The Poems of Ossian: Volume 1 [Reprint 2022 ed.] 9783112688366

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THE

POEMS OF

TRANSLATED BY

JAMES MACPHERSON, ESQ. AUTHENTICATED, ILLUSTRATED im EXPLAINED, BY

HUGH CAMPBELL, ESQ., F.A.S. ED.

VOI1IME I.

L E I P S I C. PRINTED

FOR G. J. G O K S C H E \. 1840.

THE POEMS OF

T R A N S L A T E D BY

JAMES MACPHERSON, ESQ. A U T H E N T I C A T E D , I L L U S T R A T E D ANO EXPLAINED, BY

HUGH CAMPBELL, ESQ., F.A.S. ED.

IN T W O

VOLUMES.

VOL.

I.

0 saeer et ma gnus l a b o r , omnia fato E r i p i s , et po p id is d o s a s m o r l a l i b u s c v i i o . . . . . Phars.ilianoitra V i v e t , et a n u l l o ten e t r i 5 damnabitur a v o ! — L U C I N .

L E I P S I C. P R I N T E D

F O R

G.

1840.

J.

G O E S C H E N .

STUTTGART. J. G. COTTA S PRINTING-OFFICE.

PREFACE. The poems of Ossian, appearance, English

have had a most

ever since their

first

dicided influence 011

and it may be added,

German

literature.

Though many doubts have arisen, respecting their authenticity

and though Macpherson,

by his great

partiality for the Scots and his unaccountable prejudice against the Irish, has perhaps, not altogether unjustly,

been suspected

of some

slight

variation

from the original, yet it is apparent that the main body of the p o e m ,

breathing forth the noblest and

most heroic sentiments of a pure and simple race of m e n ,

stamped with that peculiar

characteristic

sadness which pervades all early productions of the Northern nations of E u r o p e , in its rough

and depicting

nature

grandeur and with all the a w e with

PREFACE.

IV

which she inspires an untutored mind, must belong to a time of which there remain now no other than poetic reminiscences. It is therefore with peculiar pleasure we offer to the public the present English edition of the text of Macpherson from the best edition of Campbell,

published,

in London,

in the year 1822

which we have taken great pains to render as correct as possible;

hoping thereby to supply a

great disideratum to the admirers of British literature in Germany. Leipsic, September 15lk 1839.

G. J. Goschen.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I. P.4GB

Fingal,

an E p i c P o e m ,

Lathmon,

I

a Poem,

T h e death of C u t h u i l i n , Dar-Thula,

91 a Poem,

a Poem,

105 .

117

T h e Battle of L o r a , a P o e m ,

135

Cath-Loda, a Poem,

147

C o m a l a , a Dramatic P o e m ,

177

Carric-Thura,

187

Carthon,

a

a Poom, Poem,

205

Oina-Morul, a Poem, Colna-Dona, Oithona,

a

223

Poem,

231

a Poem,

237

Croma, a Poem,

247

Calthoo and Colinal, a P o e m ,

257

The war

of C a r o s , a P o e m ,

#

267

A Dissertation, concerning the -A£ra of U s s i a n ,

277

A Dissertation,

293

concerning

the Poems of Ossiau,

FINGAL, LN E P I C

BOOK i.

POE

ARGUMENT TO BOOK I. O'fTHULLiN of Ireland)

( g e n e r a l o f the I r i s h t r i b e » ,

sitting

alone

Ulster, Carrickfergus,

(the

Cromla a neighbouring Lochlin, chief;

by M o r a n ,

a

enemy.

council

is

beneath

a tree,

other

hill,)

chiefs

having

and

disputes

run

u l l i n , w a s for r e t r e a t i n g ,

of

gone on a hunting party to

one of his scouts.

Connal, the p e t t y k i n g of T o g o r m a ,

king

a castle

i s informed o f the landing o f S w a r a n ,

the son of F i t h i l , held,

in the minority o f C o r m a c , at the gate o f T u r a ,

king of

H e c o n v e n e s the

high about g i v i n g battle to the

and an intimate friend of C u t h -

till F i n g a l , k i n g o f those Caledonians w h o inhabi-

ted the n o r t h - w e s t coast of S c o t l a n d , w h o s e aid had been p r e v i o u s l y solicited, should a r r i v e ; b u t Calmar, the son of Matha, lord of Lara, a c o u n t r y in C o n naught, w a s for e n g a g i n g the enemy immediately. ling to fight, w e n t into the opinion o f Calmar.

