grandeur, which is the great design of machinery. As Ossian's mythology is peculiar to himself, and makes a considerable figure in his other poems, as well as in Fingal, it may be proper to make some observations on it, independent of its subserviency to epic composition.. It turns, for the most part, on the appearances of departed spirits. These, consonantly to the notions of every rude age, are represented not as purely immaterial, but as thin airy forms, which can be visible or invisible at pleasure: their voice is feeble, their arm is weak; but they are endowed with knowledge more than human. In a separate state, they retain the same dispositions which animated them in this life. They ride on the wind; they bend their airy bows; and pursue deer formed of clouds. The ghosts of departed bards continue to sing. The ghosts of departed heroes frequent the fields of their former fame. They rest together in their caves, and talk of mortal men. Their songs are of other worlds. They come sometimes to the ear of rest, and raise their feeble voice.' All this presents to us much the same set of ideas, concerning spirits, as we find in the eleventh book of the Odyssey, where Ulysses visits the regions of the dead; and in the twenty-third book of the Iliad, the ghost of Patroclus, after appearing ⚫ to Achilles, vanishes precisely like one of Ossian's, emitting a shrill, feeble cry, and melting away like smoke. But though Homer's and Ossian's ideas concerning ghosts were of the same nature, we cannot but observe, that Ossian's ghosts are drawn with much stronger and livelier colours than those of Homer. Ossian describes ghosts with all the particularity of one who had seen and conversed with them, and whose imagination was full of the impression they had left upon it. He calls up those awful and tremendous ideas which the - Simulacra modis pallentia miris are fitted to raise in the human mind; and which, in Shakspeare's style, 'harrow up the soul.' Crugal's ghost, in particular, in the beginning of the second book of Fingal, may vie with any appearance of this kind, described by any epic or tragic poet whatever. Most poets would have contented themselves with telling us, that he resembled,|| in every particular, the living Crugal; that his form and dress were the same, only his face more pale and sad; and that he bore the mark of the wound by which he fell. But Ossian sets before our eyes a spirit from the invisible world, distinguished by all those features which a strong astonished imagination would give to a ghost. 'A dark-red stream of fire comes down from the hill. Crugal sat upon the beam; he that lately fell by the hand of Swaran, striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting moon. His robes are of the clouds of the hill. His eyes are like two decaying flames. Dark is the wound of his breast. The stars dim - twinkled through his form; and his voice was like the sound of a distant stream.' The circumstance of the stars being beheld, "dimtwinkling through his form, is wonderfully picturesque; and conveys the most lively impression of his thin and shadowy substance. The attitude in which he is afterwards placed, and the speech put into his mouth, are full of that solemn and awful sublimity, which suits the subject. ‘Dim, and in tears, he stood, and stretched his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he raised his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego. My ghost, O Connal! is on my native hills: but my corse is on the sands of Ullin. Thou shalt never talk with Cruga), or find his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla; and I move like the shadow of mist. Connal, son of Colgar; I see the dark cloud of death. It hovers over the plains of Lena. The sons of green Erin shall fall. Remove from the field of ghosts. Like the darkened moon he retired in the midst of the whistling blast.' Several other appearances of spirits might be pointed out, as among the most sublime passages of Ossian's poetry. The circumstances of them are considerably diversified ; and the scenery always suited to the occasion. 'Oscar slowly ascends the hill. The meteors of night set on the heath before him. A distant torrent faintly roars. Unfrequent blasts rush through aged rocks. The half-enlightened moon sinks dim and red behind her hill. Feeble voices are heard on the heath. Oscar drew his sword.' Nothing can prepare the fancy more happily for the awful scene that is to follow. "Trenmor came from his hill, at the voice of his mighty son. A cloud, like the steed of the stranger, supported his airy limbs. His robe is of the mist of Lano, that brings death to the people. His sword is a green meteor, half-extinguished. His face is without form, and dark. He sighed thrice over the hero: and thrice the winds of the night roared around. Many were his words to Oscar.He slowly vanished, like a mist that melts on the sunny hill.' To appearances of this kind, we can find no parallel among the Greek or Roman poets. They bring to mind that noble description