Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

TEMORA. 457
hunter slept ; he lay upon his shiuld. No blast came
over the heath unknown to bounding Bran.
Cathmor saw the white-breasted dog ; he saw the
broken shield. Darkness is blown back on his soul ;
lie remembers the falling away of the people. They
came, a stream ; are rolled away ; another race suc-
ceeds. But some mark the fields, as they pass, with
their own mighty names. The heath, through dark-
orown years, is theirs ; some blue stream winds to
their fame. Of these be the chief of Atha, when he
lays him down on earth. Often may the voice of future
limes meet Cathmor in the air ; when he strides from
wind to wind, or folds himself in the wing of a storm.
Green Erin gathered round the king to hear the
foice of his power. Their joyful faces bend unequal,
forward, in the light of the oak. They who were ter-
rible, were removed ; Lubar winds again in their host.
Cathmor was that beam from heaven, which shone
when his people were dark. He was honored in the
midst. Their souls arose with ardor around. The
king alone no gladness showed j no stranger he to
war !
" Why is the king so sad ?" said Malthos, eagle-
eyed. " Remains there a foe at Lubar ? Lives there
among them Avho can lift the spear ? Not so peaceful
was thy father, Borbar-duihul, king of spears. His
rage was a fire that always burned : his joy over fallen
foes was great. Three days feasted the gray-haired
hero, when he heard that Calmar fell : Calmar who
aided the race of Ullin, from Lara of the streams.
Often did he feel, with his hands, the steel which they
said had pierced his foe. He felt it with his hands,
for Borbar-duthul's eyes had failed. Yet was the king
a sun to his friends ; a gale to lift their branches
round. Joy was around him in his halls : he loved
the sons of Bolga. His name remains in Atha, like
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