Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

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Do I meet thee, with a fpear, on thy cloud,
Spirit of difmal Loda ? Why then doft thou
frown on me ? why fhake thine airy fpear ?
Thou frowneft in vain : I never fled from the
mighty m war. And (hall the fons of the
wind frighten the king of Morven ? No : he
knows the weaknefe of their arms !
Fly to thy land, replied the form : receive
the wind, and fly ! The blafts are in the hol-
low of my hand ; the courfe of the ftorm is
mine. The king of Sora is my fon, he bends
at the (tone of my power. His battle is
around Carric-thura ; and he will prevail !
Fly to thy land, fon of Comhal, or feel my
flaming wrath i
He lifted high his fhadowy fpear ! He bent
forward his dreadful height. Fingal, ad-
vancing, drew his fword ; the blade of dark*
brown Luno *. The gleaming path of the
fleel winds through the gloomy ghoft. The
form fell (hapelefs into air, like a column of
fmoke, which the ftaff of the boy difturbs, as
it rifes from the half- extinguished furnace.
The fpirit of Loda fhrieked, as, rolled into
himfelf, he rofe on the wind. Iniftore Ihook
at the found. The waves heard it on the
deep. They flopped, in their courfe, with
fear : the friends of Fingal ftarted, at once ;
and took their heavy fpears. They miffed
the king : they rofe in rage ; all their arms
reibund !
* The famous fword of Fingal, made by Lun, or
JLuno, a fmith of Lochlin.
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