in the book of Job: 'In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face. The hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still: but I could not discern the form thereof. An image was ⚫ before mine eyes. There was silence; and I heard a voice-Shall mortal man be more just than God?' joy; for he had heard the voice of his praise.' This is precisely the ghost of Achilles in Homer; who, notwithstanding all the dissatisfaction he expresses with his state in the region of the dead, as soon as he had heard his son Neoptolemus praised for As Ossian's supernatural beings are de- his gallant behaviour, strode away with scribed with a surprising force of imagi- silent joy to rejoin the rest of the shades. nation, so they are introduced with propriety. It is a great advantage of Ossian's myWe have only three ghosts in Fingal: that thology, that it is not local and temporary, of Crugal, which comes to warn the host like that of most other ancient poets; which of impending destruction, and to advise them of course is apt to seem ridiculous, after to save themselves by retreat; that of Evir- the superstitions have passed away on which allin, the spouse of Ossian, which calls him it was founded. Ossian's mythology is, to to rise and rescue their son from danger; speak so, the mythology of human nature, and that of Agandecca, which, just before for it is founded on what has been the the last engagement with Swaran, moves popular belief, in all ages and countries, Fingal to pity, by mourning for the ap- and under all forms of religion, concerning proaching destruction of her kinsmen and the appearances of departed spirits. Homer's people. In the other poems, ghosts sometimes machinery is always lively and amusing; appear when invoked to foretel futurity; but far from being always supported with frequently, according to the notions of these proper dignity. The indecent squabbles times, they come as forerunners of mis- among his gods, surely do no honour to fortune or death, to those whom they visit; epic poetry. Whereas Ossian's machinery sometimes they inform their friends at a has dignity upon all occasions. It is indeed distance, of their own death; and sometimes a dignity of the dark and awful kind; but they are introduced to heighten the scenery this is proper; because coincident with the on some great and solemn occasion. A strain and spirit of the poetry. A light hundred oaks burn to the wind; and faint and gay mythology, like Homer's, would light gleams over the heath. The ghosts of have been perfectly unsuitable to the subArdven pass through the beam; and showjects on which Ossian's genius was employed. their dim and distant forms. Comala is halfunseen on her meteor; and Hidallan is sullen and dim.' 'The awful faces of other times looked from the clouds of Crona.' Fercuth! I saw the ghost of night. Silent he stood on that bank; his robe of mist flew on the wind. I could behold his tears. An aged man he seemed, and full of thought.' The ghosts of strangers mingle not with those of the natives. She is seen; but not like the daughters of the hill. Her robes are from the strangers' land; and she is still alone.' When the ghost of one whom we had formerly known is introduced, the propriety of the living character is still preserved. This is remarkable in the appearance of Calmar's ghost, in the poem entitled, The Death of Cuthullin. He seems to forebode Cuthullin's death, and to beckon him to his cave. Cuthullin reproaches him for supposing that he could be intimidated by such prognostics. 'Why dost thou bend thy dark eyes on me, ghost of the carborne Calmar? Wouldst thou frighten me, O Matha's son! from the battles of Cormac? Thy hand was not feeble in war; neither was thy voice for peace. How art thou changed, chief of Lara! if now thou dost advise to fly! Retire thou to thy cave: thou art not Calmar's ghost: he delighted in battle; and his arm was like the thunder of heaven.' Calmar makes no return to this seeming reproach: but, ‘He retired in his blast with But though his machinery be always solemn, it is not, however, always dreary or dismal; it is enlivened, as much as the subject would permit, by those pleasant and beautiful appearances, which he sometimes introduces of the spirits of the hill. These are gentle spirits; descending on sunbeams, fair moving on the plain; their forms white and bright; their voices sweet; and their visits to men propitious. The greatest praise that can be given to the beauty of a living woman, is to say, 'She is fair as the ghost of the hill, when it moves in a sunbeam at noon, over the silence of Morven.' 