"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 Connál 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

28

came, the

28 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.

ROS-CRANA.

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-

FINGAL.

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 rise. 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.

ROS-CRANA.

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.

bard of high Temora. Duthcaron received his fame, and brightened as he rose on the wind."

“Pleasant to the ear," said Fingal, “is the praise of the kings of men; when their bows are strong in battle; when they soften at the sight of the sad. Thus let my name be renowned, when bards shall lighten my rising soul. Carril, son of Kinfena! take the bards and raise a tomb. Tonight let Connal dwell within his narrow house. Let not the soul of the valiant wander on the winds. Faint glimmers the moon on Moi-lena, through the broad-headed groves of the hill! Raise stones, beneath its beam, to all the fallen in war. Though no chiefs were they, yet their hands were strong in fight. They were my rock in danger. The mountain from which I spread

FINGAL.

It was the light tread of a ghost, the fair dweller of eddying winds. Why deceivest thou me with thy voice? Here let me rest in shades. Shouldst thou stretch thy white arm from thy grove, thou sun-beam of Cormac of Erin!

ROS-CRANA.

He is gone! and my blue eyes are dim; faint-rolling, in all my tears. But there I behold him, alone; king of Selma, my Ah me! what clanging of armour! Colc-ulla of MACPHERSON.

soul is thine.

Atha is near!

my eagle-wings. Thence am I renowned. Carril, forget not the low!"

Loud, at once, from the hundred bards, rose the song of the tomb. Carril strode before them, they are the murmur of streams behind his steps. Silence dwells in the vales of Moi-lena, where each, with its own dark rill, is winding between the hills. I heard the voice of the bards, lessening, as they moved along. I leaned forward from my shield; and felt the kindling of my soul. Half-formed, the words of my song burst forth upon the wind. So hears a tree, on the vale, the voice of spring around. It pours its green leaves to the sun. It shakes its lonely

head 9. The hum of the mountain-bee is near it; the hunter sees it, with joy, from the blasted heath.

Young Fillan at a distance stood. His helmet

29 It pours its green leaves to the sun. It shakes its lonely head.] The former simile inverted: "As the sun rejoices over the tree his beams have raised, as it shakes its lonely head on the heath." Supra, 23. But Ossian hearing the voice of the bards, as a tree hears the voice of spring around; the half-formed words of his song bursting forth, like the green leaves which it pours to the sun, are sounding similes without the least resemblance. That, however, was the last circumstance which the poet consulted.

lay glittering on the ground. His dark hair is loose to the blast. A beam of light is Clatho's son! He heard the words of the king with joy. He leaned forward on his spear.

My son," said car-borne Fingal, "I saw thy deeds, and my soul was glad. The fame of our fathers, I said, burst from its gathering cloud. Thou art brave, son of Clatho; but headlong in the strife. So did not Fingal advance, though he never feared a foe. Let thy people be a ridge behind. They are thy strength in the field. Then shalt thou be long renowned, and behold the tombs of the old. The memory of the past returns, my deeds in other years; when first I descended from ocean on the green-vallied isle."

We bend towards the voice of the king. The moon looks abroad from her cloud. The greyskirted mist is near; the dwelling of the ghosts!

BO