and dark is the plain of death! Still on the dusky
Lena arose in my ears the voic« of Carril. He
sung of the friends of our youth; the days of former
years; when we met on the banks of Lego; when
we sent round the joy of the shell. Cromla an-
swered to his voice. The ghosts of those he sung
came in their rustling winds. They were seen to
bend with joy. towards the sound of their praise!
Be thy soul blest, Carril! in the midst of
thy eddying winds. that thou wouldst come
to my hall, when I am alone by night! And
thou dost come, my friend. I hear often thy
light hand on my harp , when it hangs on the
distant wall, and the feeble sound touches my
ear. Why dost thou not speak to me in my grief,
and tell when I shall behold my friends? But
thou passest away in thy murmuring blast; the
wind whistles through the grey hair of Ossian !
Now, on the side of Mora, the heroes gathered
to the feast. A thousand aged oaks are burning
to the wind. The strength of the shells goes round.
The souls of warriors brighten with joy. But the
king of Lochlin is silent. Sorrow reddens in the
eyes of his pride. He often turned toward Lena.
He remembered that he fell. Fingal leaned on the
shield of his fathers. His grey locks slowly waved
on the wind, and glittered to the beam of night.
He saw the grief of Swaran, and spoke to the
first of bards.