Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

OITHONA 135
heard. " Sleeps the son of Morni, he that was lovely
in the eyes of Oithona? Sleeps Gaul at the distant
rock, and the daughter of Nuath low? The sea rolls
round the dark isle of Tromathon. I sit in my tears in
the cave 1 Nor do I sit alone, O Gaul ! the dark chief
of Cuthal is there. He is there in the rage of his love.
What can Oithona do?"
A rougher blast rushed through the oak. The dream
of night departed. Gaul took his aspen spear. He
sbod in the rage of his soul. Often did his eyes turn
to the east. He accused the lagging light. At length
the morning came forth. The hero lifted up the sail.
Tht winds came rustling from the hill ; he bounded on
the Tvaves of the deep. On the third day arose Tro-
mathon * like a blue shield in the midst of the sea. The
white wave roared against its rocks ; sad Oithona sat
on the coast ! She looked on the rolling waters, and
her tea-s came down. But when she saw Gaul in his
arms, she started and turned her eyes away. Her
lovely cheek is bent and red: her white arm trembles
by her side. Thrice she strove to fly from his presence ;
thrice her steps failed her as she went !
"Daughter of Nuath," said the hero, "why dost
thou fly from Gaul? Do my eyes send forth the flame
of death ? Darkens hatred in my soul ? Thou art to me
the beam of the east, rising in a land unknovm. But
thou coverest thy face with sadness, daughter of car-
borne Nuath 1 Is the foe of Oithona near ? My soul
burns to meet him in fight. The sword trembles by the
side of Gaul, and longs to glitter in his hand. Speak,
daughter of Nuath ! dost thou not behold my tears ? "
"Young chief of Strumon," replied the maid, "why
comest thou over the dark-blue wave, to Nuath's mourn-
ful daughter? Why did I not pass away in secret, like
the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head unseen
* Trom-thon, heavy or deep-soutiding wave.