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rustling blasts of the west, unequal rush through night. Long looks the king in silence round: at length his words are heard.

My soul feels a want in our joy. I behold a breach among my friends. The head of one tree is low. The squally wind pours in on Selma. Where is the chief of Dun-lora ? Ought Connal to be forgot at the feast? When did he forget the stranger, in the midst of his echoing hall ? Ye are silent in my presence! Connal is then no more. Joy meet thee, O warrior, like a stream of light. Swift be thy course to thy fathers, along the roaring winds. Ossian, thy soul is fire: kindle the memory of the king. Awake the battles of Connal, when first he shone in war. The locks of Connal were grey. His days of youth as were mixed with mine. In one day Duthcaron first strung our bows against the roes of Dun-lora.”

into the eagle's wing. In the former collection, we heard nothing of this regal plume, and very little of the eagle, an image so repeatedly introduced in Temora; but Macpherson might as well have given his kings and heroes white cockades, as feathers in their bonnets.

25 After the death of Comhal, and during the usurpation of the tribe of Morni, Fingal was educated in private by Duth

Many,” I said, “are our paths to battle, in green vallied Erin. Often did our sails arise, over the blue tumbling waves; when we came, in other days, to aid the race of Conar. The strife roared once in Alnecma, at the foam-covered streams of Duth-úla. With Cormac descended to battle Duthcaron from cloudy Selma.. Nor descended Duthcaron alone, his son was by his side, the long-haired youth of Connal lifting the first of his spears. Thou didst command them, O Fingal, to aid the king of Erin.

“ Like the bursting strength of ocean, the sons of Bolga rushed to war. Colc-ulla was before them, the chief of blue-streaming Atha. The battle was mixed on the plain. Cormac


It was then he contracted that intimacy with Connal, the son of Duthcaron, which occasions his regretting so much his fall. When Fingal was grown up, he soon reduced the tribe of Morni; and, as it appears from the subsequent episode, sent Duthcaron and his son Connal to the aid of Cormac, the son of Conar, king of Ireland, who was driven to the last extremity by the insurrections of the Firbolg. This episode throws farther light on the contests between the Cael and Firbolg. MACPIERSON.

Cormac, the son of Conar, the second king of Ireland, of the race of the Caledonians. This insurrection of the Firbolg happened towards the latter end of the long reign of Cormac. He never possessed the Irish throne peaceably. The party of


shone in his own strife, bright as the forms of his fathers. But, far before the rest, Duthcaron hewed down the foe. Nor slept the arm of Connal by his father's side.

Colc-ulla prevailed on the plain : like scattered mist fled the people of Cormac 27!

the family of Atha had made several attempts to overturn the succession in the race of Conar, before they effected it, in the minority of Cormac, the son of Artho Macpherson.

In these episodes, the translator has given us a new history, not only of Scotland, but of Ireland; to which last, as a requital for our Milesian race, he assigns a series of Caledonian kings. Conar, the son of Trenmor, and brother of the fictitious Trathal, was the first king of Ireland, which was peopled with Cael from Scotland, and from England with Firbolg, or Belgæ, who were also Celts; but whose insurrections against the descendants of Conar required the constant interposition of Fingal. When the translator, and his adherents, are informed, that they have perverted the whole history of Ireland, from which the Highlands of Scotland were more recently peopled, and to which the Fingalian race indisputably belongs, they inveigh loudly against the fabulous history of Ireland, the inhabitants of which must have been ignorant of any traditionary events preceding the introduction of letters by St Patrick. If asked, however, upon what more authentic information their own history of Scotland and Ireland is constructed, they resort to the same Celtic traditions themselves. The early history of the Irish is undoubtedly fabulous: their migration to Argyle, which is attested by Bede, was subsequent to the introduction of letters into Ireland ; but I should be glad to know, at what period of their history the Scottish Highlanders could read and write.

27 The inhabitants of Ullin, or Ulster, who were of the race

“Then rose the sword of Duthcaron, and the steel of broad-shielded Connal. They shaded their flying friends, like two rocks with their heads of pine. Night came down on Duth-ula : silent strode the chiefs over the field. A mountain-stream roared across the path, nor could Duthcaron bound over its course. Why stands my father? said Connal. I hear the rushing foe."

“Fly, Connal,” he said. “Thy father's strength begins to fail. I come wounded from battle. Here let me rest in night.” “But thou shalt not remain alone,” said Connal's bursting sigh. “My shield is an eagle's wing to cover the king of Dun-lora.” He bends dark above his father. The mighty Duthcaron dies.”

Day rose, and night returned. No lonely bard appeared, deep-musing on the heath: and could Connal leave the tomb of his father, till he should receive his fame? He bent the bow against the rose of Duth-ula. He spread the lonely feast.

of the Caledonians, seem alone to have been the firm friends to the succession in the family of Conar. The Firbolg were only subject to them by constraint, and embraced every opportunity to throw off their yoke. MACPHERSON.

“ Like scattered mist fled the people of Ullin.First edit.

Seven nights he laid his head on the tomb, and saw his father in his dreams. He saw him rolled, dark, in a blast, like the vapour of reedy Lego. At length the steps of Colgan


came, the


Colgan, the son of Cathmul, was the principal bard of Cormac, king of Ireland. The following dialogue, on the loves of Fingal and Ros-crana, may be ascribed to him.


By night came a dream to Ros-crána ! I feel my beating soul. No vision of the forms of the dead came to the blue eyes of Erin. But, rising from the wave of the north, I beheld him bright in his locks. I beheld the son of the king. My beating soul is high. I laid my head down in night; again ascended the form. Why delayest thou thy coming, young rider of stormy waves !

But, there, far distant he comes ; where seas roll their green ridges in mist! Young dweller of my soul; why dost thou delay


It was the soft voice of Moi-lena! the pleasant breeze of the valley of roes ! But why dost thou hide thee in shades? Young love of heroes riše. Are not thy steps covered with light ? In thy groves thou appearest, Ros-crána, like the sun in the gathering of clouds. Why dost thou hide thee in shades? Young love of heroes rise.


My fluttering soul is high! Let me turn from the steps of the king. He has heard my secret voice, and shall my blue eyes roll in his presence ? Roe of the hill of moss, toward thy dwelling I move. Meet me, ye breezes of Mora, as I move through the valley of winds. But why should he ascend his ocean! Son of heroes, my soul is thine! My steps shall not move to the desert: the light of Ros-crána is here.

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