Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

92 OSSIAN
rest, O Ryno I on Lena. We too shall be no more.
Warriors one day must fall I " *
Such was thy grief, thou king of swords, when Ryno
lay on earth. What must the grief of Ossian be, for
thou thyself art gone I I hear not thy distant voice on
Cona. My eyes perceive thee not. Often forlorn and
dark I sit at thy tomb ; and feel it with my hands.
When I think I hear thy voice, it is but the passing
blast. Fingal has long since fallen asleep, the ruler of
the war !
Then Gaul and Ossian sat with Swaran, on the soft
green banks of Lubar. I touched the harp to please the
king. But gloomy was his brow. He rolled his red
eyes towards Lena. The hero mourned his host. I
raised mine eyes to Cromla's brow. I saw the son of
generous Semo. Sad and slow, he retired, from his
hill, towards the lonely cave of Tura. He saw Fingal
victorious, and mixed his joy with grief. The sun is
bright on his armour. Connal slowly strode behind.
They sunk behind the hill, like two pillars of the fire of
night: when winds pursue them over the mountain, and
the flaming heath resounds! Beside a stream of roaring
foam his cave is in a rock. One tree bends above it.
The rushing winds echo against its sides. Here rests
the chief of Erin, the son of generous Semo. His
thoughts are on the battles he lost. The tear is on his
cheek. He mourned the departure of his fame, that fled
like the mist of Cona. O Bragela! thou art too far
remote, to cheer the soul of the hero. But let him see
thy bright form in his mind : that his thoughts may
return to the lonely sunbeam of his love I
* This beautiful, though mournful, tale or episode, is the
composition of the Irish bard Ullin — Ulster — the friend of
Fingal. It appears by this episode that whilst Lamderg fought
with Ulfada — chief of the O'Neills — his wife was carried off by
Ullin, the son of Ulfada. Ullin, or Ulster, was the title of the
eldest son of the O'Neills, kings of Ulster. C.