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ARGUMENT.-The fourth morning, from the opening
of the poem, comes on. Fingal still continuing the place, to which he had retired on the preceding night, is seen at intervals, through the mist, which covered the rock of Cormul. The descent of the king is described. He orders Gaul, Dermid, and Carril the bard, to go to the valley of Cluna, and conduct from thence to the Caledonian army, Ferad-artho, the son of Cairbre, the only person remaining of the family of Conar, the first king of Ireland. The king takes the command of the army, and prepares for battle. Marching towards the enemy, he comes to the cave of Lubar where the body of Fillan lay. Upon seeing his dog Bran, who lay at the entrance of the cave, his grief returns. Cathmor arranges the Irish army in order of battle. The appearance of that hero. The general conflict is described. The actions of Fingal and Cathmor. A storm. The total rout of the Fir-bolg. The two kings engage, in a column of mist, on the banks of Lubar. Their attitude and conference after the combat. The death of Cathmor. Fingal resigns the spear of Trenmor to Ossian. The ceremonies observed on that occasion. The spirit of Cathmor in the mean time appears to Sul-malla, in the valley of Lona. Her sorrow. Evening comes on. A feast is prepared. The coming of Ferad-artho nounced by the songs of an hundred bards. The poem closes with a speech of Fingal.
As when the wintry winds have seized the waves of the mountain lake, have seized them in stormy night, and clothed them over with ice; white, to the hunter's early eye, the billows still seem to roll. He turns his ear to the sound of each unequal ridge. But each is silent, gleaming, strewn with
boughs and tufts of grass, which shake and whistle to the wind, over their grey seats of frost. So silent shone to the morning the ridges of Morven's host, as each warrior looked up from his helmet towards the bill of the king; the cloud covered hill of Fingal, where he strode, in the folds of mist. At times is the hero seen, greatly dim in all his arms. From thought to thought rolled the war, along his mighty soul.
Now is the coming forth of the king. First appeared the sword of Luno; the spear half-issuing from a cloud, the shield still dim in mist. But when the stride of the king came abroad, with all his grey, dewy locks in the wind; then rose the shonts of his host over every moving tribe. They gathered gleaming round, with all their echoing shields. So rise the green seas round a spirit, that comes down from this squally wind. The traveller hears the sound afar, and lifts his head over the rock. He looks on the troubled bay, and thinks he dimly sees the form. The waves sport, unwieldy, round, with all their backs of foam.
Far distant stood the son of Morni, Duthno's race, and Cona's bard. We stood far distant; each beneath his tree. We shunned the eyes of the king: we had not conquered in the field. A little stream rolled at my feet: I touched its light wave with my spear. I touched it with my spear; nor there was the soul of Ossian. It darkly
rose from thought to thought, and sent abroad the sigh. “ Son of Morni," said the king, “ Dermid,
, “ hunter of roes! why are ye dark, like two rocks, “ each with its trickling waters? No wrath “ gathers on Fingal's soul, against the chiefs of
Ye are my strength in battle; the kindling of my joy in peace. My early voice has “ been a pleasant gale to your ears, when Fillan “ prepared the bow. The son of Fingal is not “ liere, nor yet the chase of the bounding roes. “ But why should the breakers of shields stand, “ darkened, far away?"
Tall they strode towards the king; they saw him turned to Mora's wind. His tears came down for his blue-eyed son, who slept in the cave of streams. But he brightened before them, and spoke to the broad shielded kings.
“ Cronımal, with woody rocks, and misty top, “ the field of winds, pour forth, to the sight, blue “ Lubar's streamy roar.
