Ossian Collection > Life and letters of James Macpherson

6 JAMES MACPHERSON.
" The king heard the music of harps, the
tales of other times ! The chiefs gathered
from all their hills, and heard the lovely sound.
They praised the voice of Cona ! the first
among a thousand bards ! But age is now
on my tongue ; my soul has failed 1 I hear, at
times, the ghosts of bards, and learn their plea-
sant song. But memory fails on my mind. I
hear the call of years ! They say, as they pass
along, why does Ossian sing ? Soon shall he
lie in the narrow house, and no bard shall raise
his fame ! Roll on, ye dark- brown years ; ye
bring no joy on your course ! Let the tomb
open to Ossian, for his strength has failed. The
sons of song are gone to rest. My voice remains,
like a blast, that roars, lonely, on a sea-surrounded
rock, after the winds are laid. The dark moss
whistles there ; the distant mariner sees the
waving trees ! "
A daughter alone is left to him, the widow of
Oscar his son ; and when " the awful faces of
other times look down on him from the clouds,"
he tells her of the great deeds he has seen, and
the mighty who have fallen.
"Such were the words of the bards, in the day
of their mourning : Ossian often joined their
voice ; and added to their song. My soul has
been mournful for Carthon ; he fell in the days
of his youth ; and thou, O Clessammor ! where
is thy dwelling in the wind? Has the youth
forgot his wound ? Flies he, on clouds, with
thee ? I feel the sun, O Malvina ! leave me to
my rest. Perhaps they may come to my dreams ;