Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

138 OSSIAN
heath, in the battle of car-borne Lathmon ; when the
sword of Morni's son pursued his host, in Morven's
woody land. Dunrommath ! thy words are mighty, for
thy warriors gather behind thee. But do I fear them,
son of pride ? I am not of the race of the feeble ! "
Gaul advanced in his arms ; Dunrommath shrunk
behind his people. But the spear of Gaul pierced the
gloomy chief ; his sword lopped off his head, as it
bended in death. The son of Morni shook it thrice by
the lock : the warriors of Dunrommath fled. The
arrows of Morven pursued them : ten fell on the mossy
rocks. The rest lift the sounding sail, and bound on the
troubled deep. Gaul advanced towards the cave of
Oithona. He beheld a youth leaning on a rock. An
arrow had pierced his side ; his eye rolled faintly
beneath his helmet. The soul of Morni's son was sad,
he came and spoke the words of peace.
"Can the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the
mournful brow? I have searched for the herbs of the
mountains ; I have gathered them on the secret banks
of their streams. My hand has closed the wound of the
brave, their eyes have blessed the son of Morni.
Where dwelt thy fathers, warrior ? Were they of the
sons of the mighty ? Sadness shall come, like night, on
thy native streams. Thou art fallen in thy youth ! "
" My fathers," replied the stranger, " were of the
race of the mighty ; but they shall not be sad ; for my
fame is departed like morning mist. High walls rise on
the banks of Duvranna ; and see their mossy towers
in the stream ; a rock ascends behind them with its
bending pines. Thou mayest behold it far distant.
There my brother dwells. He is renowned in battle :
give him this glittering helm."
The helmet fell from the hand of Gaul. It was the
wounded Oithona ! She had armed herself in the cave
and came in search of death. Her heavy eyes are
half closed ; the blood pours from her heaving side.