Behind it rolls clearwinding Lavath, in the still vale of deer. A cave " is dark in a rock; above it strong-winged eagles “ dwell; broad-headed oaks before it, sound in “ Cluna's wind. Within, in his locks of youth, is " Ferad-artho,* blue-eyed king, the son of broad
* Ferad-artho was the son of Cairbar Mac.Cormac bing of Ireland. He was the only one remaining of the race of Conar, the son of Trenmor, the first Irish monarch, according to Ossian. In order to make this passage thoroughly understood, it may not be improper to recapipulate some part of what has been said in preceding nutes. Upon the death of Conar the son of Trenmor, his son Cormac succeedel on the Irish throne. Cormac reigned long. His children were, Cairbar, who succeeded him, and Ros-crana, the first wife of Fingal. Cairbar, long before the death of his father Cormac, had taken to wife Bosgala, the daughter of Colgar, one of the most powerful chiefs in Connaught, and bad, by her, Artho, afterwards king of Ireland. Soon after Artho arrived at man's estate, his mother Bos-gala died, and Cairbar married Beltanno, the daughter of Conachar of Ullin, who brought him a son, whom he called Ferad-artho, i. e, a man in the place of Artho. The occasion of the name was this: Artho, when his brother was born, was absent, on an expedition, in the south of Ireland. A false report was brought to his father, that he was killed. Cairbar, to use the words of a poem on the subject, darkened for his fair-haired son. He turned to the young beam of light, the son of Baltanno of Conachar. Thou shalt be Ferad-artho, he said, a fire before thy race. Cairbar, soon after, died, nor did Artho long survive him. Ar tho was succeeded, in the Irish throne, by his son Cormac, who in his minority, was murdered by Cairbar, the son of Borbar-duthul. Fe rad-artho, says tradition, was very young, when the expedition of Fingal, to settle him on the throne of Ireland, happened. During the short reign of young Cormac, Ferad-artho lived at the royal residence of Temora. Upon the murder of the king, Condan, the bard, conveyed Ferad-artho, privately, to the cave of Cluna, behind the mountain Crommal, in Ulster, where they both lived concealed, during the usurpation of the family of Atha. A late bard has delivered the whole history, in a poem just now in my possession. It has little merit, if we except the scene between Ferad-artho, and the messengers of Fingal, upon their arrival, in the valley of Cluna. After hearing of the great actions of Fingal, the young prince proposes the following questions concerning him, to Gaul and Dermid: “Is the king “tall as the rock of my cave? Is his spear a fir of Cluna ? Is he a “ rough-winged blast, on the mountain, which takes the green oak by “ the head, and tears it from its hill? Glitters Lubar within his stride, * when he sends his stately steps along ?” “ Nor is he tall, said Gaul,
* shielded Cairbar, from Ullin of the roes.
He s listens to the voice of Condan, as, grey, he * bends in feeble light. He listens, for his foes “ dwell in the echoing halls of Temora. He
comes at times, abroad, in the skirts of mists, “ to pierce the bounding roes. When the sun “ looks on the field, nor by the rock, nor stream, ' is he! He shuns the race of Bolga, who dwell “ in his father's hall. Tell bim, that Fingal lifts “ the spear, and that his foes, perhaps may fail.'
as that rock: nor glitter streams within his strides; bat his soul is Ha mighty flood, like the strength of Ullin's seas."
“ Lift up, O Gaul, the shield before him. “ Stretch, Dermid, Temora's spear.
Be thy “ voice in his ear, O Carril, with the deeds of his “ fathers. Lead him to green Moi-lena, to the “ dusky field of ghosts; for there I fall forward, « in battle, in the folds of war. Before dun “ night descends, come to high Dunmora's top. Look, from the
grey skirts of mist, on Lena of “ the streams. If there my standard shall float “ on wind, over Lubar's gleaming stream, then “ has not Fingal failed in the last of his fields."
Such were his words; nor aught replied the silent, striding kings. They looked side-long, on Erin's host, and darkened, as they went. Never before had they left the king, in the midst of the stormy field. Behind him, touching at times his harp, the grey-haired Carril moved. He foresaw the fall of the people, and mournful was the sound! It was like a breeze that comes, by fits, over Lego's reedy lake; when sleep half-descends on the hunter, within his mossy cave.
Why bends the bard of Cona,” said Fingal, « over the secret streamı ? Is this a time for sor“ row, father of low-laid Oscar ? Be the war“ riors * remembered in peace; when echoing
* Malvina is supposed to speak the following soliloquy. * Malvina is like the bow of the shower, in the secret valley of