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marked with the strokes of battle ; and the brightness of its bosses has failed That shield the great Dunthalmo bore, the chief of streamy Teutha. Dunthalmo bore it in battle before he fell by Ossian's spear. Listen, son of the rock! to the tale of other years.
Rathmor was a chief of Clutha. The feeble dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rathmor were never shut: his feast was always spread. The sons of the stranger came. They blessed the generous chief of Clutha.
bards raised the song, and touched the harp : joy brightened on the face of the sad ! Dunthalmo came, in his pride, and rushed into the combat of Rathmor. The chief of Clutha overcame : the rage of Dunthalmo rose. He came, by night, with his warriors; the mighty Rathmor fell. He fell in his halls, where his feast was often spread for strangers.
Colmar and Calthon were young, the sons of car-borne. Rathmor. They came, in the joy of youth, into their father's hall. They behold him in his blood ; their bursting tears descend. The soul of Dunthalmo melted, when he saw the children of youth. He brought them to Al. tentha's walls ; they grew in the house of their foe. They bent the bow in his presence: and came forth to his wars. They saw the fallen walls of their fathers ; they saw the green thorn in the hall. Their tears rushed forth in secret. At times their faces were sad. Dunthalmo be. held their grief: his darkening soul designed their death. He closed them in two caves, on the echoing banks of Teutha. The sun did not come there with his beams; nor the moon of heaven by night. The sons of Rathmor remained in darkness, and foresaw their death.
The daughter of Dunthalmo wept in silence, the fair-haired blue-eyed Colmal. had rolled in secret on Calthon; his loveliness
Her eye swelled in her soul. She trembled for her warrior; but what could Colmal do ? Her arm could not lift the spear; nor was the sword formed for her side. Her white breast never rose beneath a mail. Neither was her eye the terror of heroes. What canst thou do, o Colmal! for the falling chief ? Her steps are unequal; her hair is loose; her eye looks wildly through her tears. She came, by night, to the hall. She armed her lovely form in steel; the steel of a young warrior, who fell in the first of his battles. She came to the cave of Calthon, and loosed the thong from his hands.
• Arise, son of Rathmor,' she said, "arise, the night is dark! Let us fly to the king of Selnia, chief of fallen Clutha! I am the son of Lamgal, who dwelt in thy father's hall. I heard of thy dark dwelling in the cave, and iny soul arose. Arise, son of Rathmor ! arise, the night is dark !' -Blest voice !' replied the chief, 'comest thou from the clouds to Calthon? The ghosts of his fathers have often descended in his dreams, since the sun has retired from his eyes, and darkness has dwelt around him. Or art thou the son of Lamgal, the chief I often saw in Clutha ? But shall I fly to Fingal, and Col. mar my brother low? Will I fly to Morven, and the hero closed in night ? No; give me that spear, son of Lamgal; Calthon will defend his brother !"
• A thousand warriors,' replied the maid, stretch their spears round car-borne Colmar. What can Calthon do against a host so great ? Let us fly to the king of Morven, he will come with war.
His arm is stretched forth to the unhappy; the lightning of his sword is round the weak. Arise, thou son of Rathmor; the shadows will fly away.
Arise, or thy steps may be seen, and thou must fall in youth.'
The sighing hero rose ; his tears descend for car-borne Colmar. He came with the maid to Selma's hall : but he knew not that it was Cola mal. The helmet covered her lovely_face. Her bosom heaved beneath the steel. Fingal returned from the chase, and found the lovely strangers. They were like two beams of light, in the midst of the hall of shells.
The king heard the tale of grief; and turned his eyes around, A thousand heroes half rose before him; claiming the war of Teutha. with my spear from the hill; the joy of battle rose in my breast : for the king spoke to Ossian in the midst of a thousand chiefs,
• Son of my strength,' began the king, “take thou the spear of Fingal. Go to Teutha's rushing stream, and save the car-borne Colmar, Let thy fame return before thee like a pleasant gale ; that my soul may rejoice over my son, who renews the renown of our fathers. Os. sian! be thou a storm in war ; but mild when the foe is low! it was thus my fame arose, O my son! be thou like Selma's chief. When the haughty come to my halls, my eyes behold them not.
