Colla came.

His downcast face is dark, and sorrow dwells in his soul. His sword is on the side

of the hero: the helmet of his fathers on his head. The battle grows in his breast. He strives to hide the tear.'

"Dar-thula, my daughter," he said, "thou art the last of Colla's race! Truthil is fallen in battle. The chief of Seláma is no more! Cairbar comes, with his thousands, towards Seláma's walls. Colla will meet his pride, and revenge his son. But where shall I find thy safety, Dar-thula with the dark-brown hair! thou art lovely as the sun-beam of heaven, and thy friends are low!" "Is the son of battle fallen," I said, with a bursting sigh? Ceased the generous soul of Truthil to lighten thro' the field? My safety, Colla, is in that bow. I have learned to pierce the deer. Is not Cairbar, like the hart of the desert, father of fallen Truthil?"

"The face of age brightened with joy. The crowded tears of his eyes poured down. The lips of Colla trembled. His grey beard whistled in the blast. "Thou art the sister of Truthil," he said; "thou burnest in the fire of his soul. Take, Dar-thula, take that spear, that brazen shield, that burnished helm they are the spoils of a warrior, a son of early youth! When the light rises on Seláma, we go to meet the car-borne Cairbar. But keep thou near the arm of Colla, beneath the shadow of my shield. Thy father, Dar-thula, could once defend thee; but age

:

is trembling on his hand. The strength of his arm has failed. His soul is darkened with grief."

The

"We passed the night in sorrow. The light of morning rose. I shone in the arms of battle. grey-haired hero moved before. The sons of Seláma convened, around the sounding shield of Colla. But few were they in the plain, and their locks were grey. The youths had fallen with Truthil, in the battle of car-borne Cormac. "Friends of my youth!" said Colla, "it was not thus you have seen me in arms. It was not thus I strode to battle, when the great Confadan fell. But ye are laden with grief. The darkness of age comes like the mist of the desert. My shield is worn with years! my sword is fixed * in its place! I said to my soul, thy evening shall be calm : Thy departure like a fading light. But the storm has returned. I bend like an aged oak. My boughs are fallen on Seláma. I tremble in my place. Where art thou, with thy fallen heroes, O my beloved Truthil! Thou answerest not from thy rushing blast. The soul of thy father is sad. But I will be sad no more, Cairbar or Colla must fall! I feel the returning strength of my arm. My heart leaps at the sound of war."

"The hero drew his sword. The gleaming blades

*It was the custom of ancient times, that every warrior at a certain age, or when he became unfit for the field, fixed his arms, in the great hall, where the tribe feasted upon joyful occasions. He was afterwards never to appear in battle; and this stage of life was called the time of fixing of the arms.

of his people rose. They moved along the plain, Their grey hair streamed in the wind. Cairbar sat at the feast, in the silent plain of Lona.* He saw the coming of the heroes. He called his chiefs to war. Why should I tell to Nathos, how the strife of battle grew? I have seen thee, in the midst of thousands, like the beam of heaven's fire: it is beautiful, but terrible; the people fall in its dreadful course. The spear of Colla flew. He remembered the battles of his youth. An arrow came with its sound. It pierced the hero's side. He fell on his echoing shield. My soul started with fear. I stretched my buckler over him; but my heaving breast was seen! Cairbar came, with his spear. He beheld Seláma's maid. Joy rose on his dark-brown face. He stayed the lifted steel. He raised the tomb of Colla. He brought me weeping to Seláma. He spoke the words of love, but my soul was sad. I saw the shields of my fathers; the sword of car-borne Truthil. I saw the arms of the dead; the tear was on my cheek! Then thou didst come, O Nathos! and gloomy Cairbar fled. He fled like the ghost of the

* Lona, a marshy plain. Cairbar had just provided an entertainment for his army, upon the defeat of Truthil the son of Colla, and the rest of the party of Cormac, when Colla and his aged warriors arrived to give him battle.

The poet, by an artifice, avoids the description of the battle of Lona, as it would be improper in the mouth of a woman, and could have nothing new, after the numerous descriptions, of that kind, in the rest of the poems. He, at the same time, gives an opportunity to Dar-thula to pass a fine compliment on her lover.

desert before the morning's beam. His host was not near and feeble was his arm against thy steel! Why art thou sad, O Nathos? said the lovely daughter of Colla."

"I have met," replied the hero, "the battle in my youth. My arm could not lift the spear, when danger first arose. My soul brightened in the presence of war, as the green narrow vale, when the sun pours his streamy beams, before he hides his head in a storm. The lonely traveller feels a mournful joy. He sees the darkness, that slowly comes. My soul brightened in danger before I saw Seláma's fair; before I saw thee, like a star, that shines on the hill, at night the cloud advances, and threatens the lovely light! We are in the land of foes. The winds have deceived us, Dar-thula !

:

friends is not near, nor the

The strength of our

mountains of Etha.

Where shall I find thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla! The brothers of Nathos are brave! and his own sword has shone in fight. But what are the sons of Usnoth to the host of dark-browed Cairbar! O that the winds had brought thy sails, Oscar, *king of men ! Thou didst promise to come to the battles of fallen Cormac! Then would my hand be strong, as the flaming arm of death. Cairbar would tremble in his halls, and peace dwell round the lovely Dar

* Oscar, the son of Ossian, had long resolved on the expedition into Ireland, against Cairbar, who had assassinated his friend Cathol, the son of Moran, an Irishman fo noble extraction, and in the interest of the family of Cormac.

thula. But why dost thou fall, my soul? The sons of Usnoth may prevail !"

"And they will prevail, O Nathos!" said the rising soul of the maid. "Never shall Dar-thula be

hold the halls of gloomy Cairbar. Give me those arms of brass, that glitter to the passing meteor. I see them dimly in the dark-bosomed ship. Dar-thula will enter the battle of steel. Ghost of the noble Colla! do I behold thee on that cloud? Who is that dim beside thee? Is it the car-borne Truthil? Shall I behold the halls of him that slew Seláma's chief? No: I will not behold them, spirits of my love!"

Joy rose in the face of Nathos, when he heard the white-bosomed maid. "Daughter of Seláma!

Come, with thy thouof Nathos is returned !

thou shinest along my soul. sands, Cairbar! the strength Thou, O aged Usnoth! shalt not hear that thy son has fled. I remember thy words on Etha; when my sails began to rise: when I spread them towards Erin, towards the mossy walls of Tura! "Thou goest," he said, "O Nathos, to the king of shields! Thou goest to Cuthullin, chief of men, who never fled from danger. Let not thine arm be feeble: neither be thy thoughts of flight; lest the son of Semo should say, that Etha's race are weak. His words may come to Usnoth, and sadden his soul in the hall." The tear was on my father's cheek. He gave this shining sword!