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breast of snow beats high. The son of Favi leaves the dark-brown hind. It is the shield of war, said Ronnar! the spear of Cuthullin, said Lugar! son of the sea put on thy arms! Calmar, lift thy sounding steel! Puno! dreadful hero, arise! Cairbar from thy red tree of Cromla! Bend thy knee, O Eth! descend from the streams of Lena. Ca-olt stretch thy side as thou movest along the whistling heath of Mora: thy side that is white as the foam of the troubled sea, when the dark winds pour it on rocky Cuthon. *

Now I behold the chiefs, in the pride of their former deeds! Their souls are kindled at the battles of old; at the actions of other times. Their eyes are flames of fire. They roll in search of the foes of the land, Their mighty hands are on their swords. Lightning pours from their sides of steel. They come like streams from the mountains; each rushes roaring from his hill. Bright are the chiefs of battle, in the armour of their fathers. Gloomy and dark their heroes follow, like the gathering of the rainy clouds behind the red meteors of heaven. The sounds of crashing arms ascend. The grey dogs howl between. Unequal bursts the song of battle. Rocking Cromla † echoes round. On Lena's dusky heath they stand, like mist that shades the hills of

* Cu-thon, the mournful sound of waves.

+ Crom-leach signified a place of worship among the Druids. It is here the proper name of a hill on the coast of Ullin or Ulster.

autumn: when broken and dark it settles high, and lifts its head to heaven!

"Hail," said Cuthullin, "sons of the narrow vales! hail, hunters of the deer! Another sport is drawing near: It is like the dark rolling of that wave on the coast! Or shall we fight, ye sons of war! or yield green Erin * to Lochlin! O Connal+ speak, thou first of men! thou breaker of the shields! thou hast often fought with Lochlin: wilt thou lift thy father's spear?

"the spear

"Cuthullin!" calm the chief replied, of Connal is keen. It delights to shine in battle; to mix with the blood of thousands. But though my hand is bent on fight, my heart is for the peace of Erin ‡. Behold, thou first in Cormac's war, the sable fleet of Swaran. His masts are many on our coast, like reeds in the lake of Lego. His ships are forests cloathed with mist, when the trees yield by turns to the squally wind. Many are his chiefs in battle. Connal is for peace! Fingal would shun his arm the first of mor

* Ireland, so called from a colony that settled there called Falans. Innisfail, the island of the Fa-il or Falans.

+ Connal, the friend of Cuthullin, was the son of Caithbait prince of the Tongorma, or the island of blue waves, probably one of the Hebrides. His mother was Fioncoma the daughter of Congal. He had a son by Foba of Conacharnessar, who was afterwards petty king of Ulster. For his services in the war against Swaran he had lands conferred on him, which, from his name, were called Tir-chonnuil or Tir-connel, i. e. the land of Connal. Erin, a name of Ireland; from ear or iar West, and in an island. This name was not always confined to Ireland, for there is the highest probability that the Ierne of the ancients was Britain to the North of the Forth. For lerne is said to be to the North of Britain, which could not be meant of Ireland.-Strabo, 1. 2 and 4. Casaub. 1. 1.

tal men! Fingal, who scatters the mighty, as stormy, winds the heath; when streams roar througli echoing Cona: and night settles with all her clouds on the hill!

"Fly, thou man of, peace," said Calmar," "fly," said the son of Matha; 66 'go, Connal, to thy silent hills, where the spear never brightens in war! Pursue the dark-brown deer of Cromla: stop with thine arrows the bounding roes of Lena. But, blueeyed son of Semo, Cuthullin, ruler of the field, scatter thou the sons of Lochlin; † roar through the ranks of their pride. Let no vessel of the kingdom of Snow bound on the dark-rolling waves of Inis-tore. Rise, ye dark winds of Erin rise! roar whirlwinds of Lara of hinds! Amid the tempest let me die, torn, in a cloud, by angry ghosts of men; amid the tempest let Calmar die, if ever chace was sport to him, so much as the battle of shields!"

The

"Calmar!" Connal slow replied, "I never fled, young son of Matha! I was swift with my friends in fight; but small is the fame of Connal! battle was won in my presence; the valiant overcame! But, son of Semo, hear my voice, regard the ancient throne of Cormac. Give wealth and

*Calm-er, a strong man.

The Galic name of Scandinavia in general.

The Orkney islands.

half the land for peace, till Fingal shall arrive on our coast. Or, if war be thy choice, I lift the sword and spear. My joy shall be in the midst of thousands: my soul shall lighten through the gloom of the fight!"

"To me," Cuthullin replies, "pleasant is the noise of arms! pleasant as the thunder of heaven, before the shower of spring! But gather all the shining tribes that I may view the sons of war! Let them pass along the heath, bright as the sunshine before a storm; when the west wind collects the clouds and Morven echoes over all her oaks! But where are my friends in battle? The sup

*

porters of my arm in danger? Where art thou, white-bosomed Cathbar? Where is that cloud in war, Duchomar? Hast thou left me, O Fergus !+ in the day of the storm? Fergus, first in our joy at the feast! son of Rossa! arm of death! comest thou like a roe from Malmor. Like a hart from thy echoing hills? Hail thou son of Rossa! what shades the soul of war?"

"Four stones,” replied the chief, "rise on the

* Dubhchomar, a black well-made man.

Fear-guth, the man of the word; or a commander of an army.

This passage alludes to the manner of burial among the ancient Scots. They opened a grave six or eight feet deep; the bottom was lined with fine clay: and on this they laid the body of the deceased, and, if a warrior, his sword, and the heads of twelve arrows by his side. Above they laid another stratum of clay, in which they placed the horn of a deer, the symbol of hunting. The whole was covered with a fine mould, and four stones placed on end to mark the extent of the grave. These are the four stones alluded to here,

grave of Cathba. These hands have laid in earth Duchomar, that cloud in war! Cathba, son of Torman! thou wert a sun-beam in Erin. And thou, O valiant Duchomar, a mist of the marshy Lano; when it moves on the plains of autumn, bearing the death of thousands along. Morna! fairest of maids! calm is thy sleep in the cave of the rock! Thou hast fallen in darkness, like a star, that shoots across the desert; when the traveller is alone, and mourns the transient beam!"

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Say," said Semo's blue eyed son, say how fell the chiefs of Erin? Fell they by the sons of Lochlin, striving in the battle of heroes? Or what confines the strong in arms to the dark and narrow house?"

"Cathba,” replied the hero, " fell by the sword of Duchomar at the oak of the noisy streams. Duchomar came to Tura's cave; he spoke to the lovely Morna. Morna, fairest among women, lovely daughter of strong-armed Cormac? Why in the circle of stones? in the cave of the rock alone? The stream murmurs along. The old tree groans in the wind. The lake is troubled before thee; dark are the clouds of the sky! But thou art snow on the heath; thy hair is the mist of Cromla; when it curls on the hill; when it shines to the beam of the west! Thy breasts are two smooth rocks seen from Branno

* Muirne, or Morna, a woman beloved by all.

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