Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

CARRIC-THURA 165
of Rinval ; that shield like the full-orbed moon, when
she moves darkened through heaven.
CRIMORA.
That shield I bring, O Connal ! but it did not defend
my father. By the spear of Gormar he fell. Thou
may'st fall, O Connal !
CONNAL.
Fall I may ! But raise my tomb, Crimora ! Grey
stones, a mound of earth, shall send my name to other
times. Bend thy red eye over my grave, beat thy
mournful heaving breast. Though fair thou art, my
love, as the light ; more pleasant than the gale of the
hill ; yet I wall not here remain. Raise my tomb,
Crimora !
CRIMORA.
Then give me those arms that gleam ; that sword,
and that spear of steel. I shall meet Dargo with
Connal, and aid him in the fight. Farewell, ye rocks
of Ardven ! ye deer ! and ye streams of the hill ! We
shall return no more. Our tombs are distant far !
"And did they return no more?" said Utha's burst-
ing sigh. "Fell the mighty in battle, and did Crimora
live ? Her steps were lonely ; her soul was sad for
Connal. Was he not young and lovely ; like the beam
of the setting sun ? "
Ullin saw the virgin's tear, he took the softly-
trembling harp : the song was lovely, but sad, and
silence was in Carric-thura.
Autumn is dark on the mountains ; grey mist rests on
the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark
rolls the river through the narrow plain. A tree stands
alone on the hill, and marks the slumbering Connal.
The leaves whirl round with the wind, and strew the