Their fwords Red rolled crona. Their chiefs were before them. Each ftrove to lead the war. were often half-unfheathed. their eyes of rage. Separate they stood, and hummed their furly fongs. "Why should they yield to each other? their fathers were equal in war." Trenmor was there, with his people, ftately in youthful locks. He faw the advancing foe. The grief of his foul arofe. He bade the chiefs to lead, by turns they led, but they were rolled. away. From his own moffy hill, bluefhielded Trenmor came down. He led wide-skirted battle, and the ftrangers failed. Around him the dark-browed warriors came they ftruck the fhield of joy. Like a pleasant gale, the words of power rushed forth from Selma of kings. But the chiefs led, by turns, in war, till mighty danger rofe: then was the hour of the king to conquer in the field. "Not unknown," faid Cromma-glafs * of shields, "are the deeds of our fathers. But * In tradition, this Cromma-glafs makes a great figure in that battle which Comhal loft, together with his life, to the tribe of Morni. I have juft now, in my hands, an Irish compofition, of a very modern date, as appears from the language, in which all the traditions, concerning that decifive engagement, are jumbled together. In juftice to the merit of the poem, I fhould have here prefented to the reader a translation of it, did not the bard mention fome circumftances But who fhall now lead the war, before the race of kings? Mift fettles on these four dark hills within it let each warrior strike his shield. Spirits may descend in darkness, and mark us for the war." They went, each to his hill of mift. Bards marked the founds of the shields. Loudeft rung thy bofs, Duth-maruno. Thou muft lead in war! Like the murmur of waters, the race of U-thorno came down. Starno led the battle, and Swaran of ftormy ifles. They looked forward from iron fhields, like Cruth-loda fiery-eyed, when he looks from behind the darkened moon, and ftrews his very ridiculous, and others altogether indecent. Morna, the wife of Comhal, had a principal hand in all the tranfactions previous to the defeat and death of her husband; fhe, to use the words of the bard, who was the guiding ftar of the women of Erin. The bard, it is to be hoped, mifreprefented the ladies of his country, for Morna's behaviour was, according to him, fo void of all decency and virtue, that it cannot be fuppofed, they had chofen her for their guiding star. The poem confifts of many ftanzas. The language is figurative, and the numbers harmonious; but the piece is fo full of anachronisms, and fo unequal in its compofition, that the author, moft undoubtedly, was either mad, or drunk, when he wrote it. It is worthy of being remarked, that Comhal is, in this poem, very often called, Combal na h' Albin, or Comhal of Albion, which fufficiently demonftrates, that the allegations of Keating and O'Flaherty, concerning Fion Mac-Comnal, are but of late invention. ΙΟ figns figns on night. The foes met by Turthor's ftream. They heaved like ridgy waves. Their echoing ftrokes are mixed. Shadowy death flies over the hofts. They were clouds of hail, with fqually winds in their fkirts. Their fhowers are roaring together. Below them fwells the dark-rolling deep. Strife of gloomy U-thorno, why should I mark thy wounds! Thou art with the years that are gone; thou fadeft on my foul! Starno brought forward his skirt of war, and Swaran his own dark wing. Nor a harmless fire is Duth-maruno's fword. Lochlin is rolled over her ftreams. The wrathful kings are loft in thought. They roll their filent eyes, over the flight of their land. The horn of Fingal was heard; the fons of woody Albion returned. But many lay, by Turthor's ftream, filent in their blood. "Chief of Crathmo," faid the king, "Duth-maruno, hunter of boars! nót harmless returns my eagle from the field of foes! For this white-bofomed Lanul fhall brighten, at her ftreams; Candona fhall rejoice, as he wanders in Crathmo's fields." "Colgorm*, * " replied the chief, "was the *The family of Duth-maruno, it appears, came originally from Scandinavia, or, at leaft, from fome the first of my race in Albion; Colgorm, the rider of ocean, through its watry vales. He flew his brother in I-thorno *: he left the land of his fathers. He chofe his place, in filence, by rocky Crathmo-craulo. His race came forth, in their years; they came forth to war, but they always fell. The wound of my fathers is mine, king of echoing ifles! "He drew an arrow from his fide! He fell pale, in a land unknown. His foul came forth to his fathers, to their stormy ifle. There they pursued boars of mift, along the fkirts of winds. The chiefs ftood filent around, as the ftones of Loda, on their hill. The traveller fees them, through the twilight, from his lonely path, He thinks them the ghofts of the aged, forming future wars. "Night came down, on U-thorno. Still ftood the chiefs in their grief. The blaft of the northern ifles, fubject, in chief, to the kings of Lochlin. The Highland fenachies, who never miffed to make their comments on, and additions to, the works of Offian, have given us a long lift of the ancestors of Duth-maruno, and a particular account of their actions, many of which are of the marvellous kind. One of the tale-makers of the north has chosen for his hero, Starnmor, the father of Duth-maruno, and, confidering the adventures through which he has led him, the piece is neither difagreeable, nor abounding with that kind of fiction which fhocks credibility. * An island of Scandinavia. 3 whistled, whiftled, by turns, through every warrior's hair. Fingal, at length, broke forth from the thoughts of his foul. He called Ullin of harps, and bade the fong to rife. "No falling fire, that is only feen, and then retires in night; no departing meteor was he that is laid fo low. He was like the ftrongbeaming fun, long rejoicing on his hill. Call the names of his fathers, from their dwellings old!" I-thorno*, faid the bard, that risest midft ridgy feas! Why is thy head fo gloomy, in the ocean's mift? From thy vales came forth a race, fearless as thy ftrong-winged eagles; the race of Colgorm of iron shields, dwellers of Loda's hall. In Tormoth's refounding ifle, arose Lurthan, ftreamy hill. It bent its woody head over a filent vale. There, at foamy Cru *This epifode is, in the original, extremely beautiful. It is fet to that wild kind of music, which fome of the Highlanders diftinguish, by the title of Fon Oimarra, or, the Song of mermaids. Some part of the air is abfolutely infernal, but there are many returns in the measure, which are inexpreffibly wild and beautiful. From the genius of the mufic, I fhould think it came originally from Scandinavia, for the fictions delivered down concerning the Oi-marra (who are reputed the authors of the mufic), exactly correfpond with the notions of the northern nations, concerning their dire, or goddesses of death.-Of all the names in this episode, there is none of a Galic original, except Strina-dona, which fignifies, the strife of heroes. C 4 ruth's |