Ossian Collection > Ossian, his principal poems

ODE TO OSSIAN*. 299
Again inspir'd with glor^-'s charms,
The fiery warriors call to arms,
To wdn immortal praise ;
Each hopes to gain a deathless name,
To live renown'd, or die with fame,
The theme of future days.
Each grasps his sword, each shakes his moony shield.
And tlie bright mail pours lightning o'er the field.
Softer now thy numbers flow,
Slowly rolls the plaintive strain ;
See, the first of heroes low !
See, the mighty Morar slain !
From the tender virgin's eyes
Fall the pearly drops of woe ;
See, her bosom throbs with sighs,
Sorrow swells her breast of snow.
Yon mossy stones that rise above the heath,
Beside the blasted oak that towers on high,
Mark to the hunter's view the cave of death,
Where chiefs renown'd in former ages lie :
There rests brave Morar ! — thy untimely doom,
Thy aged sire and mournful friends deplore.
How vain their sorrow ! — in the silent tomb
The mighty Morar sleeps^ to rise no more !