Cuthullin,

of himself w i l -

M a r c h i n g t o w a r d s the enemy,

h e m i s s e d three o f his b r a v e s t h e r o e s , F e r g u s , Duchomar, and C£thba. arriving,

tells

Cuthullin

of the death of the t w o other c h i e f s ;

d u c e s the a f f c c t i n g e p i s o d e of M o m a ,

the daughter o f Cormac.

C u t h u l l i n is de.scried at a distance b y S w a r a n ,

Fergus

which introT h e army o f

w h o sent the son o f A r n o to

o b s e r v e the motions o f the e n e m y , w h i l e he h i m s e l f ranged h i s f o r c e s in o r d e r o f battle. chariot,

T h e son of A r n o returning to S w a r a n , d e s c r i b e s to him Cuthullin'* and the terrible

appearance o f that hero.

night coming o n ,

l e a v e s the v i c t o r y undecided.

hospitality

times,

o f the

The

armies

Cuthullin,

engage,

sends to S w a r a n a formal invitation to a f e a s t ,

his bard Carril, the son o f K i n f e n a .

Swaran

but

a c c o r d i n g to the

r e f u s e s to come.

by

Carril relates

to C u t h u l l i n the s t o r y of Grudar and B r a s s o l i s .

A p a r t y , b y Connal's a d v i c e ,

is

sent

the

M

and C.

to

observe

the

enemy;

which

closes

action

of

the

first

duv.

F I N

A N

G A L

E P I C

?

P O E M .

BOOK I. CUTHULLIN 1 sat by Tuva's wall: by the tree of the rustling sound. His spear leaned against a rock. His shield lay on t C u t h u l l i n , the son of Semo and grandson to Caithbath, a druid celebrated i n tradition for h i s w i s d o m and valour. Cuthullin w h e n v e r y young married Bragela t h e daughter of S o r g l a n , and p a s s i n g o v e r into Ireland, lived some time w i t h Connal, grandson b y a daughter to Congal the p e t t y king of Ulster. H i s w i s d o m and v a l o u r in a short time gained him s u c h r e p u t a t i o n , that in the m i n o r i t y of Cormac, the s u p r e m e k i n g of I r e l a n d , he w a s chosen guardian to t h e y o u n g k i n g , and sole manager of the w a r against Swaran, king o f L o c h lin. A f t e r a series of great actions h e w a s killed in battle s o m e w h e r e in Connaught, * in t h e t w e n t y - s e v e n t h y e a r of his age. He w a s so remarkable for h i s s t r e n g t h , that t o describe a s t r o n g man it has passed into a p r o v e r b . " H e has the s t r e n g t h of C u t h u l l i n . " They shew the remaios of h i s palace at D u n s c a i c h , in the I s l e of S k y e j and a stone to w h i c h h e bound h i s d o g L u a t h , goes s t i l l by h i s name. M . — * T h i s is a g r e a t error of t h e t r a n s l a t o r . He w a s killed on the b a n k s of t h e L e g o n , in battle w i t h T o r l a t h , a chief of Connaught — vide death of Cuthullin. C.

A

FIN GAL,

grass, by his side. Amid his thoughts of mighty Carbar, 1 a hero slain by the chief in war; the s c o u t 2 of ocean comes, Moran 3 the son of Fithil! «Arise,» says the youth, «Cuthullin, arise. I see the ships of the north! Many, chief of men, are the foe. Many the heroes of the sea-born Swaran!» «Moran!» replied the blue-eyed chief, «thou ever trcmblest, son of Fithil! Thy fears have increased the foe. It is Fingal, king" of deserts, with aid to green Erin of streams.» «1 beheld their chief,» says Moran, «tall as a glittering rock. His spear is a blasted pine. His shield the rising m o o n ! He sat on the shore! like a cloud of mist on the silent hill! Many, chief of heroes! 1 said, many arc our hands of war. Well art thou named, the Migthy Man: but many mighty men arc seen from Tura's windy walls.» «He spoke,

