Ossian Collection > Poems of Ossian

A P O E M. 345
mud not hear of his wound ['' Why doft thou
look towards the defert, mother of low-laid
Calmar?
Such was the fong of Carril, when Cuthul-
lin lay on his ihield. The hards refted on their
harps. Sleep fell foftly around. The fon of
Semo was awake alone. His foul was fixed
on war. The burning oaks began to decay.
Faint red light is fpread around. A feeble
voice is heard ! The ghoft of Calmar came !
He ftalked dimly along the beam. Dark is
the wound in his fide. His hair is difordered
and loofe. Joy fits pale on his face. He
Teems to invite Cuthullin to his cave.
" Son of the cloudy night !" faid the rifing
chief of Erin. " Why doft thou bend thy
dark eyes on me, ghoft of the noble Calmar?
Wouldeft thou frighten me, O Matha's fon !
from the battles of Cormac ? Thy hand was
not feeble in war : neither was thy voice for
peace. Flow art thou changed, chief of Lara !
if thou now doft advife to fly ! But, Calmar,
I never fled. I never feared the ghofts of
night. Small is their knowledge, weak their
hands ; their dwelling is in the wind. But
my foul grows in danger, and rejoices in
the noife of fteel. Retire thou to thy cave.
Thou art not Calmar's ghoft. He delighted
in battle. His arui was like the thunder of
heaven I" He retired in his blaft with joy, for
he had heard the voice of his praife.
The faint beam of the morning rofe. The
found of Caithbat's buckler fpread. Green
Erin's