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Why art thou dark, chief of Clutha! Is there cause for grief?
“Son of Ossian of harps, my soul is darkly sad. I behold the arms of Cathmol, which he raised
Take the mail of Cathlin, place it high in Selma's hall, that thou mayst remember the hapless in thy distant land.” From white breasts descended the mail. It was the race of kings; the soft-handed daughter of Cathmol, at the streams of Clutha! Duth-carmor saw her bright in the hall; he had come, by night, to Clutha. Cathmol met him, in battle, but the hero fell. Three days dwelt the foe with the maid. On the fourth she fled in arms. She remembered the race of kings, and felt her bursting soul !
Why, maid of Toscar of Lutha, should I tell how Cathlin failed ? Her tomb is at rushy Lumon, in a distant land. Near it were the steps of Sul-malla, in the days of grief. She raised the song, for the daughter of strangers, and touched the mournful harp.
Come, from the watching of night, Malvina, lonely beam!
This poem, which, properly speaking, is a continuation of the
last, opens with an address to Sul-malla, the daughter of the king of Inis-huna, whom Ossian met at the chace, as he returned from the battle of Rath-col. Sul-malla invites Ossian and Oscar to a feast, at the residence of her father, who was then absent in the wars. Upon hearing their name and family, she relates an expedition of Fingal into Inis-huna. She casually mentioning Cathmor, chief of Atha (who then assisted her father against his enemies), Ossian introduces the episode of Culgorm and Surandronlo, two Scandinavian kings, in whose wars Ossian himself and Cathmor were engaged on opposite sides. The story is imperfect, a part of the original being lost. Ossian, warned in a dream by the ghost of Trenmor, sets sail from Inis-buna. MACPHERSON.