"the people fall! death sits in the lightning of his sword!"-" Do I fear," replied Cuthullin, "the spear of car-borne Torlath? He is brave as "a thousand heroes: but my soul delights in war! "The sword rests not by the side of Cuthullin, "bard of the times of old! Morning shall meet

"me on the plain, and gleam on the blue arms "of Semo's son. But sit thou on the heath, O "bard! and let us hear thy voice.

Partake of "the joyful shell: and hear the songs of Temo"ra!"

"This is no time," replied the bard, "to hear the song of joy when the mighty are to meet " in battle, like the strength of the waves of Lego.

66

Why art thou so dark, Slimora!* with all thy "silent woods? No star trembles on thy top. "No moon-beam on thy side. But the meteors "of death are there: the grey watry forms of ghosts. Why art thou dark, Slimora! with

thy silent woods?" He retired, in the sound of his song. Carril joined his voice. The music was like the memory of joys that are past, pleasant and mournful to the soul. The ghosts of departed bards heard on Slimora's side. Soft sounds spread along the wood. The silent valleys of night rejoice. So, when he sits in the silence of the day, in the valley of his breeze, the humming of the mountain bee comes to Ossian's ear: the gale drowns it in its course; but the pleasant * Slia'mor, great hill.

sound returns again! Slant looks the sun on the field! gradual grows the shade of the hill!

"Raise," said Cuthullin, to his hundred bards, "the song of the noble Fingal: that song which "he hears at night, when the dreams of his rest "descend: when the bards strike the distant "harp, and the faint light gleams on Selma's "walls. Or let the grief of Lara rise; the

of

sighs of the mother of Calmar,* when he was 66 sought in vain, on his hills; when she beheld "his bow in the Irall. Carril, place the shield "of Caithbat on that branch. Let the spear "Cuthullin be near; that the sound of my bat"tle may rise, with the grey beam of the east." The hero leaned on his father's shield: the song of Lara rose! The hundred bards were distant far: Carril alone is near the chief. The words of the song were his: the sound of his harp was mournful.

"Alcléthat with the aged locks! mother of "car-borne Calmar! why dost thou look toward "the desert, to behold the return of thy son? "These are not his heroes, dark on the heath: 66 nor is that the voice of Calmar. It is but the "distant grove, Alclétha! but the roar of the

Calmar, the son of Matha. His death is related at large in the third book of Fingal. He was the only son of Matha; and the family was extinct in him. The seat of the family was on the banks of the river Laga, in the neighbourhood of Lego, and probably near the place where Cuthullin lay; which circumstance suggested to him, the lamentation of Alclétha over her son.

+ Ald-cla'tha, decaying beauty: probably a poetical name given the mother of Calmar, by the bard himself.

"mountain-wind!"-" Who bounds over Lara's "stream, sister of the noble Calmar? Does not "Alclétha behold this spear?

But her eyes are

"dim! Is it not the son of Matha, daughter of

"my love?"

Alclétha!" replied "It is but an oak,

"It is but an aged oak, the lovely weeping Alona.† "Alclétha, bent over Lara's stream. But who રે comes along the plain? sorrow is in his speed. "He lifts high the spear of Calmar. Alclétha, "it is covered with blood!"- -"But it is covered "with the blood of foes, sister of car-borne "Calmar! His spear never returned unstained "with blood: nor his bow from the strife of the "mighty. The battle is consumed in his presence: "he is a flame of death, Alona! Youths of the "mournful speed!. where is the son of Alclétha? "Does he return with his fame, in the midst of "his echoing shields? Thou art dark and silent! "Calmar is then no more! Tell me not, warrior, "how he fell. I must not hear of his wound!" Why dost thou look towards the desert, mother of low-laid Calmar?

Such was the song of Carril, when Cuthullin lay on his shield. The bards rested on their harps.

*Alclétha speaks. Calmar had promised to return by a certain day, and his mother and his sister Alona are represented as looking, with impatience, towards that quarter where they expected Cahnar should make his first appearance.

+ Alùine, exquisitely beautiful. Alclétha speaks.

She addresses herself to Larnir, Calmar's friend, who had returned with the news of his death.

Sleep fell softly around.

awake alone.

The son of Semo was His soul was fixed on war. The

burning oaks began to decay. Faint red light is

spread around.

A feeble voice is heard! The

ghost of Calmar came! He stalked dimly along Dark is the wound in his side.

the beam.

His

hair is disordered and loose. Joy sits pale on his

face.

He seems to invite Cuthullin to his cave. "Son of the cloudy night!" said the rising chief of Erin. "Why dost thou bend thy dark

"eyes on me,

ghost of the noble Calmar?

"Wouldst thou frighten me, O Matha's son! "from the battles of Cormac? Thy hand was "not feeble in war: neither was

thy voice for

chief of Lara!

But, Calmar,

66 peace. How art thou changed, if thou now dost advise to fly! "I never fled. I never feared the ghosts of night. "Small is their knowledge, weak their hands; "their dwelling is in the wind. But my soul

grows in danger, and rejoices in the noise of "steel. Retire thou to thy cave. Thou art not "Calmar's ghost. He delighted in battle. His

arm was like the thunder of heaven!" He retired in his blast with joy, for he had heard the voice of his praise.

The faint beam of the morning rose. The sound of Caithbat's buckler spread. Green Erin's warriors convened, like the roar of many streams. The horn of war is heard over Lego. The mighty Torlath came! 66 Why dost thou come with

"thy thousands, Cuthullin?" said the chief of Lego. "I know the strength of thy arm. Thy "soul is an unextinguished fire. Why fight we "not on the plain, and let our hosts behold our "deeds? Let them behold us like roaring waves, "that tumble round a rock; the mariners hasten and look on their strife with fear."

66 away,

"Thou risest, like the sun, on my soul," replied the son of Semo. "Thine arm is mighty, "O Torlath! and worthy of my wrath. Retire, ye men of Ullin, to Slimora's shady side. Be"hold the chief of Erin, in the day of his fame. "Carril! tell to mighty Connal, if Cuthullin must "fall, tell him I accused the winds, which roar "on Togorma's waves. Never was he absent in "battle, when the strife of my fame arose. Let "his sword be before Cormac, like the beam of "heaven. Let his counsel sound in Temora, in "the day of danger!"

He rushed, in the sound of his arms, like the terrible spirit of Loda,* when he comes, in the roar of a thousand storms, and scatters battles from his eyes. He sits on a cloud over Lochlin's seas. His mighty hand is on his sword. Winds lift his flaming locks! The waning moon halflights his dreadful face. His features blended in darkness arise to view. So terrible was Cuthul

* Loda, in the third book of Fingal, is mentioned as a place of worship in Scandinavia; by the spirit of Leda, the poet probably means Odin, the great deity of the northern nations. He is described here with all his terrors.