Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

808 THE POEMS OF OSSIAIT.
Dark is the wound of his breast ! " Cruga!," said the
mighty Connal, " son of Dedgal famed on the hill of
hinds ! Why so pale and sad, thou breaker of shields 1
Thou hast never been pale for fear ! What disturbs
the departed Crugal ?" Dim, and in tears he stood,
and stretched his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he
raised his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego.
" My spirit, Connal, is on my hills ; my course on
the sands of Erin. Thou shalt never talk with Crugal,
nor find his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the
blast of Cromla. I move like the shadow of mist !
Connal, son of Colgar, I see a cloud of death : it
hovers dark over the plains of Lena. The sons of
green Erin must fall. Remove from the field of
ghosts." Like the darkened moon he retired, in the
midst of the whistling blast. " Stay," said the mighty
Connal ; " stay, my dark-red friend. Lay by that
beam of heaven, son of windy Cromla ! W'hat cave
is thy lonely house '? What green-headed hill the place
of thy repose ? Shall we not hear thee in the storm ?
in the noise of the mountain-stream ? when the feeble
sons of the wind come forth, and, scarcely seen, pass
over the desert ?"
The soft-voiced Connal rose, in the midst of his
sounding arms. He struck his shield above Cuthullin.
The son of battle waked. " Why," said the ruler of
the car, " comes Connal through my night ? My spear
might turn against the sound, and Cuthullin mourn the
death of his friend. Speak, Connal ; son of Colgar,
speak ; thy counsel is the sun of heaven !" " Son of
Semo !" replied the chief, " the ghost of Crugal came
from his cave. The stars dim twinkled through hia
form. His voice was like the sound of a distant stream
He is a messenger of death ! He speaks of the dark
and narrow house ! Sue for peace, O chief of Erin !
or flv over the heath of Lena !