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signal of Albion, and his joy arose.
He came from his own high hall, and seized my hand in grief. Why comes the race of heroes to a fall. ing king ? Ton-thormod of many spears is the chief of wavy Sar-dronlo. He saw and loved my daughter, white bosom'd Oina-morul. He sought. I denied the maid, for our fathers had been foes. He came with battle to Faärfed ; my people are rolled away. Why comes the race of heroes to a falling king ?'
I come not, I said, to look, like a boy, on the strife. Fingal remembers Mal-orchol, and his hall for strangers. From his waves the warrior descended on thy woody isle : thou wert no cloud before him. Thy feast was spread with songs. For this my sword shall rise, and thy foes perhaps may fail. Our friends are not forgot in their danger, though distant is our land.
• Descendant of the Caring Trenmor, thy words are like the voice of Cruth-Loda, when be speaks from his parting cloud, strong dweller of the sky! Many have rejoiced at
my but they all have forgot Mal-orchol. I have look ed towards all the winds, but no white sails were seen! but steel resounds in my hall, and not the joyful shells. Come to my dwelling, race of heroes ! dark-skirted night is near. Hear the voice of songs from the maid of Fuär. fed wild.'
We went. On the harp arose the white hands of Oina-moru). She waked her own sad tale from every trembling string. I stood in si. lence; for bright in her locks was the daughter of many isles! Her eyes were two stars, looking forward through a rushing shower. The mariner marks them on high, and blesses the lovely beams. With morning we rushed to battle, to Tormul's resounding stream : the foe moved to the sound of Ton-thormod's bossy shield. From
wing to wing the strife was mixed. I met Tona thormod in fight. Wide flew his broken steel. I seized the king in war. I gave his hand, fast bound with thongs, to Mal-orchol, the giver of shells. Joy rose at the feast of Fuärfed, for the foe had failed. Ton-thormod turned his face away from Oina-morul of isles.
Son of Fingal, begun Mal-orchol, not forgot shalt thou pass from me. A light shall dwell in thy ship, Oina-morul of slow-rolling eyes. She shall kindle gladness along thy mighty soul. Nor unheeded shall the maid move in Selma through the dwelling of kings.
In the hall I lay in night. Mine eyes were half closed in sleep. Soft music came to mine
It was like the rising breeze, that whirls at first the thistle's beard, then flies dark-sha dowy over the grass. It was the maid of Fuär. fed wild ! she raised the nightly song ; she knew that my soul was a stream that flowed at pleasant sounds.
• Who looks,' she said, 'from his rock on ocean's closing mist? His long locks, like the raven's wing, are wandering on the blast. -Stately are his steps in grief! The tears are in his eyes! His manly breast is heaving over his bursting soul! Retire, I am distant afar, a wanderer in lands unknown. Though the race of kings are around me, yet my soul is dark. Why have our fathers been foes, Ton-thormod, love of maids !'
• Soft voice of the streamy isle,' I said, 'why dost thou mourn by night? The race of daring Trenmor are not the dark in soul. Thou shalt not wander by streams unknown, blue-eyed Oina morul ! Within this bosom is a voice : it comes not to other ears; it bids Ossian hear the hapless in their hour of woe. Retire, soft singer by night! Ton-thormod shall not mourn on his rock!
With morning I loosed the king. I gave the long-haired maid. Mal-orchol heard my words in the midst of his echoing halls. King of Fuärfed wild, why should Ton-thormod mourn ? He is of the race of heroes, and a flame in war. Your fathers have been foes, but now their dim ghosts rejoice in death. They stretch their hands of mist to the same shell in Loda. Forget their rage, ye warriors! It was the cloud of other years.
Such were the deeds of Ossian, while yet his locks were young; though loveliness, with a robe of beams, clothed the daughter of many isles. We call back, maid of Lutha, the years that have rolled away!
Fingal dispatches Ossian, and Toscar, the son of Conloch and father of Malvina, to raise a stone on the banks of the stream of Crona, to perpetuate the memory of a victory which he had obtained in that place. When they were employed in that work, Car-ul, a neighbouring chief, invited them to a feast. They went, and Toscar fell desperately in love with Colna-dona, the daughter of Car-ul. Colna-dona became no less enamoured of Toscar. An incident at a hunting party brings their loves to a happy issue.
COL-AMON* of troubled streams, dark wanderer of distant vales, I behold thy course, between trees near Car-ul's echoing halls ! There dwelt bright Colna-dona, the daughter of the king. Her eyes were rolling stars ; her arms were white as the foam of streams. Her breast rose slowly to sight, like ocean's heaving wave. Her soul was a stream of light. Who, among the maids, was like the love of heroes ?
Beneath the voice of the king we moved to Cronat of the streams, Toscar of grassy Lutha, and Ossian young in fields. Three bards at. tended with songs.
Three bossy shields were borne before us ; for we were to rear the stone in memory of the past. By Crona's mossy course Fingal had scattered his foes; he had rolled away the strangers like a troubled sea. We came to the place of renown; from the mountains descended night. I tore an oak froin its hill, and raised a flame on high. I bade my fathers to look down from the clouds of their hall; for, at the fame of their race they brighten in the wind.
* Colna-dona signifies the love of heroes.' Col-amon, narrow river.' Car-ul • dark eyed.'
| Crona, murmuring,' was the name of a small strenm which discharged itself in the river Carron.
song of bards.
I took a stone from the stream, amidst the
The blood of Fingal's foes hung curdled in its ooze. Beneath I placed, at intervals, three bosses from the shield of foes, as rose or fell the sound of Ullin's nightly song. Toscar laid a dagger in earth, a mail of sound. ing steel.
We raised the mould around the stone, and bade it speak to other years.
Oozy daughter of streams, that now art reared on high, speak to the feeble, O stone! after Selma's race have failed ! Prone from the stormy night, the traveller shall lay him by thy side : thy whistling moss shall sound in his dreams; the years that were past shall return. Battles rise before himn, blue-shielded kings descend to war : the darkened moon looks from heaven on the troubled field. He shali burst with morning from dreams, and see the tombs of warriors round. He shall ask about the stone, and the aged shall reply, stone was raised by Ossian, a chief of other years!
From Col-amon came a bard, from Car-ul, the friend of strangers. He bade us to the feast of kings, to the dwelling of bright Colna-dona. We went to the hall of harps. There Car-ul brightened between his aged locks, when he beheld the sons of his friends, like two young branches before him.
• Sons of the mighty,' he said, 'ye bring back the days of old, when first I descended from waves, on Selma's streamy vale ! I pursued Duthmocarglos, dweller of ocean's wind. Our fathers had been foes ; we met by Clutha's winding waters. He fled along the sea, and my sails were spread behind him. Night deceived me on the deep. I came to the dwelling of kings, to Selma of high-bosomed maids. Fingal came forth with his bards, and Conloch, arm