Ossian Collection > Temora, an ancient epic poem, in eight books

An epic P O E M. 17
The valiant mufl: fixll one day, and be no more known on his hills,
— Where are our fathers, O warriors ! the chiefs of the times of
old ? They have fet like ftars that have fhone, we only hear the
found of their praife. But they were renowned in their day, the
terror of other times. Thus fliall we pafs, O warriors, in the day
of our fall. Then let us be renowned when we may; and leave
our fame behind us, like the lafl beams of the fun, v.hen he hides
his red head in the wefl.
Ullin, my aged bard! take the fliip of the king. Carry Ofcar
to Selma of harps. Let the daughters of Morven weep. We fliall
fight in Erin for the race of fallen Cormac. The days of my years
begin to fail : I feel the weaknefs of my arm. My fathers bend
from their clouds, to receive their grey-hair'd fon. But, before I
go hence, one beam of fame fliall rife : fo fhall my days end, as
my years begun, in fame : my life fhall be one ftream of light to
bards of other times.
UrtiNT rais'd his white fails : the wind of the fouth came forth.
He bounded on the waves towards Selma. — * I remained in my
grief, but my words were not heard. The feaft is fpread on
Moi-lena : an hundred heroes reared the tomb of Cairbar : but no
fong is raifed over the chief; for his foul had been dark and bloody.
The bards remembered the fall of Cormac ! what could they fay in
Cairbar's praife ?
The night came rolling down. The light of an hundred oaks
arofe. Fingal fat beneath a tree. Old Althan -f flood in the midfl.
He
* The poet fpeaks in his own perfon. chief bard of Arth king of Ireland. After
t AUhan, the fon of Conachar, was the the death of Arth, Althan attended his fon
D Cor-