like a wave on a rock, who in this land

1 Cairbar on C a i r b r e , signifies a strong man. 3 Cuthullin h a v i n g previous intelligence of the invasion intended by S w a ran, s e n t s c o u t s all o v e r the coast of Ullin or U l s t e r , to g i v e e a r l y notice of the first a p p e a r a n c e of the enemy, at the same time that he s e n t M u n a n , the soil of S t i r m a l , tho implore the a s s i s t a n c e of F i n g a l . He himself collected the flower of the I r i s h y o u t h to T u r a , ( C a r r i c k f e r g u s ) a c a s t l e on the c o a s t , to stop the p r o g r e s s of the enemy till Fingal should a r r i v e f r o m Scotland. AVe may conclude f r o m Culhullin's applying so early for foreign aid, that tbe I r i s h w e r e not then so n u m e r o u s as t h e y h a v e since b e e n ; w h i c h is a g r e a t p r e sumption against the high antiquities of that people. W e h a v e t h e testimony of T a c i t u s , that one legion only w a s t h o u g h t s u f f i c i e n t , in the time of A g r i cola, to reduce the w h o l e island u n d e r the R o m a n y o k e ; w h i c h would not probably h a v e been the case had the island been inhabited for any number of c e n t u r i e s before. M. — But the Hoinans w e r e vain and n e v e r attempted it. C. 3 Moran signifies many;

and F i t h i l , or r a t h e r F i l i , an inferior

bard.

4 Fingal, the son of Comhal, and M o r n a the daughter o f T h a d d u . H i s g r a n d father w a s T r a l l i a l , and great g r a n d f a t h e r T r e n m o r , both of whom are o f t e n ini'iiumicii in the poem.

AN EPIC POEM.

5

appears like me? Heroes stand not in my presence: they fall to earth from my hand. Who can meet Swaran in fight ? Who but Fingal, king ofSclma of storms? Once we wrestled on Malmor; 1 our heels overturned the woods. Rocks fell from their place; rivulets, changing their course, fled murmuring from our side. Three days we renewed the strife; heroes stood at a distance and trembled. On the fourth, Fingal says, that the king of the ocean fell! b u t Swaran says, he stood'. Let dark Cuthullin yield to h i m , that is strong as the storms of his land!« «No!» replied the blue-eyed chief, «1 never yield to mortal man! Dark Cuthullin shall be great or dead! Go, son of Fithil, take my spear. Strike the sounding shield of Semo. 2 It hangs at Tura's rustling gate. The sound of pcace is not its voice! My heroes shall hear and obey.« He went. He struck the bossy shield. The hills, the rocks reply. The sound spreads along the wood: deer start by the lake of rocs. Curach 3 leaps from the sounding rock; and Connal of the bloody spear! Crugal's 1 breast of snow beats high. The son of Favi leaves the dark-brown hind. It is the shield of war, said R o n n o r ! 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 E t h ! descend from the streams of Lena. Ca-olt, stretch thy side as thou movest I M c a l - m o r , a gr?at hill. t Cabint, or r a t h e r Cathbait, g r a n d f a t h e r to t h e hero, w a s so r e m a r k a b l e for h i s valour, t h a t h i s shield w a s made u s e of to alarm h i s p o s t e r i t y to the b a t t l e s of the family. W e find F i n g a l making the same u s e of h i s o w n shield in the fourth book. A h o r n w a s t h e m o s t common i n s t r u m e n t to call the army together. 3 C u - r a o c h signifies the madness of 4 Cruth-geal, fair-complesioned.

battle.

FINGAL, 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. 1 Now 1 behold the chiefjs, in the pride of their former deeds! Their souls are kindled tit the battles of old; at the actions of other times. Their eyes are flames of Are. They roll in search of the foes of the land. Their mighty hands arc 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. Rocky Cromla echoes round. On Lena's dusky heath they stand, like mist that shades the hills of 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 d e e r ! Another sport is drawing n e a r : It is like (he dark rolling of that wave on the coast! Or shall we fight, ye sons of war! or yield green Erin 5 to Lochlin! O Connal, 4 speak, thou first of m e n ! thou breaker of the 1 C u - t h o n , the mournful

sound of

waves.

This page alone is s u f f i c i e n t to p r o v e t h e a u t h e n t i c i t y of Ossian w h e n a s sisted by my geographical illustrations.

C.

