feasted in my halls; they show the arms of my fathers in a foreign land; the sons of the strangers wonder, and bless the friends of Morven's race; for our names have been heard afar: the kings of the world shook in the midst of their host.

:

Ullin went with his song. Fingal rested on his spear he saw the mighty foe in his armour : he blest the stranger's son. 'How stately art thou, son of the sea!' said the king of woody Morven. 'Thy sword is a beam of fire by thy side; thy spear is a pine that defies the storm. The varied face of the moon is not broader than thy shield. Ruddy is thy face of youth! soft the ringlets of thy hair! But this tree may fall, and his memory be forgot! The daughter of the stranger will be sad looking to the rolling sea: the children will say, "We see a ship; perhaps it is the king of Balclutha." The tear starts from their mother's eye: her thoughts are of him who sleeps in Morven !'

Such were the words of the king, when Ullin came to the mighty Carthon: he threw down the spear before him, he raised the song of peace.

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Come to the feast of Fingal, Carthon from the rolling sea! partake of the feast of the king, or lift the spear of war! The ghosts of our foes are many but renowned are the friends of Morven Behold that field, O Carthon! many a green hill rises there, with mossy stones and rustling grass; these are the tombs of Fingal's foes, the sons of the rolling sea!'

'Dost thou speak to the weak in arms!' said Carthon,bard of the woody Morven ? Is my face pale for fear, son of the peaceful song? Why then dost thou think to darken my soul with the tales of those who fell? My arm has fought in battle, my renown is known afar. Go to the feeble in arms, bid them yield to Fingal. not I seen the fallen Balclutha ? And

Have shall I

feast with Comhal's son? Comhal, who threw his fire in the midst of my father's hall? I was young, and knew not the cause why the virgins wept. The columns of smoke pleased mine eye, when they rose above my walls! I often look ed back with gladness when my friends flew along the hill. But when the years of my youth came on, I beheld the moss of my fallen walls. My sigh arose with the morning, and my tears descended with night. Shall I not fight, I said to my soul, against the children of my foes? And I will fight, O bard! I feel the strength of my soul !

His people gathered around the hero, and drew at once their shining swords. He stands in the midst, like a pillar of fire, the tear halfstarting from his eye, for he thought of the fallen Balclutha. The crowded pride of his soul arose. Sidelong he looked up to the hill, where our heroes shone in arms: the spear trembled in his hand. Bending forward, he seemed to threaten the king.

Shall I, said Fingal to his soul, meet at once the youth? Shall I stop him in the midst of his course before his fame shall arise! But the bard hereafter may say, when he sees the tomb of Carthon, Fingal took his thousands to battle, before the noble Carthon fell. No: bard of the times to come! thou shalt not lessen Fingal's fame! my heroes will fight the youth, and Fingal behold the war. If he overcomes, I rush, in my strength, like the roaring stream of Cona. Who of my chiefs will meet the son of the rolling sea? Many are his warriors on the coast, and strong is his ashen spear!

Catnul rose in his strength, the son of the mighty Lormar: three hundred youths attend the chief, the race of his native streams. Feeble was his arm against Carthon: he fell, and his

heroes fled.

Connal resumed the battle, but he broke his heavy spear: he lay bound on the field Carthon pursued his people.

Clessámmor, said the king of Morven, where s the spear of thy strength? Wilt thou behold Connal bound: thy friend at the stream of Lora? Rise, in the light of thy steel, companion of valiant Comhal! let the youth of Balclutha feel the strength of Morven's race. He rose in the strength of his steel, shaking his grisly locks. He fitted the steel to his side; he rushed in the pride of valour.

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Carthon stood on a rock: he saw the hero rushing on. He loved the dreadful joy of his face his strength in the locks of age! Shall I lift that spear,' he said, that never strikes but once a foe? Or shall I, with the words of peace preserve the warrior's life? Stately are his steps of age! lovely the remnant of his years! Perhaps it is the husband of Moina, the father of car-borne Carthon. Often have I heard that he dwelt at the echoing stream of Lora.

