« 上一頁繼續 »
three days he pined alone. On the fourth, Sarno sent him to his ship and he returned to his land. But wrath darkened in his soul against the noble Cathulla. When Annir's stone of fame arose, Frothal came in his strength. The battle burned round Carric-thura and Sarno's mossy walls.
Morning rose on Inistore. Frothal struck his dark-brown shield. His chiefs started at the sound; they stood,
but their eyes were turned to the sea. They saw Fingal coming in his strength ; and first, the noble Thubar spoke, · Who comes, like the stag of the desert, with all his herd be. hind him? Frothal, it is a foe! I see his forward spear. Perhaps it is the king of Morven, Fingal the first of men. His deeds are well known in Lochlin ! the blood of his foes is in Sarno's halls. . Shall I ask the peace of kings ? His sword is the bolt of heaven !'
Son of the feeble hand, said Frothal, shall my days begin in a cloud ? Shall I yield before I have conquered, chief of streamy Tora ? The people would say in Sora, Frothal flew forth like a meteor ; but a darkness has met him, and his fame is no more. No, Thubar, I will never yield; my fame shall surround me like light. No: I will never yield, chief of streamy Tora!
He went forth with the stream of his people, but they met a rock; Fingal stood unmoved, broken they rolled back from his side. Nordid they safely fly; the spear of the king pursued their steps. The field is covered with heroes. A rising hill preserved the foe.
Frothal saw their flight. The rage of his bosom rose. He bent his eyes to the ground, and called the noble Thubar. Thubar ! my people are fled. My fame has ceased to rise. I will fight the king ; I feel my burning soul ! Send a bard to demand the combat. Speak not against Frothal's words ! But, Thubar! I
love a maid ; she dwells by Thano's stream, the white-bosomed daughter of Herman, Utha, with soft rolling eyes. She feared the low-laid Comala; ber secret sighs rose when I spread the sail. Tell to Utha of harps that my soul delighted in her.
Such were his words resolved to fight. The soft sigh of Utha was near ! She had followed her hero in the armour of a man. She rolled her eye on the youth, in secret, from beneath her steel. She saw the bard as he went ; the spear fell thrice from her hand! Her loose hair flew on the wind. Her white breast rose with sighs. She raised her eyes to the king. She would speak but thrice she failed.
Fingal heard the words of the bard ; he came in the strength of his steel. They mixed their deathful spears : they raised the gleam of their
But the sword of Fingal descended and cut Frothal's shield in twain. His fair side is exposed; balf bent, he foresees his death. Darkness gathered on Utha's soul. The tear rolled down her cheek. She rushed to cover the chief with her shield ; but a fallen oak met her steps. She fell on her arm of snow ; her shield, her helmet flew wide. Her white bosom heaved to the sigh ; her dark-brown hair is spread on earth.
Fingal pitied the white-armed maid ! he stayed the uplifted sword. The tear was in the eye of the king, as, bending forward, he spoke, King of streamy Sora ! fear not the sword of Fingal.
It was never stained with the blood of the vanquished; it never pierced a fallen foe. Let thy people rejoice by their native streams. Let the maid of thy love be glad. Why shouldst thou fall in thy youth, king of streamy Sora Frothal heard the words of
Fingal, and saw the rising maid: they* stond in silence, in their beauty, like two young trees of the plain, when the shower of spring is on their leaves, and the loud winds are laid.
Daughter of Herman, said Frothal, didst thou come from Tora's streams ? didst thou come in thy beauty to behold thy warrior low? But he was low before the mighty, maid of the slow-rolling eye! The feeble did not overcome the son of car-horne Annir ! Terrible art thou, O king of Morven! in battles of the spear. But, in peace, thou art like the sun when he looks through a silent shower: the flowers lift their fair heads before him ; the gales shake their rustling wings. O that thou wert in Sora ! that my feast were spread! The future kings of Sora would see thy arms and rejoice. They would rejoice at the fame of their fathers, who beheld the mighty Fingal !