% Crom-leach signifies a place of w o r s h i p among t h e D r u i d . proper name of a hill on the c o a s t of U l l i n or U l s t e r . Hill near Belfast.

M.

I t is h e r e (he

— N o w the C a v e

C.

3 Ireland, so called from a colony that s e t t l e d t h e r e called F&lans. fail, the island of the F a - i l or F a l a n s .

Innis-

M . — W h e n did the colony s e t t l e ? C.

4 Connal, the friend of Cuthullin, w a s t h e son of Caith-bait, prince of the Tongorma, or the island of blue waves,

probably o n e of t h e Hebrides. H i s m o t h e r

AN EPIC POEM.

7

shields! thou hast often fought with Lochlin : wilt thou lift thy father's spear?» «Cuthullin!» calm the chief replied, «the spear 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, toy heart is for the peace of Erin. 1 Behold, thou first in Cormac's war, the sable fleet ofSwaran. His masts are many on our coast, like reeds in the lake of Lego. 2 His ships are forests clothed with mist, when the trees yield by turns to the squally wind. Many arc his chiefs in battle. Gonnal is for peace! Fingal would shun his arm, the first of mortal men! Fingal, who scatters the mighty, as stormy winds the h e a t h ; when streams roar through echoingCona: and night settles with all her clouds on the hill! «Fly, thou man of peace,» said Calmar. 3 «Fly,» said the son of Matha; «go, Connal, to thy silent hills, where the spear never brightens in w a r ! Pursue the dark-brown deer of Cromla: stop with thine arrows the bounding roes of Lena. * But, blue-eyed son of Semo, Cuthullin, ruler of the field, scatter thou the sons of Lochlin! 5 roar through waB Fioncoma, the daughter of Congal. He had ason byFobaofConacharnessar, 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-conncl, i. e. the Land of Connal. t E r i n , a name of Ireland; from ear or iar W e s t , and in an island. This name was not always confined to Ireland, for there is the highest probability that the lerne of the ancicnts was Britain to the north of the Forth. For Ierne is said to be to the north of Britain, which could not be meant of Ireland. Slrabo, 1. S&4. Casanb. 1. 1. i I was gratified on finding the reeds of the laka of teoo as plenty and conspicuous in the nineteenth as they were to Ossian in the fifth ccntury C. 3 Calm-cr, a strong man. 4 Cromla is the highest mountain of the ridge of Lena. C. 5 The Galic name of Scandinavia in general.

8

FINGAL,

the ranks of their pride. l e t no vessel of the kingdom of Snow bound on the dark-rolling waves of Inistore. 1 Rise, ye dark winds of Erin rise! roar, whirl-wind 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 chase was sport to him, so much as the battle of shields!» «Calmar!» Connal slow replied, «1 never fled, young son of Matha! I was swift with my friends in light; but small is the fame of Connal! The 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 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 mc,» 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 supporters of my arm in danger? Were art thou, white-bosomed Cathba? W h e r e is that cloud in war, Duchomar? 2 Hast thou left me, O Fergus! 3 in the day of the storm? Fergus, first in our joy at the feast! son of Rossa! arm of death! comest thou like a roc from Malmor ? Like a hart from thy echoing hills ? Hail, thou son of Rossa! what shades the soul of war?» 1 The Orkney Islands. 2 Dubhcliomar, a black well-made 3 F c a r - g u t h , lit'- man of the ivard;

man. or a commander of an army.

AN EPIC POEM.

9

«Four stones,» 1 replied the chief, «rise on the grave of Q t h b a . 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; 2 when it moves on the plains of a u t u m n , bearing the death of thousands along. Morna! fairest of maids! calm is thy sleep in the cavc 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!» «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, 3 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 1 This passage alludes to the m a n n e r of burial among the ancient Scots. They opened a g r a v e six or eight feet d e e p ; t h e bottom w a s lined w i t h fine c l a y ; and on t h i s they laid the body of the deceased, a n d , if a w a r r i o r , h i s s w o r d , and the h e a d s of t w e l v e a r r o w s by his side. Above t h e y laid a n o t h e r s t r a t u m of clay, in w h i c h they placed the horn of a deer, the symbol of h u n t ing. T h e w h o l e w a s covered w i t h a line mold, and four s t o n e s placed on end to mark the e x t e n t of the g r a v e . T h e s e are the four stones alluded to here. % Lano has been c o n f o u n d e d w i t h Lego. L a n o a p p e a r s to h a v e been a lake of N o r w a y w h i c h s e n t forth p e s t i l e n t i a l vapours. Lego is in U l s t e r . 3 M u i r n e , or M o r n a , a woman

beloved by alt.

