Ossian Collection > Report of the Committee of the Highland Society of Scotland, appointed to inquire into the nature and authenticity of the poems of Ossian

OF PASSAGES» |
As their swords were subduing the mighty.
My father was driving the battle
Where it pressed the most ;
Nor from him did bodily form retire unmanned,
In the light of his steps I strove to follow.
But frail is my strength to-night
When I recount the warlike bands :
I have lost the sight of my eyes ;
I am old, slow, and forlorn !"
The sound of all our strokes was heard
Like the burst of a billow in the day of the fatal storm,
Many were the arms and legs which were severed,
Many the limbs which keen-edged swords did mangle,
When the valiant of the people, pressed by strokes,
Sunk on the sward, never more to arise.
* * *
Son of my son ! said the king,
Oscar, chief of the generous youth !
1 saw the gleaming of thy sword,
And I gloried to see thee victorious in the battle,
Tread close on the fame of thy fathers,
And cease not to be as they have been.
When Trenmor of glorious deeds did live,
And Trathal the father of heroes,
They fought every battle with success,
wrath, consumed the sons of Lochlui ?
* # #
" Son of my son," begun the king, " Oscar, pride of
youth ! I saw the shining of thy sword. I gloried in my
race. Pursue the fame of our fathers ; be thou what
they have been, when Trenmor lived, the first of men,
and Trathal the father of heroes! They fought the
battle in their youth. They are the song of bards.