Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

FINGAL 93
Who comes with the locks of age ? It is the son of
songs. " Hail, Carril of other times ! Thy voice is like
the harp in the halls of Tura. Thy words are pleasant
as the shower which falls on the sunny field. Carril of
the times of old, why comest thou from the son of the
generous Semo ? "
"Ossian, king of swords," replied the bard, "thou
best can raise the song. Long hast thou been known
to Carril, thou ruler of war 1 Often have I touched the
harp to lovely Everallin. Thou too hast often joined my
voice, in Branno's hall of generous shells. And often,
amidst our voices, was heard the mildest Everallin.
One day she sung of Cormac's fall, the youth who died
for her love. I saw the tears on her cheek, and on
thine, thou chief of men I Her soul was touched for the
unhappy, though she loved him not. How fair among a
thousand maids was the daughter of generous Branno 1 "
" Bring not, Carril," I replied, " bring not her
memory to my mind. My soul must melt at the re-
membrance. My eyes must have their tears. Pale in
< he earth is she, the softly-blushing fair of my love I
But sit thou on the heath, O bard I and let us hear thy
voice. It is pleasant as the gale of spring, that sighs
on the hunter's ear ; when he awakens from dreams of
joy, and has heard the music of the spirits of the hill ! "