to

FINGAL,

breasts are two smooth rocks seen from Branno of streams. Thy arms, like two white pillars, in the halls of the great Fingal.» 1 «From whence,» the fair-haired maid replied, «from whence, Duchomar, most gloomy of men? Dark are thy brows and terrible! Red are thy rollings eyes! Does Swaran appear on the sea? What of the foe, Duchomar?» «From the hill I r e t u r n , O Morna, from the hill of the dark-brown hinds. Three have 1 slain with my bended yew. Three -with my long-bounding dogs of the chase. Lovely daughter of Cormac, I love thee as my soul! I have slain one stately deer for thee. High was his bratichy head; and fleet his feet of wind.» «Duchomar!» calm the maid replied, «1 love thee not, thou gloomy man! hard is thy heart of rock; dark is thy terrible brow. But Cathba, young son of Torman," thou art the love of Morna. Thou art a sun-beam, in the day of the gloomy storm. Sawest thou the son of Torman, lovely on the hill of his hinds? Here the daughter of Cormac waits the coming of Cathba!» «Long shall Morna wait,» Duchomar said, «long shall Morna wait for Cathba! Behold this sword unsheathed! Here wanders the blood of Cathba. Long shall Morna wait. He fell by the stream of Branno! On Croma I will raise his tomb, daughter of blue-shielded Cormac! Turn on Duchomar thine eyes; his arm is strong as a storm,» «Is the son of Torman fallen?» said the wildly-bursting voice of the maid. «Is he fallen on his echoing hills, the 1 „ P i l l a r s in the Hall of F i n g a l / ' though a beautiful s i m i l e , the era of Ossiait down to that of M a c p h e r s o n . C. 2 T o r m a n , thunder. anciunts.

is

bringing

T h i s is the t r u e o r i g i n of the J u p i t e r Taraniis of the

11

AN EPIC POEM.

youth with the breast of snow? The first in the chase of hinds? The foe of the strangers of ocean? Thou art d a r k 1 to me, Duchomar, cruel is thine arm to Morna! Give me that sword, my foe! I love the wandering blood of Cathba!» He gave the sword to her tears. She pierced his manly breast! He fell, like the bank of a mountain-stream, and stretching forth his hand, he spoke: «(Daughter of blueshielded Cormac! Thou hast slain mc in y o u t h ! The sword is cold in my breast: Morna, I feel it cold. Give me to Moina- the maid. Duchomar was the dream of her night! She will raise my tomb; the hunter shall raise my fame. But draw the sword from my breast. Morna, the steel is cold!» She came, in all her tears she came; she drew the sword from his breast. He pierced her white side! He spread her fair locks on the ground! Her bursting blood sounds from her side: her white arm is stained with red. Rolling in death she lay. The cave re-echoed to her sighs. «Peace,» said Cuthullin, «to the souls of the heroes! their deeds were great in fight. Let them ride around 5 me on clouds. Let them shew their features of war. My soul shall then be firm in danger; mine arm like the thunder of heaven! But be thou on a moon-beam, 0 Morna! near the window of my rest; when my thoughts are of peace; when the din of arms is past. Gather the strength of the 1 S h e alludes to his name, the dark 2 jMoina, soft in temper

and

3 It w a s the opinion t h e n ,

man.

person. as

indeed it is to this

day,

of some of the

Highlanders, that the soul of the deceased hovered round their l i v i n g f r i e n d s ; and sometimes a p p e a l e d to them w h e n they w e r e about to enter on any great undertaking.

