the dead, they said, often lightened along his soul. He saw the king of Atha low, beneath his bending tree.

Why art thou dark? said the maid. "The "strife of arms is past. Soon shall he come to

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thy cave, over thy winding streams. The sun "looks from the rocks of the west. The mist "of the lake arise. Grey, they spread on that "hill, the rushy dwelling of roes. From the mist "shall my king appear! Behold, he comes in "his arms. Come to the cave of Clonmal, O

It was the spirit of Cathmor, stalking large, a gleaming form. He sunk by the hollow stream, that roared between the hills. "It was but the "hunter," she said, "who searches for the bed "of the roe. His steps are not forth to war; "his spouse expects him with night. He shall, 'whistling, return with the spoils of the dark"brown hinds." Her eyes were turned to the hill; again the stately form came down. She rose in the midst of joy. He retired again in mist. Gradual vanish his limbs of smoke, and mix with the mountain-wind. Then she knew that he fell! 66 King of Erin, art thou low!" Let Ossian forget her grief; it wastes the soul of age.t

* Cathmor had promised, in the seventh book, to come to the cave of Clonmal, after the battle was over.

+ Tradition relates, that Ossian, the next day after the decisive battle between Fingal and Cathmor, went to find out Sul-malla, in the valley of Lona. His address to her follows:

Evening came down on Moi-lena.

Grey rolled the streams of the land. Loud came forth the voice of Fingal: the beam of oaks arose. The people gathered round with gladness, with gladness blended with shades. They sidelong looked to the king, and beheld his unfinished joy. Pleasant, from the way of the desert, the voice of music came. It seemed, at first, the noise of a stream, far distant on its rocks. Slow it rolled along the hill, like the ruffled wing of a breeze. when it takes the tufted beard of the rocks, in the still season of night. It was the voice of Condan, mixed with Carril's trembling harp. They came, with blue-eyed Ferad-artho, to Mora of the

streams.

Sudden bursts the song from our bards, on Lena: the host struck their shields midst the

"Awake thou daughter of Conmor, from the fern-skirted cavern of "Lone. Awake, thou sun-beam in deserts; warriors one day must "fail. They move forth, like terrible lights; but often their cloud ❝is near. Go to the valley of streams, to the wandering of herds "on Lumon; there dwells, in his lazy mist, the man of many days. "But he is unknown, Sul-malla, like the thistle of the rock of roes; it "shakes its grey beard, in the wind, and falls, unseen of our eyes. Not "such are the kings of men; their departure is a meteor of fire, "which pours its red course from the desert, over the bosom of night. "He is mixed with the warriors of old, those fires that have hid "their heads. At times shall they come forth in song. Not forgot "has the warrior failed. He has not seen, Sul-malla, the fall of a "beam of his own; no fair-haired son, in his blood, young troubler of "the field. I am lonely, young branch of Lumon; I may hear the "voice of the feeble, when my strength shall have failed in years, for young Oscar has ceased, on his field."— * * * *

Sul-malla returned to her own country. She makes a considerable figure in another poem; her behaviour in that piece accounts for that partial regard with which the poet ought to speak of her throughout Temora.

He

sound. Gladness rose brightening on the king, like the beam of a cloudy day, when it rises, on the green hill, before the roar of winds. struck the bossy shield of kings; at once they cease around. The people lean forward, from their spears, towards the voice of their land.*

"Sons of Morven, spread the feast; send the night away in song. Ye have shone around me, and the dark storm is past. My people "are the windy rocks, from which I spread my

eagle-wings, when I rush forth to renown, and "seize it on its field. Ossian, thou hast the spear "of Fingal: it is not the staff of a boy with "which he strews the thistle round, young wan"derer of the field. No: it is the lance of the mighty, with which they stretched forth their "hands to death. Look to thy fathers, my son: they are awful beams. With morning lead "Ferad-artho forth to the echoing halls of Temo

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* Before I finish my notes, it may not be altogether improper to ob viate an objection, which may be made to the credibility of the story of Temora. It may be asked, whether it is probable, that Fingal could perform such actions as are ascribed to him in this book, at an age when his grandson, Oscar, had acquired so much reputation in arms. To this it may be answered, that Fingal was but very young [book 4th] when he took to wife Ros-crana, who soon after became the mother of Ossian. Ossian was also extremely young when he married Ever-allin, the mother of Oscar. Tradition relates that Fingal was but eighteen years old at the birth of his son Ossian; and that Ossian was much about the same age, when Oscar, his son, was born. Oscar, perhaps, might be about twenty, when he was killed, in the battle of Gabhra book 1st]; so the age of Fingal, when the decisive battle was fought between him and Cathmor, was just fifty-six years. In those times of activity and health, the natural strength and vigour of a man was little abated at such an age; so that there is nothing improbable in the actions of Fingal, as related in this book.

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ra.

Remind him of the kings of Erin the

stately forms of old. Let not the fallen be for

got, they were mighty in the field. Let Carril

pour his song, that the kings may rejoice in "their mist. To-morrow I spread my sails to "Selma's shaded walls; where streamy Duthula "winds through the seats of roes."