Ossian Collection > Ossian, his principal poems

ossian's complaint. 305
ing or shame, like a wolf in the glen, running fast to mur-
der the young brood. Rage and fury are rising up behind
the ears of the real dog, opening his babbling, gaping, hard
teeth, to tear my armies to pieces before he shall stop. Be-
hind these two great men, their armies are quickly coming
on, to dishonour the fame of the bards, and wholly to cut
oil the Fingalians.
Inhuman tribe, without mercy, without virtue, Avithout
friendship ; race without love, without compassion, without
victory, is there any praise or valour in murdering the
dead, when there is none of them to oppose you in the com-
bat? Were the Fingalians, as in the years that ai*e past,
drawing near to you on the sloping heath, quickly would
you fly away from their fierce strokes in time of ire.
Conan, the least of the Fingalians, Avould be sufficient to
reduce j'our two leaders into subjection ; both the open-
mouthe<l disfigured bear, and the long-eared dog that sup-
ports him.
But pity it is, hero, that thou hast clothed me in the
filthy garb of the strangers, and that thou hadst not given
sufficient proof to my foes that my own garb was not lost.
In the north a man started up to preserve my people
alive, and wrote the history of my fame anew in mild words,
nut deviating from the truth. Though this day my garment
is old, and torn from side to side, its shape is not yet awk-
ward, and it proves my strength and fame.
Thus, heroic friend, prove thyself Fingal's heir ; tell my
tale, as it was in ancient times, recited in a mild style.
From the east came down, with easy steps, an historian of
elegant voice. From his lips, noble as the dew, and as fresh
virgin-honey drojipiug from the comb, his style is flowing,
metho'Iical, wise, and neat ; melodious is his speech, with
2u