12

FINGAL,

tribes! Move to the wars of Erin! Attend the car of my battles! Rejoice in the noise of my course! Place three spears by my side: follow the bounding of my steeds! That my soul may be strong in my friends, when battle darkens round the beams of my steel!» As rushes a stream of foam from the dark shady deep of Cromla; when the thunder is travelling above, and darkbrown night sits on half the hill. Through the breaches of the tempest look forth the dim faces of ghosts. So fierce, so vast, so terrible rushed on the sons of Erin. The chief, like a whale of ocean, whom all his billows pursue, poured valour forth as a stream, rolling his might along the shore. The sons of Lochlin heard the noise, as the sound of a winter-storm. Swaran struck his bossy shield: he called the son of Arno. «What m u r m u r rolls along the hill, like the gathered flies of the eve? The sons of Erin descend, or rustling winds roar in the distant wood! Such is the noise ofGormal, before the white lops of my waves arise. O son of Arno ascend the hill; view the dark face of the heath!« He went. He trembling, swift returned. His eyes rolled wildly round. His heart beat high against his side. His words were faultering, broken, slow. «Arise, son of ocean, arise, chief of the dark-brown shields! I see the dark, the mountain-stream of battle! The deep-moving strength of the sons of Erin! The car, the car of war comes on, like the flame of death! the rapid car of Cuthullin, the noble son of Semo! It bends behind like a wave near a rock; like the sun-streaked mist of the heath. Its sides are embossed with stones, and sparkle like the sea round the boat of night. Of polished yew is its beam; its seat of the smoothest bone. The sides are replenished with spears;

AN EPIC POEM.

i3

the bottom is the foot-stool of heroes! Before the right side of the car is seen the snorting horse! The highmaned, broad-breasted, proud, wide-leaping, strong steed of the hill. Loud and resounding is his hoof; the spreading of his mane above is like a stream of smoke on _a ridge of rocks. Bright are the sides of the steed! his name is Sulin-Sifadda!» «Before the left side of the car is seen the snorting horse! The thin-maned, high-headed, strong-hoofed, fleet, bounding son of the hill: his name is Dufronnal, among the stormy sons of the sword! A thousand thongs bind the car on high. Hard polished bits shine in a wreath of foam. Thin thongs, bright studded with gems, bend on the stately necks of the steeds. The steeds that like wreaths of mist fly over the streamy vales! The wildness of deer is in their course, the strength of eagles descending on their prey. Their noise is like the blast of winter, on the sides of the snow-headed Gormal. Within the car is seen the chief; the strong-armed son of the sword. The hero's name is Cuthullin, son of Semo, king of shells. His red chftck is like my polished yew. The look of his blue-rolling eye is wide beneath the dark arch of his brow. His hair flies from his head like a flame, as bending forward he wields the spear. Fly, king of occan, fly! He comes, like a strom, along the streamy vale!» «When did I fly?» replied the king. «When fled Swaran from the battle of spears? When did I shrink from danger, chicf of the little soul? I met the storm of Gormal, when the foam of my waves beat high. 1 met the storm of the clouds; shall Swaran fly from a hero? Were Fingal himself before me, my soul should not darken with fear. Arise to battle, my thousands! pour round me like the echoing

u

FJNGAL,

main. Gather round the bright steel of your king; strong as the rocks of my land; that meet the storm with joy, and stretch their dark pines to the wind!» Like autumn's dark storms, pouring from two echoing hills, towards each other approached the heroes. Like two deep streams from high rocks meeting, mixing, roaring on the plain; loud, rough and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Innis-fail. Chief mixes his strokes with chief, and man with man; steel, clanging, sounds on steel. Helmets arc clcft on high. Blood bursts and smokes around. Strings murmur on the polished yews. Darts rush along the sky. Spears fall like the circles of light, which gild the face of night. As the noise of the troubled ocean, when roll the waves on high. As the last peal of thunder in heaven, such is the din of war! Though Cormac's hundred bards were there to give the fight to song; feeble was the voice of a hundred bards to send the deaths to future times! For many were the deaths of heroes; wide poured the blood of the brave! Mourn, ye sons of song, mourn the death of the noble Sithallin. 1 Let the sighs of Fiona arise, on the lone plains of her lovely Ardan. They fell, like two hinds of the desert, by the hands of the mighty Swaran; when, in the midst of thousands, he roared; like the shrill spirit of a storm. He sits dim, on the clouds of the north, and enjoys the death of the mariner. Nor slept thy hand by thy side, chief of the isle of mist! 2 many were the deaths of thine a r m , Cuthullin, thou son of Semo! His sword was like the beam of heaven when it pierces the sons of the vale; when the people are blasted and fall, and all the hills are burning 1 Sithallin signifies a handsome

man; F i o n a , a fair maid;

and A r d a n , pride.