But my arm is stretched forth to the unhappy. My sword defends the weak.'
I rejoiced in the words of the king. I took my rattling arms. Diaran rose at my side, and Dargo, king of spears. Three hundred youths followed our steps; the lovely strangers were at my side.
Dunthalmo heard the sound of our approach. He gathered the strength of Teutha. He stood on a hill with his host. They were like rocks broken with thunder, when their bent trees are singed and bare, and the streams of their chinks have failed. The stream of Teutha rolled in its pride, before the gloomy foe. I sent a bard to Dunthalmo, to offer the combat on the plain ; but he smiled in
the darkness of his pride. His unsettled host moved on the hill, like the mountain cloud, when the blast has entered its womb, and scatters the curling gloom on every side.
They brought Colmar to Teutha's bank, bound with a thousand thongs. The chief is sad, but stately. His eye is on his friends ; for we stood in our arms, whilst Teutha's waters rolled between. Dunthalmo came with his spear, and pierced the hero's side: he rolled on the bank in his blood. We heard his broken sigh3.
Calthon rushed into the stream: 1 bounded forward on my spear.
Teutha's face fell before us. Night came rolling down. Dunchalmo rested on a rock, amidst an aged wood. The rage of his bosom burned against the car-borne Calthon. But Calthon stood in grief; he mourned the fallen Colmar; Colmar slain in youth, before his fame arose !
I bade the song of woe to rise, to soothe the mournful chief; but he stood beneath a tree, and often threw his spear on the earth. The humid eye of Colmal rolled near in a secret tear : she foresaw the fall of Dunthalmo, or of Clutha's warlike chief. Now half the night had passed away;
Silence and darkness were on the field. Sleep rested on the eyes of the heroes : Calthon's settling soul was still. His eyes
were half closed; but the murmur of Teutha had not yet failed in his ear. Pale, and showing his wounds, the ghost of Colmar came : he bent his head over the hero, and raised his feeble voice !
• Sleeps the son of Rathmor in his night, and bis brother low? Did we not rise to the chase together? Pursued we not the dark brown hinds? Colmar was not forgot till he fell, till death had blasted his youth. I lie pale beneath the rock of Lona. Olet Calthon rise ! the morning comes with its beams; Dunthalmo will dis
honour the fallen.' He passed away in his blasť. The rising Calthon saw the steps of his depar
He rushed in the sound of his steel. Unhappy Colmal rose. She followed her hero through night, and dragged her spear behind. But when Calthon came to Lona's rock, he found his fallen brother.
The rage of his bosom rose; he rushed among the foe. The groaus of death ascend. They close around the chief. He is bound in the midst, and brought to gloomy Dunthalmo. The shout of joy arose ; and the hills of night replied.
I started at the sound; and took my father's spear. Diaran rose at my side ; and the youthful strength of Dargo. We missed the chief of Clutha, and our souls were sad. I dreaded the departure of my fame. The pride of my valour
• Sons of Morven,' I said, it is not thus our fathers fought. They rested not on the field of strangers, when the foe was not fallen before them. Their strength was like the eagles of heaven; their renown is in the song. But our ole fall by degrees.
Our fame begins to depart. What shall the king of Morven say, if Ossian conquers not at Teutha ? Rise in your steel, ye warriors, follow the sound of Ossian's course. He will not return, but renowned, to the echoing walls of Selma.'
Morning rose on the blue waters of Teutha. Colmal stood before me in tears.
She told of the chief of Clutha : thrice the spear fell from her hand. My wrath turned against the stranger;
for my soul trembled for Calthon. Son of the feeble hand ! I said, “do Teutha's war. riors fight with tears? The battle is not won with grief ; nor dwells the sigh in the soul of
Go to the deer of Carmun, to the lowing herds of Teutha. But leave these arms, thou son of fear! A warrior may lift them in fight.
I tore the mail from her shoulders. Her