"for fall I must without fame. Mine arm can"not lift the steel. Let not Evir-choma hear it, "to blush between her locks. Fillan, the mighty "behold us! Let us not forget the strife. Why "should they come, from their hills, to aid our 'flying field?"

He strode onward with the sound of his shield. My voice pursued him as he went. "Can the "son of Morni fall, without his fame in Erin? "But the deeds of the mighty are forgot by "themselves. They rush careless over the fields "of renown. Their words are never heard!" I rejoiced over the steps of the chief. I strode to the rock of the king, where he sat, in his wandering locks, amid the mountain-wind!

In two dark ridges bend the hosts toward each other, at Lubar. Here Foldath rises a pillar of darkness: there brightens the youth of Fillan. Each with his spear in the stream, sent forth the voice of war. Gaul struck the shield of Selma. At once they plunge in battle! Steel pours its gleam on steel: like the fall of streams shone the field, when they mix their foam together, from two dark-browed rocks! Behold he comes, the son of fame! He lays the people low! Death sits on blasts around him! Warriors strew thy paths, O Fillan!

Rothmar,* the shield of warriors, stood be

* Roth-mar, the sound of the sea before a storm. Druman-ard high ridge. Culmin, soft-haired. Cul-allin, beautiful locks. Strutha, streamy river.

tween two chinky rocks. Two oaks, which winds had bent from high, spread their branches on either side. He rolls his darkening eyes on Fillan, and, silent, shades his friends. Fingal saw the approaching fight. The hero's soul arose. But as the stone of Loda* falls, shook, at once, from rocking Druman-ard, when spirits heave the earth in their wrath; so fell blue-shielded Rothmar.

Near are the steps of Culmin. The youth came bursting into tears. Wrathful he cut the wind, ere yet he mixed his strokes with Fillan. He had first bent the bow with Rothmar, at the rock of his own blue streams. There they had marked the place of the roe, as the sun-beam flew over the fern. Why, son of Cul-allin! Why, Culmin, dost thou rush on that beam† of light?

* By the stone of Loda is meant a place of worship among the Scandinavians. The Caledonians, in their many expeditions to Orkney and Scandinavia, became acquainted with some of the rites of the religion which prevailed in those countries, and the ancient poetry frequently alludes to them. There are some ruins, and circular pales of stones, remaining still in Orkney, and the islands of Shetland, which retain, to this day, the name of Loda or Loden. They seem to have differed materially, in their construction, from those Druidical monuments which remain in Britain and the western isles. The places of worship among the Scandinavians were originally rude and unadorned. In after ages, when they opened a communication with other nations, they adopted their manners, and built temples. That at Upsal, in Sweden, was amazingly rich and magnificent. Harquin, of Norway, built one, near Drontheim, little inferior to the former; and it went always under the name of Loden. Mallet, introduction à l'histoire de Dannemarc.

+ The poet, metaphorically, calls Fillan a beam of light. Culmin, mentioned here, was the son of Clonmar, chief of Strutha, by the beautiful Cul-allin. She was so remarkable for the beauty of her person, that she is introduced, frequently, in the similies and allusions of ancient poetry. Mar Chulaluin Strutha nan sian; Lovely as Cul-allin of Strutha of the storms.

Son of Cul-allin, re

It is a fire that consumes. tire. Your fathers were not equal, in the glittering strife of the field. The mother of Culmin remains in the hall. She looks forth on bluerolling Strutha. A whirlwind rises, on the stream, dark eddying round the ghost of her son. His dogs* are howling in their place. His shield is bloody in the ball. "Art thou fallen, my fair"haired son, in Erin's dismal war?"

As a roe, pierced in secret, lies panting, by her wonted streams, the hunter surveys her feet of wind! He remembers her stately bounding before. So lay the son of Cul-allin beneath the eye of Fillan. His hair is rolled in a little His blood wanders on his shield. Still bis hand holds the sword, that failed him in the midst of danger. "Thou art fallen," said Fillan,

stream.

ere yet thy fame was heard. Thy father sent "thee to war. He expects to hear of thy deeds. "He is grey, perhaps, at his streams. His eyes

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are toward Moi-lena. But thou shalt not re"turn with the spoil of the fallen foe!"