'The hunter shall hear my voice from his booth. He shall fear, but love my voice. For sweet shall my voice be for my friends; for pleasant were they to me.' Besides ghosts, or the spirits of departed men, we find in Ossian some instances of other kinds of machinery. Spirits of a superior nature to ghosts are sometimes alluded to, which have power to embroil the deep; to call forth winds and storms, and pour them on the land of the stranger; to overturn forests, and to send death among the people. We have prodigies too; a shower of blood; and when some disaster is befalling at a distance, the sound of death heard on the strings of Ossian's harp: all perfectly consonant, not only to the peculiar ideas of northern nations, but to the general current of a superstitious imagination in all countries. The description of Fingal's airy hall, in the poem called Berrathon, and of the ascent of Malvina into it, deserves particular notice, as remarkably noble and magnificent. But, above all, the engagement of Fingal with the spirit of Loda, in Carric-thura, cannot be mentioned without admiration. forbear transcribing the passage, as it must have drawn the attention of every one who has read the works of Ossian. The undaunted courage of Fingal, opposed to all the terrors of the Scandinavian god; the appearance and the speech of that awful spirit; the wound which he receives, and the shriek which he sends forth, as, rolled into himself, The scene of Temora, as of Fingal, is he rose upon the wind,' are full of the most laid in Ireland; and the action is of a posteamazing and terrible majesty. I know no rior date. The subject is, an expedition of passage more sublime in the writings of the hero to dethrone and punish a bloody any uninspired author. The fiction is calculated to aggrandize the hero; which it usurper, and to restore the possession of the does to a high degree: nor is it so unnatural kingdom to the posterity of the lawful or wild a fiction as might at first be thought. tice and heroism of the great Fingal. The prince; an undertaking worthy of the jusAccording to the notions of those times, action is one and complete. The poem supernatural beings were material, and, consequently, vulnerable. The spirit of Loda opens with the descent of Fingal on the was not acknowledged as a deity by Fin-coast, and the consultation held among the gal; he did not worship at the stone of his power; he plainly considered him as the god of his enemies only; as a local deity, whose dominion extended no farther than to the regions where he was worshipped; who had, therefore, no title to threaten him, and no claim to his submission. We know there are poetical precedents of great authority, for fictions fully as extravagant; and if Homer be forgiven for making Diomed attack and wound in battle the gods whom that chief himself worshipped, Ossian surely is pardonable for making his hero superior to the god of a foreign territory. imagine what an illustrious figure they would have made under the management of such a genius as his; and how finely they would have been adapted to many situations which occur in his works. After so particular an examination of FinIgal, it were needless to enter into as full a discussion of the conduct of Temora, the other epic poem. Many of the same observations, especially with regard to the great characteristics of heroic poetry, apply to both. The high merit, however, of Temora, requires that we should not pass it by without some remarks. Notwithstanding the poetical advantages which I have ascribed to Ossian's machinery, I acknowledge it would have been much more beautiful and perfect had the author discovered some knowledge of a Supreme Being. Although his silence on this head has been accounted for by the learned and ingenious Translator in a very probable manner, yet still it must be held a considerable disadvantage to the poetry. For the most august and lofty ideas that can embellish poetry are derived from the belief of a Divine administration of the universe: and hence the invocation of a Supreme Being, or at least of some superior powers, who are conceived as presiding over human affairs, the solemnities of religious worship, prayers preferred, and assistance implored on critical occasions, appear with great dignity in the works of almost all poets, as chief ornaments of their compositions. The absence of all such religious ideas from Ossian's poetry is a sensible blank in it; the more to be regretted, as we can easily chiefs of the enemy. The murder of the young prince Cormac, which was the cause of the war, being antecedent to the epic action, is introduced with great propriety as an episode in the first book. In the progress of the poem, three battles are described, which rise in their importance above one another; the success is various, and the issue for some time doubtful; till at last, Fingal brought into distress, by the wound of his great general Gaul, and the death of his and, having slain the Irish king in single son Fillan, assumes the command himself; combat, restores the rightful heir to his throne. Temora has perhaps less fire than the other epic poem; but in return it has more variety, more tenderness, and more magnificence. The reigning idea, so often presented to us, of "Fingal, in the last of his fields." is venerable and affecting; nor could any more noble conclusion be thought of, than the aged hero, after so many successful achievements, taking his leave of