"sought the honour of the spear. The youth



was lovely as the first beam of the sun; few

were they who could meet him in fight! My "heroes yielded to Cormalo: my daughter was "seized in his love. Argon and Ruro returned "from the chase; the tears of their pride de"scend: they roll their silent eyes on Runa's he"roes, who had yielded to a stranger. Three


days they feasted with Cormalo: on the fourth

young Argon fought. But who could fight "with Argon? Cormalo is overcome. His heart "swelled with the grief of pride; he resolved, in "secret, to behold the death of my sons. They "went to the hills of Runa; they pursued the "dark-brown hinds. The arrow of Cormalo "flew in secret: my children fell in blood. He "came to the maid of his love; to Inis-thona's "long-haired maid. They fled over the desert. "Annir remained alone. Night came on, and day

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appeared: nor Argon's voice, nor Ruro's came. "At length their much-loved dog was seen; the "fleet and bounding Runa. He came into the "hall and howled; and seemed to look towards "the place of their fall. We followed him: we "found them here: we laid them by this mossy "stream. This is the haunt of Annir, when the "chase of the hinds is past. I bend like the trunk "of an aged oak; my tears for ever flow!"

* By the honour of the spear, is meant the tournament practised among the ancient northern nations.

"O Ronnan!" said the rising Oscar, "Ogar "king of spears! call my heroes to my side, the

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sons of streamy Morven. To-day we go to "Lano's water, that sends forth the vapour of "death. Cormalo will not long rejoice: death " is often at the point of our swords!"

They came over the desert like stormy clouds, when the winds roll them along the heath: their edges are tinged with lightning; the echoing groves foresee the storm! The horn of Oscar's battle is heard; Lano shook over all its waves. The children of the lake convened around the sounding shield of Cormalo. Oscar fought as he was wont in war. Cormalo fell beneath his sword: the sons of dismal Lano fled to their secret vales! Oscar brought the daughter of Inisthona to Annir's echoing halls. The face of age is bright with joy; he blest the king of swords.

How great was the joy of Ossian, when he beheld the distant sail of his son! it was like a cloud of light that rises in the east, when the traveller is sad in a land unknown; and dismal night, with her ghosts, is sitting around in shades! We brought him with songs to Selma's halls. Fingal spread the feast of shells. A thousand bards raised the name of Oscar; Morven answered to the sound. The daughter of Toscar was there : her voice was like the harp; when the distant sound comes, in the evening, on the soft-rustling breeze of the vale!


O lay me, ye that see the light, near some rock my hills! let the thick hazels be around, let the rustling oak be near. Green be the place of my rest; let the sound of the distant torrent be heard. Daughter of Toscar take the harp, and raise the lovely song of Selma; that sleep may overtake my soul in the midst of joy; that the dreams of my youth may return, and the days of the mighty Fingal. Selma; I behold thy towers, thy trees, thy shaded wall! I see the heroes of Morven; I hear the song of bards; Oscar lifts the sword of Cormalo; a thousand youths admire its studded thongs. They look with wonder on my son: they admire the strength of his arm. They mark the joy of his father's eyes; they long for an equal fame. And ye shall have your fame, O sons of streamy Morven! My soul is often brightened with song; I remember the friends of my youth. But sleep descends in the sound of the harp! pleasant dreams begin to rise! Ye sons of the chase, stand far distant, nor disturb my rest. The bard of other times holds discourse with his fathers! the chiefs of the days of old! Sons of the chase, stand far distant! disturb not the dreams of Ossian!


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