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

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C A T H - L O D A:
OEM.
DUAN THIRD.
T Hence is the ftream of years ? Whither do they roll along ?
Where have they hid, in mift, their many-coloured iides ?
I look into the times of old, but they feem dim to Offian's eyes,
like reflefted moon-beams, on a diflant lake. Here rife the red
beams of war ! — There, filent, dwells a feeble race ! They mark
no years with their deeds, as flow they pafs along. — Dweller be-
tween the fliields ; thou that awakeft the failing foul, defcend from
thy wall, harp of Cona, with thy voices three ! Come with that
which kindles the paft ; rear the forms of old, on their own dark-
brown years !
* Uthorno, hill of Aorms, I behold my race on thy fide.
Fingal is bending, in night, over Duth-maruno's tomb. Near
him
* The bards, who were always ready to poems of Offian, have inferted a great ma-
fupply what they thouijht deficient in the iiy incidents between the fecond and third
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