Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

396 THE POEMS OF OSSIAW.
stretched his hand to the spear : the ghosts of thou,
sands were near, and foresaw the death of the people.
Terrible joy rose in the face of the aged heroes. They
rushed to meet the foe. Their thoughts are on the
deeds of other years : and on the fame that rises from
death !
Now at Trathal's ancient tomb the dogs of the chaso
appeared. Fingal knew that his young heroes follow,
ed. He stopped in the midst of his course. Oscar
appeared the first ; then Morni's son, and Nemi's race.
Fercuth showed his gloomy form. Dermid spread his
dark hair on wind. Ossian came the last. 1 hummed
the song of other times. My spear supported my steps
over the little streams. My thoughts were of mighty
men. Fingal struck his bossy shield, and gave the
dismal sign of war. A thousand swords at once, un-
sheathed, gleam on the waving heath. Three gray-
haired sons of the song raise the tuneful, mournful
voice. Deep and dark, with sounding steps, we rush,
a gloomy ridge, along ; like the shower of the storm
when it pours on a narrow vale.
The king of Morven sat on his hill. The sunbeam
of battle flew on the wind. The friends of his youth
are near, with all their waving locks of age. Joy rose
in the hero's eyes when he beheld his sons in war ;
■when he saw us amidst the lightning of swords, mind-
ful of the deeds of our fathers. Erragon came on, iu
his strength, like the roar of a winter stream. The
battle falls around his steps : death dimly stalks along
by his side.
" Who comes," said Fingal, " like the bounding
roe ; like the hart of echoing Cona ? His shield glit-
ters on his side. The clang of his armor is mournful.
He meets with Erragon in the strife. Behold the
battle of the chiefs ! It is like the contending of ghosts
in a gloomy storm. But fullest thou, son of the hill,