battles, and, with all the solemnities of those times, The events resigning his spear to his son. are less crowded in Temora than in Fingal; actions and characters are more parare let into the ticularly displayed; we transactions of both hosts; and informed of the adventures of the night as well as of the day. The still, pathetic, and the romantic scenery of several of the night adventures, so remarkably suited to Ossian's genius, occasion a fine diversity in the poem; and are happily contrasted with the military operations of the day. In most of our author's poems the horrors of war are softened by intermixed scenes of || love and friendship. In Fingal these are introduced as episodes; in Temora we have an incident of this nature wrought into the body of the piece, in the adventure of Cathmor and Sulmalla. This forms one of the most conspicuous beauties of that poem. The distress of Sulmalla, disguised and unknown among strangers, her tender and anxious concern for the safety of Cathmor, her dream, and her melting remembrance of the land of her fathers; Cathmor's emotion when he first discovers her, his struggles to conceal and suppress his passion, lest it should unman him in the midst of war, though his soul poured forth in secret, when he beheld her fearful eye,' and the last interview between them, when, overcome by her tenderness, he lets her know he had discovered her, and confesses his passion; are all wrought up with the most exquisite sensibility and delicacy. | is so amiable as to divide the reader's attachment between him and the hero of the poem; though our author has artfully managed it so as to make Cathmor himself indirectly acknowledge Fingal's superiority, and to appear somewhat apprehensive of the event, after the death of Fillan, which he knew would call forth Fingal in all his might. It is very remarkable, that although Ossian has introduced into his poems three complete heroes, Cuthullin, Cathmor, and Fingal, he has, however, sensibly distinguished each of their characters. Cuthullin is particularly honourable; Cathmor particularly amiable; Fingal wise and great, retaining an ascendant peculiar to himself in whatever light he is viewed. this in the description of his own son Oscar; but as he has extended it more fully in Fillan; and as the character is so consonant to the epic strain, though, so far as I remember, not placed in such a conspicuous light by any other epic poet, it may be worth while to attend a little to Ossian's management of it in this instance. But the favourite figure in Temora, and the one most highly finished, is Fillan. His character is of that sort for which Ossian shows a particular fondness; an eager, fervent, young warrior, fired with all the Besides the characters which appeared impatient enthusiasm for military glory pein Fingal, several new ones are here in-culiar, to that time of life. He had sketched troduced; and though, as they are all the characters of warriors, bravery is the predominant feature, they are nevertheless diversified in a sensible and striking manner. Foldath, for instance, the general of Cathmor, exhibits the perfect picture of a savage chieftain: bold and daring, but presumptuous, cruel, and overbearing. He is distinguished on his first appearance as the friend of the tyrant Cairbar; 'His stride is haughty; his red eye rolls in wrath.' In his person and whole deportment he is contrasted with the mild and wise Hidalla, another leader of the same army, on whose humanity and gentleness he looks with great contempt. He professedly delights in strife and blood. He insults over the fallen. He is imperious in his counsels, and factious when they are not followed. He is unrelenting in all his schemes of revenge, even to the length of denying the funeral song to the dead; which, from the injury thereby done to their ghosts, was in those days considered as the greatest barbarity. Fierce to the last, he comforts himself in his dying moments with thinking that his ghost shall often leave its blast to rejoice over the graves of those he had slain. Yet Ossian, ever prone to the pathetic, has contrived to throw into his account of the death, even of this man, some tender circumstances, by the moving description of his daughter Dardulena, the last of his race. The character of Foldath tends much to exalt that of Cathmor, the chief commander, which is distinguished by the most humane virtues. He abhors all fraud and cruelty, is famous for his hospitality to strangers; open to every generous sentiment, and to every soft and compassionate feeling. He Fillan was the youngest of all the sons of Fingal; younger, it is plain, than his nephew Oscar, by whose fame and great deeds in war we may naturally suppose his ambition to have been highly stimulated. Withal, as he is younger, he is described as more rash and fiery. His first appearance is soon after Oscar's death, when he was employed to watch the motions of the foe by night. In a conversation with his brother Ossian, on that occasion, we learn that it was not long since he began to lift the spear. Few are the marks of my sword in battle; but my soul is fire.' He is with some difficulty restrained by Ossian from going to attack the enemy; and complains to him, that his father had never allowed him any opportunity of signalising his valour. 