Fillan pours the flight of Erin before him, over

* Dogs were thought to be sensible of the death of their master, let it happen at ever so great a distance. It was also the opinion of the times. that the arms which warriors left at home became bloody, when they themselves fell in battle. It was from those signs that Cul-allin is supposed to understand that her son is killed; in which she is confirmed by the appearance of his ghost. Her sudden and short exclamation is more judicious in the poet, than if she had extended her complaints to a greater length. The attitude of the fallen youth, and Fillan's reflections over him, come forcibly back on the mind, when we consider, that the supposed situation of the father of Culmin, was so similar to that of Fingal, after the death of Fillan himself.

the resounding heath. But, man on man, fell Morven before the dark-red rage of Foldath: for, far on the field, he poured the roar of half his tribes. Dermid stands before him in wrath. The sons of Selma gathered around. But his shield is cleft by Foldath. His people fly over the heath.

Then said the foe, in his pride, "They have "fled. My fame begins! Go, Malthos, go bid "Cathmor guard the dark-rolling of ocean; that

Fingal may not escape from my sword. He "must lie on earth. Beside some fen shall his "tomb be seen. It shall rise without a song. "His ghost shall hover, in mist, over the reedy "pool."

-Malthos heard, with darkening doubt. He rolled his silent eyes. He knew the pride of Foldath. He looked up to Fingal on his hills: then darkly turning, in doubtful mood, he plunged his sword in war.

In Clono's* narrow vale, where bend two trees

* This valley had its name from Clono, son of Lethmal of Lora, one of the ancestors of Dermid, the son of Duthmo. His history is thus related in an old poem. In the days of Conar, the son of Trenmor, the first king of Ireland, Clono passed over into that kingdom, from Caledonia, to aid Conar against the Fir-bolg. Being remarkable for the beauty of his person, he soon drew the attention of Sulmin, the young wife of an Irish chief. She disclosed her passion, which was not properly returned by the Caledonian. The lady sickened, through disappointment, and her love for Clono came to the ears of her husband. Fired with jealousy, he vowed revenge. Clono, to avoid his rage, departed from Temora, in order to pass over into Scotland; and being benighted in the valley mentioned here, he laid him down to sleep. There Lethmal descended in the dreams of Clono, and told him thut danger was near.

above the stream, dark, in his grief, stood Duthno's silent son. The blood pours from the side of Dermid. His shield is broken near. His spear leans against a stone. Why, Dermid, why so sad? "I hear the roar of battle. My people

are alone. My steps are slow on the heath; "and no shield is mine. Shall he then prevail? "It is then after Dermid is low! I will call thee "forth, O Foldath! and meet thee yet in fight." He took his spear with dreadful joy. The son of Morni came. Stay son of Duthno, stay thy "speed. Thy steps are marked with blood. No

bossy shield is thine. Why shouldst thou fall “unarmed?"—"Son of Morni! give thou thy "shield. It has often rolled back the war. I "shall stop the chief in his course. Son of Mor"ni! behold that stone! It lifts its grey head

Ghost of Lethmal. "Arise from thy bed of moss; son of low-laid *Lethmal, arise. The sound of the coming of foes descends along *the wind.

Clono. "Whose voice is that, like many streams in the season of my rest?

Ghost of Lethmal.

son of Lethmal, arise.

"Arise, thou dweller of the souls of the lovely i

Clono. "How dreary is the night! The moon is darkened in the "sky; red are the paths of ghosts along its sullen face! Green-skirted "meteors set around. Dull is the roaring of streams, from the valley * of dim forms. I hear thee, spirit of my father, on the eddying course "of the wind. I hear thee; but thou bendest not, forward, thy tall "form, from the skirts of night."

As Clono prepared to depart, the husband of Sulmin came up, with his numerous attendants. Clono defended himself, but after a gallant resistence, he was overpowered and slain. He was buried in the place where he was killed, and the valley was called after his name. Der mid, in his request to Gaul, the son of Morni, which immediately fol lows this paragraph, alludes to the tomb of Clono, and his own cen nexion with that unfortunate chief.