TEM ORA:

AN

EPIC POE M*.

T

HE blue waves of Ullin roll in light.

The green hills are covered with day. Trees shake their dusky heads in the breeze; and gray torrents pour their noify ftreams.---Two

green

Though the history which is the foundation of the prefent poem, was given in the notes on the two pieces preceding, it may not be here improper to recapitulate fome part of what has been faid. Immediately after the death of Cuchullin, Cairbar, lord of Atha, openly set up for himself in Connaught, and having privately murdered young king Cormac, became, without oppofition, fole monarch of Ireland. The murder of Cormac was fo much resented by Fingal, that he refolved on an expedition into Ireland against Cairbar. Early intelligence of his designs came to Cairbar, and he had gathered the tribes together into Ulfter, to oppofe Fingal's landing; at the fame time his brother Cathmor kept himself with an army near Temora.-This Cathmor is one of the finest characters in the old poetry. His humanity, generofity, and hospitality, were unparalleled: in fhort, he had no fault, but too much attachment to fo bad a brother as Cairbar.— The prefent poem has its name from Temora, the royal palace of the Irish kings, near which the laft and decifive battle was fought between Fingal and Cathmor. What has come to the tranflator's

R

green hills, with their aged oaks, furround a narrow plain. The blue courfe of the mountain-ftream is there; Cairbar ftands on its banks.

-His fpear fupports the king: the red eyes of his fear are fad. Cormac rifes in his foul, with all his ghaftly wounds. The gray form of

tranflator's hands, in a regular connection, is little more than the opening of the poem.-This work appears, from the story of it, which is fill preferv'd, to have been one of the greatest of Offian's compofitions. The variety of the characters makes it interefting; and the war, as it is carried on by Fingal and Cathmor, affords inftances of the greatest bravery, mixed with incomparably generous actions and fentiments. One is at

lofs for which fide to declare himself: and often wishes, when both commanders march to battle, that both may return victorious. At length the good fortune of Fingal preponderates, and the family of Cormac are re-established on the Irish throne.

The Irish traditions relate the affair in another light, and exclaim against Fingal for appointing thirty judges, or rather tyrants, at Temora, for regulating the affairs of Ireland. They pretend to enumerate many acts of oppreffion committed by those judges; and affirm, that both they and a part of Fingal's army, which was left in Ireland to enforce their laws, were at laft expelled the kingdom.-Thus the Irish traditions, fay the hiftorians of that nation. It is faid, however, that thofe gentlemen fometimes create facts, in order afterwards to make remarks upon them; at least, that they adopt for real facts, the traditions of their bards, when they throw luftre on the ancient state of their country.

The prefent poem opens in the morning. Cairbar is repre fented as retired from the rest of the Irish chiefs, and tormented with remorfe for the murder of Cormac, when news was brought him of Fingal's landing. What paffed, preceding that day, and is neceflary to be known for carrying on the poem, is afterwards introduced by way of epifode.

the

the youth appears in the midst of darkness, and the blood pours from his airy fides.---Cairbar. thrice threw his fpear on earth; and thrice he ftroked his beard. His fteps are fhort; he often ftopt and toffed his finewy arms. He is like a cloud in the defart; that varies its form to every blast: the valleys are fad around, and fear, by turns, the fhower.

THE king, at length, refumed his foul, and took his pointed fpear. He turned his eyes towards Lena. The fcouts of the ocean appeared. They appeared with fteps of fear, and often looked behind. Cairbar knew that the mighty were near, and called his gloomy chiefs. The founding fteps of his heroes came. They drew, at once, their fwords. There Morlath flood with darkened face. Hidalla's bushy hair fighs in the wind. Red-haired Cormar bends on his fpear, and rolls his fide-long-looking eyes. Wild is the look of Malthos from beneath two fhaggy brows.---Foldath ftands like an oozy rock, that covers its dark fides with foam; his

*The scene defcribed here is nearly that of the epic poem, Fingal. In this neighbourhood alfo the fons of Ufnoth were killed.

† Mór-lath, great in the day of battle. Hidalla', wildly looking hero. Cor-mar, expert at fea. Múlth-os, flow to Speak. Foldath, generous.

fpear is like Slimora's fir, that meets the wind

of heaven.

His fhield is marked with the strokes

of battle; and his red

and his red eye defpifes danger. These and a thoufand other chiefs furrounded car-borne Cairbar, when the fcout of ocean came, Mor-annal *, from ftreamy Lena.---His eyes hang forward from his face, his lips are trembling, pale.

Do the chiefs of Erin ftand, he said, filent as the grove of evening? Stand they, like a filent wood, and Fingal on the coaft? Fingal, who is terrible in battle, the king of streamy Morven.

AND haft thou feen the warrior, faid Cairbar with a figh? Are his heroes many on the coaft? Lifts he the fpear of battle? Or comes the king in peace?

He comes not in peace, O Cairbar: for I have feen his forward fpear. It is a meteor of death the blood of thoufands is on its fteel.

fcout.

He came firft to the fhore, ftrong in the

Mór-annail, frong breath; a very proper name for a

+ Mor-annal here alludes to the particular appearance of Fingal's fpear. If a man, upon his first landing in a strange country, kept the point of his fpear forward, it denoted in those days that he came in a hostile manner, and accordingly he was treated as an enemy; if he kept the point behind him, it was a token of friendship, and he was immediately invited to the feast according to the hofpitality of the times.

gray hair of age. Full rofe his finewy limbs, as he strode in his might. That fword is by his fide which gives no fecond* wound. His fhield is terrible, like the bloody moon, when it rifes in a ftorm. Then came Offian king of fongs; and Morni's fon, the firft of men. Connal leaps forward on his fpear: Dermid fpreads his dark-brown locks.---Fillan bends his bow: Fergus ftrides in the pride of youth. Who is that with aged locks? A dark fhield is on his fide. His fpear trembles at every ftep; and age is on his limbs. He bends his dark face to the ground; the king of spears is fad!It is Ufnoth, O Cairbar, coming to revenge his fons. He fees green Ullin with tears, and he remembers the tombs of his children. But far before the reft, the fon of Offian comes, bright in the fmiles of youth, fair as the first beams of the fun. His long hair falls on his back.---His dark brows are half hid beneath his helmet of steel. His fword hangs loofe on the hero's fide. His fpear glitters as he moves. I fled from his terrible eyes, king of high Temora !

*This was the famous fword of Fingal, made by Luno, a smith of Lochlin, and after him poetically called the fon of Luno: it is faid of this sword, that it killed a man at every stroke; and that Fingal never used it, but in times of the greatest danger.