'The king hath not remarked my sword; I go forth with the crowd; I return without my fame.' Soon after, when Fingal, according to custom, was to appoint one of his chiefs to command the army, and each was standing forth, and putting in his claim to this honour, Fillan is presented in the following most picturesque and natural attitude: On his spear stood the son of Clatho, in the wandering of his locks. Thrice he raised his eyes to Fingal; his voice thrice failed him as he spoke. Fillan could not boast of battles; at once he strode away. Bent over a distant stream he stood; the 6 thine! The host is withered in its course. No farther look it is dark-- lighttrembling from the harp, strike, virgins! strike the sound.' The sudden interruption and suspense of the narration on Cathmor's rising from his hill, the abrupt bursting into the praise of Fillan, and the passionate apostrophe to his mother Clatho, are admirable efforts of poetical art, in order to interest us in Fillan's danger; and the whole is heightened by the immediate following simile, one of the most magnificent and sublime that is to be met with in any poet, and which, if it had been found in Homer, would have been the frequent subject of admiration to critics: Fillan is like a spirit of heaven, that descends from the skirt of his blast. The troubled ocean feels his steps, as he strides from wave to wave. His path kindles behind him; islands shake their heads on the heaving seas.' tear hung in his eye. He struck, at times, || leave thy hall; behold that early beam of the thistle's head with his inverted spear.' No less natural and beautiful is the description of Fingal's paternal emotion on this occasion. Nor is he unseen of Fingal. Sidelong he beheld his son. He beheld him with bursting joy. He hid the big tear with his locks, and turned amidst his crowded soul.' The command, for that day, being given to Gaul, Fillan rushes amidst the thickest of the foe, saves Gaul's life, who is wounded by a random arrow, and distinguishes himself so in battle, that the days of old return on Fingal's mind, as he beholds the renown of his son. As the sun rejoices from the cloud, over the tree his beams have raised, whilst it shakes its lonely head on the heath, so joyful is the king over Fillan.' Sedate, however, and wise, he mixes the praise which he bestows on him with some reprehension of his rashness. "My son, I saw thy deeds, and my soul was glad. 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 thee; they are thy strength in the field. Then shalt thou be long renowned, and behold the tombs of thy fathers.' But the poet's art is not yet exhausted. The fall of this noble young warrior, or, in Ossian's style, the extinction of this beam of heaven, could not be rendered too interesting and effecting. Our attention is. naturally drawn towards Fingal. He beholds from his hill the rising of Cathmor, On the next day, the greatest and the and the danger of his son. But what shall last of Fillan's life, the charge is committed he do? Shall Fingal rise to his aid, and to him of leading on the host to battle. take the sword of Luno? What then shall Fingal's speech to his troops on this occa- become of thy fame, son of white-bosomed sion is full of noble sentiment; and, where Clatho? Turn not thine eyes from Fingal, he recommends his son to their care, ex- daughter of Inistore! I shall not quench tremely touching. A young beam is before thy early beam. No cloud of mine shall you; few are his steps to war. They are rise, my son, upon thy soul of fire.' Strugfew, but he is valiant; defend my dark-gling between concern for the fame, and haired son. Bring him back with joy; hereafter he may stand alone. His form is like his fathers; his soul is a flame of their fire.' When the battle begins, the poet puts forth his strength to describe the exploits of the young hero; who, at last encountering and killing with his own hand Foldath, the opposite general, attains the pinnacle of glory. In what follows, when the fate of Fillan is drawing near, Ossian, if any where, excels himself. Foldath being slain, and a general rout begun, there was no resource left to the enemy but in the great Cathmor himself, who in this extremity descends from the hill, where, according to the custom of those princes, he surveyed the battle. Observe how this critical event is wrought up by the poet. 'Wide-spreading over echoing Lubar, the flight of Bolga is rolled along. Fillan hung forward on their steps; and strewed the heath with dead. Fingal rejoiced over his son. Blue-shielded Cathmor rose. Son of Alpin, bring the harp! Give Fillan's praise to the wind; raise high his praise in my hall, while yet he shines in war. Leave, blue-eyed Clatho! fear for the safety of his son, he withdraws We see |