comes, with his thousands, towards Seláma's walls.---Colla will meet his pride, and revenge his fon. But where fhall I find thy fafety, Darthula with the dark-brown hair! thou art lovely as the fun-beam of heaven, and thy friends are low!

AND is the fon of battle fallen? I-faid with a burfting figh. Ceafed the generous foul of Truthil to lighten through the field ?---My fafety, Colla, is in that bow; I have learned to pierce the deer. Is not Cairbar like the hart of the defart, father of fallen Truthil?

THE face of age brightened with joy: and the crouded tears of his eyes poured down. The lips of Colla trembled. His gray beard whiftled in the blast. Thou art the fifter of Truthil, he faid, and thou burneft in the fire of his foul. Take, Dar-thula, take that fpear, that brazen fhield, that burnished helmet: they are the fpoils of a warrior: à fon* of early youth.

When the light rifes on Seláma, we go to meet the car-borne Cairbar. But keep thou near the arm of Colla; beneath the fhadow of my thield. Thy father, Dar-thula, could once de

*The poet, to make the ftory of Dar-thula's arming herself for battle, more probable, makes her armour to be that of a very young man, otherwife it would fhock all belief, that she, who was very young, should be able to carry it.

fend

fend thee; but age is trembling on his hand. The ftrength of his arm has failed, and his foul. is darkened with grief.

WE paffed the night in forrow. The light of morning rofe. I fhone in the arms of battle. The gray-haired hero moved before. The fons of Seláma convened around the founding fhield of Colla. But few were they in the plain, and their locks were gray. The youths had fallen with Truthil, in the battle of car-borne Cormac.

COMPANIONS of my youth! faid Colla, it was not thus you have seen me in arms. It was not thus I ftrode to battle, when the great Confadan fell. But ye are laden with grief. The darkness of age comes like the mift of the defart. My fhield is worn with years; my fword is fixed in its place. I faid to my foul, thý evening fhall be calm, and thy departure like a fading light. But the ftorm has returned; I bend like an aged oak. My boughs are fallen on Seláma, and I tremble in my place. Where art thou, with thy fallen heroes, O my car-borne Truthil! Thou answereft not from thy rufhing blaft; and the foul of thy father is fad.

* It was the custom of thofe times, that every warrior at a certain age, or when he became unfit for the field, fixed his arms, in the great hall, where the tribe feafted, upon joyful occafions. He was afterwards never to appear in battle, and this stage of life called the time of fixing of the arms.

was

But

.

But I will be fad no more, Cairbar or Colla muft fall. I feel the returning ftrength of my arm. My heart leaps at the found of battle.

THE hero drew his fword. The gleaming blades of his people rofe. They moved along the plain. Their gray hair ftreamed in the wind.---Cairbar fat, at the feaft, in the filent plain of Lona *. He faw the coming of the heroes, and he called his chiefs to battle.

WHY fhould I tell to Nathos, how the ftrife of battle grew! I have seen thee, in the midst of thousands, like the beam of heaven's fire; it is beautiful, but terrible; the people fall in its red courfe. The fpear of Colla flew, for he remembered the battles of his youth. An arrow came with its found, and pierced, the hero's fide. He fell on his echoing shield. My soul started with fear; I ftretched my buckler over him; but my heaving breaft was feen.

*Lona, a marfy plain. It was the cuftom, in the days of Offian, to feaft after a victory. Cairbar had juft provided an entertainment for his army, upon the defeat of Truthil the fon of Colla, and the reft of the party of Cormac, when Colla and his aged warriors arrived to give him battle.

†The poet avoids the description of the battle of Lona, as it would be improper in the mouth of a woman, and could have nothing new, after the numerous descriptions, of that kind, in his other poems. He, at the fame time, gives an opportunity to Dar-thula to pass a fine compliment on her lover.

Cairbar came, with his fpear, and he beheld Seláma's maid: joy rofe on his dark-brown face; he stayed the lifted fteel. He raised the tomb of Colla; and brought me weeping to Seláma. He spoke the words of love, but my foul was fad. I saw the fhields of my fathers, and the sword of car-borne Truthil. I faw the arms of the dead, and the tear was on my cheek.

THEN thou didst come, O Nathos: and gloomy Cairbar fled. He fled like the ghoft of the defart before the morning's beam. His hofts were not near: and feeble was his arm against thy fteel.

WHY * art thou fad, O Nathos? faid the lovely maid of Colla.

I HAVE met, replied the hero, the battle in my youth. My arm could not lift the fpear, when first the danger rofe; but my foul brightened before the war, as the green narrow vale, when the fun pours his freamy beams, before he hides his head in a ftorm. My foul brightened in danger before I faw Seláma's fair; before I faw thee, like a ftar, that shines on the hill, at night; the cloud flowly comes, and threatens the lovely light,

*It is ufual with Offian, to repeat, at the end of the episodes, the sentence which introduced them. It brings back the mind of the reader to the main ftory of the poem.

WE are in the land of the foe, and the winds have deceived us, Dar-thula! the ftrength of our friends is not near, nor the mountains of Etha. Where fhall I find thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla! The brothers of Nathos are brave and his own fword has fhone in war. But what are the fons of Ufnoth to the hoft of car-borne Cairbar! O that the winds had brought thy fails, Ofcar king of men! thou didft promife to come to the battles of fallen Cormac Then would my hand be strong as the flaming arm of death. Cairbar would tremble in his halls, and peace dwell round the lovely Dar-thula. But why doft thou fall, my foul? The fons of Ufnoth may prevail.

AND they will prevail, O Nathos, faid the rifing foul of the maid: never fhall Dar-thula behold the halls of gloomy Cairbar. Give me thofe arms of brafs, that glitter to that paffing meteor; I fee them in the dark-bofomed fhip. Dar-thula will enter the battle of fteel.---Ghoft of the noble Colla! do I behold thee on that cloud? Who is that dim befide thee? It is the car-borne Truthil, Shall I behold the halls of

* Ofcar, the son of Offian, had long refolved on the expedition, into Ireland, against Cairbar, who had affaffinated his friend Cathol, the fon of Moran, an Irishman of noble extraction, and in the intereft of the family of Cormac.