Not forgot is that cloud in war, bard of other times. High fhall his tomb rife, on Moi-lena, the dwelling of renown. But, now, roll back my foul to the times of my fathers to the years when firft they rofe, on Inis-huna's waves. Nor alone pleasant to Cathmor is the remembrance of woodcovered Lumon. Lumon of the ftreams, the dwelling of white-bofomed maids. "Lumon * of the ftreams, thou rifeft on Fonar's foul ! Thy fun is on thy fide, on the rocks of thy bending trees. The dun roe is feen from thy furze; the deer lifts his branchy head; for he fees, at times, the hound, on the half-covered heath. Slow, on the vale, are the steps of maids; the white-armed daughters of the bow: they lift their blue eyes to the hill, from amidft their wandering locks. Not there is the ftride of Larthon, chief of Inis-huna. He mounts the wave on his own dark oak, in Cluba's ridgy bay. That oak which he cut from Lumon, to bound along the fea. The maids turn their eyes away, left the king fhould be lowly-laid; for never had they seen a ship, dark rider of the wave ! * Lumon was a hill, in Inis-huna, near the refidence of Sul-malla. This episode has an immediate connection with what is faid of Larthon, in the defcription of Cathmor's fhield, " Now "Now he dares to call the winds, and to mix with the mift of ocean. Blue Inisfail rose, in fmoak; but dark-skirted night came down. The fons of Bolga feared. The fiery-haired Ton-théna rofe. Culbin's bay received the fhip, in the bosom of its echoing woods. There iffued a ftream from Duthuma's horrid cave; where fpirits gleamed, at times, with their half-finished forms. "Dreams defcended on Larthon: he faw feven fpirits of his fathers. He heard their half-formed words, and dimly beheld the times to come. He beheld the kings of Atha, the fons of future days. They led their hofts, along the field, like ridges of mift, which winds pour, in autumn, over Atha of the groves. "Larthon raifed the hall of Samla the mufic of the harp. to He went forth to the roes of Erin, to their wonted ftreams. Nor did he forget green-headed Lumon; he often bounded over his feas, to where white-handed Flathal† looked from the hill of roes. Lumon of the foamy ftreams, thou rifeft on Fonar's foul !” Samla, apparitions, fo called from the vifion of Larthon, concerning his pofterity.mod +Flathal, heavenly, exquifitely beautiful. the wife of Larthon. She was Morning The Val Morning pours from the east. mifty heads of the mountains rise. leys fhew, on every fide, the grey-winding of their ftreams. His hoft heard the fhield of Cathmor: at once they rofe around; like a crouded fea, when firft it feels the wings of the wind. The waves know not whither to roll; they lift their troubled heads. Sad and flow retired Sul-malla to Lona of the ftreams. She went, and often turned; her blue eyes rolled in tears. But when the came to the rock, that darklycovered Lona's vale, fhe looked, from her bursting foul, on the king; and funk, at once, behind. Son of Alpin, ftrike the ftring. Is there aught of joy in the harp? Pour it then on the foul of Offian: it is folded in mift. I hear thee, O bard! in my night. But cease the lightly trembling found. The joy of grief belongs to Offian, amidst his dark-brown years. Green thorn of the hill of ghofts, that shakeft thy head to nightly winds! I hear no found in thee; is there no fpirit's windy fkirt now rustling in thy leaves? Often are the fteps of the dead, in the darkeddying blasts; when the moon, a dun shield, from the eaft, is rolled along the iky. Ullin, Ullin, Carril, and Ryno, voices of the days of old! Let me hear you, while yet it is dark, to please and awake my foul. I hear you not, ye fons of fong; in what hall of the clouds is your reft? Do you touch the shadowy harp, robed with morning mift, where the ruftling fun comes forth from his green-headed waves ? |