Son of Annir, replied the king, the fame of Sora's race shall be heard! When chiefs are strong in war, then does the song arise ! But if their swords are stretched over the feeble ; if the blood of the weak has stained their arms; the bard shall forget them in the song, and their tombs shall not be known. The stranger shall come and build there, and remove the heaped
An half-worn sword shall rise before him ; bending above it, he will say, · These are the arms of the chiefs of old, but their names are not in song.' Come thou, O Frothal ! to the feast of Inistore : let the maid of thy love be there ; let our faces brighten with joy!
Fingal took his spear, moving in the steps of his might. The gates of Carric-thura are open. ed wide. The feast of shells is spread. The soft sound of music arose. Gladness brighten
. Frothal and Utham
ed in the hall. The voice of Ullin was heard ; the harp of Selma was strung. Utha rejoiced in his presence, and demanded the song of grief ; the big tear hung in her eye when the soft Crimora spoke. Crimora, the daughter of Rinval, who dwelt at Lotha's roaring stream!
The tale was long, but lovely; and pleased the blushing Utha.
Crimorch Who cometh from the hill, like a cloud tinged with the beam of the west ? Whose voice is that, loud as the wind, but pleasant as the harp of Carril ? It is my love in the light of steel ; but sad is his darkened brow! Live the mighty race of Fingal ? or what dark. ens Connal's soul ?
Connal. They live. They return from th: chase like a stream of light. The sun is on their shields. Like a ridge of fire they descend the hill. Loud is the voice of the youth ! the war, my love, is near! To morrow the dreadfu. Dargo comes to try the force of our race. The race of Fingal he defies; the race of battles and wounds!
Crimora. Connal, I saw his sails like gray mist on the dark-brown wave. They slowly came to land. Connal, many are the warriors of Dargo.
Connal. Bring me thy father's shield, the hossy iron shield of Rinval! that shield like the full-orbed moon, when she moves darkened through heaven.
Crimora. That shield I bring, 0 Connal ! but it did not defend my father. By the spear of Gormar he fell. Thou may'st fall, o Connal !
Connal. Fall I may! but raise my tomb, Cri. mora ! Gray stones, a mound of earth, shall send my name to other times. Bend thy red eye over my grave, beat thy mournful heaving breast. Though fair thou art, my love, as the light
more pleasant than the gale of the hill; yet I will not here remain. Raise, my tomb, Crimora!
Crimora. Then give me those arms that gleam; that sword and that spear of steel. I shall meet Dargo with Connal, and aid him in the fight. Farewell, ye rocks of Ardven! ye deer! and ye streams of the hill! We shall return no more! Our tombs are distant far!
. And did they return no more?' said Utha's bursting sigh. Fell the mighty in battle, and did Crimora live? Her steps were lonely; her soul was sad for Connal.
Was he not young and lovely; like the beam of the setting sun ? Ullin saw the virgin's tear, he took the softly trembling harp : the song was lovely, but sad, and silence was in Carric-thura.
Autumn is dark on the mountains; gray mist rests on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. A tree stands alone on the hill, and marks the slumbering Connal. The leaves whirl round with the wind, and strew the grave of the dead. At times are seen here the ghosts of the departed, when the musing hunter alone stalks slowly over the heath.
Who can reach the source of thy race, O Connal! who recount thy fathers ? Thy family grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth the wind with its lofty head. But now it is torn from the earth. Who shall supply the place of Connal ? Here was the din of arms; here the groans of the dying. Bloody are the wars of Fingal, O Connal! it was here thou didst fall. Thine arm was like a storm; thy sword a beam of the sky; thy height a rock on the plain; thine eyes a fur. nace of fire. Louder than a storm was thy voice, in the battles of thy steel. Warriors fell by thy sword, as the thistles by the staff of a boy. Dargo the mighty came on, darkened in his rage. His