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A V O E M, $o$
Momi * fat beneath a tree, at the roaring
Waters of Strumon f ; his locks of age are
grey: he leans forward on his ftaff; young
Gaul is near the hero, hearing the battles of
his father. Often did he rife, in the fire of
his foul, at the mighty deeds of Momi, The
aged heard the found of OfJian's fhield : he
knew the fign of war. He darted at once
from his place. His grey hair parted on his
back. He remembered the deeds of other
years.
" My fon," he faid to fair-haired Gaul,
c< I hear the found of war. The king of
Morven is returned, his fignals are fpread on
the wind. Go to the halls of Strumon ; bring
his arms to Morni. Bring the fhield of my
father's latter years, for my arm begins to fail.
Take thou thy armour, O Gaul ! and rufh to
the firft of thy battles. Let thine arm reach to
the renown of thy fathers. Be thy courfe in
the field* like the eagle's wing. Why fhouldft
thou fear death, my fon ? the valiant fall with
fame ; their fhields turn the dark ftrearn of dan-
ger away ; renown dwells on their aged hairs.
Doft thou not fee, O Gaul ! how the fteps of
my age are honoured ? Morni moves forth,
* Morni was chief of a numerous tribe, in the days of
Fingal, and his father Comhal. The laft-mentioned hero
was killed in battle again ft Morni's tribe ; but the /alour
and conduct of Fingal reduced them, at lad, to obedience.
We find the two heroes perfectly reconciled in this poem.
f Stru'-mone,y?ra7w of the hill. Here the proper name
of a rivulet in the neighbourhood of Selma.
vol. i. x and

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