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

5^ T E M O R A:
on high, in mill : then fliews its broad, waving head ; the mufing
hunter hfts his eye from his own rufliy field.
My foul purfues thee, O Fillan, thro' the path of thy fame.
Thou rolledft the foe before thee. — Now Foldath, perhaps, would
fly ; but night came down with its clouds ; and Cathmor's horn
was heard from high. The fons of Morven heard the voice of
Fingal, from Mora's gathered milt. The bards poured their fong,
like dew, on the returning war.
Who comes from Strumon, they faid, amidll her wandering
locks ? She is mournful in her fteps, and lifts her blue eyes towards
Erin, Why art thou fad, Evir-choma* ? Who is like thy chief in
renown .'' He defcended dreadful to battle i he returns, like a light
from a cloud. He lifted the fword in wrath : they fhrunk before
blue-fliielded Gaul !
Jov, like the ruftling gale, comes on the foul of the king. He
remembers the battles of old ; the days, wherein his fathers fought.
The days of old return on Fingal's mind, as he beholds the renown
of his fon. As the fun rejoices, from his cloud, over the tree his
beams have raifed, as it lliakes its lonely head on the heath ; fb joy-
ful is the king over Fillan.
As the rolling of thunder on hills, when Lara's fields are flill
and dark, fuch are the fteps of Morven pleafant and dreadful to the
ear. They return with their found, like eagles to their dark-
browed rock, after the prey is torn on the field, the dun fons of
* Evir choama, t/iill and /iately maid, of Cafdu-ccnglas, chief of I droilo, one
the Wife of (Jau!, She was the daughter of the Hebiid:s.
the