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host. He struck, at times, his echoing shield. The sound reached Ossian's ear, on Mora's mossy brow.

Fillan,” I said, " the foes advance. I hear the shield of war. Stand thou in the narrow path. Ossian shall mark their course. my fall the host should pour, then be thy buckler heard. Awake the king on his heath, lest his fame should fly away.'

I strode in all my rattling arms; wide-bounding over a stream that darkly-winded, in the field, before the king of Atha. Green Atha's king, with lifted spear, came forward on my course.

Now would we have mixed in horrid fray, like two contending ghosts, that bending forth, from two clouds, send forth the roaring winds; did not Ossian behold, on high, the helmet of Erin's kings. The eagle's wing spread above it, rustling in the breeze 34. A red star looked through the plumes. I stopt the lifted spear.

“ The helmet of kings is before me! Who art

24 The eagle's wing spreads above it, rustling in the breeze.] Infra, iii. 25. Dryden's Æneid, xii. 550.

His crest of horses' hair is blown behind
By adverse air, and rustles in the wind,

thou, son of night? Shall Ossian's spear be renowned, when thou art lowly-laid ?" At once he dropt the gleaming lance. Growing before me seemed the form “5. He stretched his hand in night. He spoke the words of kings.

“Friend of the spirits of heroes, do I meet thee thus in shades? I have wished for thy stately steps in Atha, in the days of joy. Why should my spear now arise ? The sun must behold us, Ossian;

when we bend, gleaming, in the strife*6. Future warriors shall mark the place: and, shuddering, think of other years. They shall mark it, like the haunt of ghosts *7, pleasant and dreadful to the soul."

25 Growing before me seemed the form.) Highlander, i. 221.

Silent the spectre tow'rs before the sight,

And shines an awful image through the night. 26 The sun must behold us, Ossian ; when we bend gleaming in the strife.) Id. i. 255.

The Dane resumes, with the sun's rising beam

We may in fields of death contend for fame. 27 Future warriors shall mark the place ;---shuddering.---They shall mark it like the haunt of ghosts.] “Shewing their pale forms from the chinky rocks.” Supra,. From Mason's Elfrida.

Away, ye goblins all,
Wont the bewilder'd traveller to daunt ;
Whose vagrant feet have traced your secret haunt,

Beside some lonely wall,

“Shall it then be forgot,” I said, “where we meet in peace? Is the remembrance of battles always pleasant to the soul ? Do not we behold, with joy, the place where our fathers feasted ? But our eyes are full of tears, on the fields of their war. This stone shall rise, with all its moss, and speak to other years. Here Cathmor and Ossian met! the warriors met in peace !” When thou, O stone, shalt fail: When Lubar's stream shall roll away! then shall the traveller come, and bend here, perhaps, in rest. When the darkened moon is rolled over his head, our shadowy forms may come, and, mixing with his dreams, remind him of this place *8. But why turnest thou so dark away, son of Borbar-duthul ?”

Or shatter'd ruin of a moss-grown tower,
Where, at pale midnight's stillest hour,
Through cach rough chink the solemn orb of night
Pours momentary gleams of trembling light.

Away! ye elves away ! &c. 28 When the darkened moon is rolled over his head, our shadowy forms may come, and, mixing with his dreams, remind hiro of this place.] As the last was an imitation of Mason’s, so is the present of Milton's fairy elves, or shadowy forms, seen by the belated peasant, or bewildered traveller. Par. Lost, i. 781.

Or fairy elves,
Whose midnight revels, by a forest side,

“Not forgot, son of l'ingal, shall we ascend these winds. Our deeds are streams of light, before the eyes of bards. But darkness is rolled on Atha: the king is low, without his song: still there was a beam towards Cathmor from his stormy soul; like the moon, in a cloud, amidst the dark-red course of thunder."

“Son of Erin,” I replied, “ my wrath dwells not in his earth *9. My hatred flies, on eaglewing, from the foe that is low. He shall hear the song of bards.

of bards. Cairbar shall rejoice on his winds.”

Cathmor's swelling soul arose. He took the dagger from his side, and placed it gleaming in my hand. He placed it in my hand, with sighs, and, silent, strode away. Mine eyes followed his departure. He dimly gleamed, like the form

Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while over-head the moon
Sits arbitress, and, nearer to the earth,

Wheels her pale course. 29 This reply abounds with the sentiments of a noble mind. Though, of all men living, he was the most injured by Cairbar, yet he lays aside his rage, as the foe was low. How different is this from the behaviour of the heroes of other ancient poems ? Cynthius aurem vellit. MACPHERSON.

Touched the ear of the translator himself,

of a ghost, which meets a traveller, by night, on the dark-skirted heath 30. His words are dark like

songs of old : with morning strides the unfinished shade away!

Who 31 comes from Lubar's vale ? From the skirts of the morning mist? The drops of hea

30 Dimly gleamed, like the form of a ghost which meets a traveller by night on the dark-skirted heath.] Highlander, i. 218.

Thus often to the midnight traveller,
The stalking figures of the dead appear.
Silent the spectre towers before the sight,

And shines an awful image through the night. 31 The morning of the second day from the opening of the poem comes on.

After the death of Cuthullin, Carril, the son of Kinfena, his bard, retired to the cave of Tura, which was in the neighbourhood of Moi-lena, the scene of the poem of Temora. His casual appearance here enables Ossian to fulfil immediately the promise he had made to Cathmor, of causing the funeral song to be pronounced over the tomb of Cairbar.— The whole of this passage, together with the address of Carril to the sun, is a lyric measure, and was, undoubtedly, intended as a relief to the mind, after the long narrative which preceded it. Though the lyric pieces, scattered through the poems of Ossian, are certainly very beautiful in the original ; yet they must appear much to disadvantage, stripped of numbers, and the harmony of rhime. In the recitative, or narrative part of the poem, the original is rather a measured sort of

prose,

than

any regular versification; but it has all that variety of cadences, which suit the different ideas, and passions of the speakers. This book takes up only the space of a few hours. MACPHERSON, Ist edit. See the concluding note on the Six Bards.

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