Ossian Collection > Gaelic bards

174 ANCIENT GAELIC BARDS.
But many, many heroes there were dead.
Oh, 't was a grief, an everlasting grief —
A woe to be forgotten never, never !
To look upon that field — the swords, the shields,
That there lay masterless ; the broken spears,
The bloody garments, and the coats of mail,
Borne by brave chiefs unto their last of fields,
From Albin's hills, from homes of Innisgail.
"VVe ne'er had met so dire a day before —
So bloody, so destructive, full of woe —
So joyless and so sad a victory.
Among a thousand warriors stretch 'd and dead
1 found my son, my darling, living yet ;
Resting his head on his left arm he lay,
His broken shield beside him, and his sword
Grasp'd in his terrible and strong right hand.
His blood, his priceless blood, on every side
Flow'd, through his harness, soak'd into the ground,
Unstanch'd and stanchless, from a mortal wound,
I dropp'd my spear upon the earth, and bent
Above him as he lay, and thought — O friend !
How lonely I should be for evermore !
It was a grievous thought. Oscar turned round,
And forth he stretch 'd his hand one other time
To greet me — one long last time ere he died ;
Kindly he look'd, and wished me to draw near.
I seized his hand and knelt upon the ground,
And gave a great and bitter cry of grief.
Then, my dear son, whose life was ebbing fast,
Said, " Joy, dear father, that thou art escaped ! "
And I, I could not speak : but Cailta said —
The noble Cailta come to see my son —
"How dost thou feel thyself, dear friend?" he said.