Such were his words when Clessámmor came, and lifted high his spear. The youth received it on his shield, and spoke the words of peace. 'Warrior of the aged locks! is there no youth to lift the spear? Hast thou no son to raise the shield before his father to meet the arm of youth? Is the spouse of thy love no more? or weeps she over the tombs of thy sons? Art thou of the kings of men? What will be the fame of my sword shouldst thou fall ?"

It will be great, thou son of pride! begun the tall Clessámmor. 1 have been renowned in battle, but I never told my name to a foe.*

To tell one's name to an enemy, was reckoned in those days of heroism, a manifest evasion of fighting him; for if it was once known that friendship subsisted of old, between the ancestors of the combatants, the battle immediate

Yield to me, son of the wave, then shalt thou know that the mark of my sword is in many a field. I never yielded, king of spears!' replied the noble pride of Carthon: I have also fought in war, 1 behold my future fame. Despise me not, thou chief of men! my arm, my spear is strong. Retire among thy friends; let younger heroes fight.' Why dost thou wound my soul? replied Clessámmor, with a tear. Age does not tremble on my hand. 1 still can lift the sword. Shall I fly in Fingal's sight, in the sight of him I love? Son of the sea! I never fied: exalt thy pointed spear.

They fought like two contending winds, that strive to roll the wave. Carthon bade his spear to err: he still thought that the foe was the spouse of Moina He broke Clessámmor's beamy spear in twain: he seized his shining sword. But as Carthon was binding the chief, the chief drew the dagger of his fathers. He saw the foe's uncovered side, and opened there a wound.

Fingal saw Clessámmor low: he moved in the sound of his steel. The host stood silent in his presence; they turned their eyes to the king. He came like the sullen noise of a storm before the winds arise: the hunter hears it in the vale, and retires to the cave of the rock. Carthon stood in his place, the blood is rushing down his side: he saw the coming down of the king, his hopes of fame arose, but pale was his cheek: mis hair flew loose, his helmet shook on nigh the force of Carthon failed, but his sword was strong.

Fingal beheld the hero's blood; he stopt the uplifted spear. Yield, king of swords!' said

ly ceased, and the ancient amity of their forefathers was renewed. A man who tells his name to his enemy,' was of old an ignominious term for a coward.

Comhal's son, 'I behold thy blood; thou hast been mighty in battle, and thy fame shall never fade. Art thou the king so far renowned ? replied the car-borne Carthon: art thou that light of death, that frightens the kings of the world? But why should Carthon ask? for he is like the stream of his hills, strong as a river in his course, swift as the eagle of heaven.

that I had fought with the king, that my fame might be great in song! that the hunter, beholding my tomb, might say, he fought with the mighty Fingal. But Carthon dies unknown: he has poured out his force on the weak.

But thou shalt not die unknown, replied the king of woody Morven my bards are many, ( Carthon! their songs descend to future times. The children of years to come shall hear the fame of Carthon, when they sit round the burning oak, and the night is spent in songs of old. The hunter, sitting in the heath, shall hear the rustling blast, and raising his eyes, behold the rock where Carthon fell. He shall turn to his son, and show the place where the mighty fought There the king of Balclutha fought, like the strength of a thousand streams.

Joy rose in Carthon's face; he lifted his heavy eyes. He gave his sword to Fingal, to

The

lie within his hall, that the memory of Balclutha's king might remain in Morven. battle ceased along the field, the bard had sung

the

song of peace. The chiefs gathered round the falling Carthon; they heard his words with sighs. Silent they leaned on their spears, while Balclutha's hero spoke. His hair sighed in the wind, and his voice was sad and low.

'King of Morven,' Carthon said, 'I fall in the midst of my course. A foreign tomb receives, in youth, the last of Reuthámir's race. Darkness dwells in Balclutha: the shadows of