Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

28 OSS I AN
FINGAL.
Come to the cave of my rest. The storm is past,
the sun is on our fields. Come to the cave of my rest,
huntress of echoing Ardven !
COMALA.
He is returned with his fame ! I feel the right hand
of his wars ! But I must rest beside the rock till my
soul returns from my fear ! O let the harp be near !
raise the song, ye daughters of Morni !
DERSAGRENA.
Comala has slain three deer on Ardven, the fire ascends
on the rock ; go to the feast of Comala, king of the
woody Morven I
FINGAL.
Raise, ye sons of song, the wars of the streamy
Carun ; that my white-handed maid may rejoice : while
I behold the feast of my love.
BARDS.
Roll, streamy Carun, roll in joy, the sons of battle
fled I The steed is not seen on our fields ; the wings *
of their pride spread in other lands. The sun will now
rise in peace, and the shadows descend in joy. The
voice of the chase will be heard : the shields hang in
the hall. Our delight will be in the war of the ocean,
our hands shall grow red in the blood of Lochlin. Roll,
streamy Carun, roll in joy, the sons of battle fled !
MELILCOMA.
Descend, ye light mists from high ! Ye moon-beams,
lift her soul ! Pale lies the maid at the rock ! Comala
is no more !
* Perhaps the poet alludes to the Roman eagle.