I Tlie I s l e of S k y ; n o t i m p r o p e r l y called the isle of mist,

a s its high liills

w h i c h catch t h e clouds from the w e s t e r n ocean, o c c a s i o n s almost continual rains.

15

AN EPIC POEM.

around. Dufronnal 1 snorted over the bodies of heroes. Sifadda 2 bathed his hoof in blood. The battle lay behind them, as groves overturned in the desert of Cromla, when the blast has past the heath, laden with the spirits of night! Weep on the rocks of roaring winds, O maid of lnisl o r e ! s Bend thy fair head over the waves, thou lovelier than the ghost of the hills, when it moves, in a sun-beam at noon, over the silence of Morven! He is fallen! thy youth is low! pale beneath the sword of Cuthullin! No more shall valour raise thy love to match the blood of kings. Trenar, graceful Trenar died, O maid of Inistore! His grey dogs are howling at home! they see his passing ghost. His bow is in the hall unstrung. No sound is in the hill of his hinds'. As roll a thousand waves to the rocks, so Swaran's host came on. As meets a rock a thousand waves, so Erin met Swaran of spears. Death raises all his voices around, and mixes with the sounds of shields. Each hero is a pillar of darkness; the sword a beam of fire in his hand. The field echoes from wing to wing, as a hundred hammers that rise, by turns, on the red son of the furnace. Who are these on Lena's heathy these so gloomy and dark? Who arc these like two clouds, and their swords like lightning 1 O n e of C u t h u l l i n ' s h o r s e s . t

K i t h - f j d d a , j. e. a long

3 The

maid

of

Orkney islands.

Inistore.

was the daughter

of Shetland.

Bubject to t h e k i n g of L o c h l i n . of the

of G o r l o ,

k i n g of I n i s t o r e ,

T r e n a r w a s b r o t h e r to t h e k i n g of I n i s c o n ,

one of the islands at home

Dubhstron-gheal. stride.

d e a t h of

s u p p o s e d to

or be

T h e O r k n e y s and Shetland w e r e at that time AVc f i n d t h a t t h e d o g s o f T r e n a r a r c

their m a s t e r ,

the v e r y

sensible

instant he is killed.

It

was

t h e opinion of t h e times, that the s o u l s of heroes w e n t immediately a f t e r d e a t h to the hills of t h e i r c o u n t r y , times of their life. of tile

deceased.

and the scenes

they frequented the m o s t

It w a s thought too that dogs and

horses saw

the

happy ghosts

16

F1NGAL,

above them? The little hills arc troubled around: the rocks tremble with all their moss. Who is it but Ocean's son and the car-borne chicf of Erin? Many are the anxious eyes of their friends, as they see them dim on the heath. But night conceals the chiefs in clouds, and ends the dreadful fight! It was on Cromla's shaggy side that Dorglas had placed the deer; 1 the early fortune of the chase, before the heroes left the hill. A hundred youths collect the heath; ten warriors wake the fire; three hundred choose the polish'd stones. The feast is smoking wide! Cuthullin, chief of Erin's war, resumed his mighty soul. He stood upon his beamy spear, and spoke to the son of songs, to Carril of other times, the grey-haired son of Kinfcna. - «Is this feast spread for me alone and the king of Lochlin on Erin's shore; far from the deer of his hills, and sounding halls of his feasts? Rise, Carril of other times; carry my words to Swaran. Tell him from the roaring of waters, that Cuthullin gives his feast. Here let him listen to the sound of my groves, amidst the clouds of night. For cold and bleak the 1 The ancient by t r a d i t i o n .

m a n n e r of p r e p a r i n g f e a s t s a f t e r h u n t i n g ,

is handed

down

A p i t lined w i t h s m o o t h s t o n e s w a s m a d e ; a n d n e a r it stood a

heap

of s m o o t h

were

properly heated with heath.

flat

s t o n e s o f t h e flint k i n d .

The stones,

as well as the pit,

T h e n t h e y l a i d s o m e v e n i s o n in t h e b o t t o m ,

a n d a s t r a t u m of t h e s t o n e s a b o v e i t ; a n d t h u s t h e y d i d a l t e r n a t e l y t i l l t h e w a s full. T h e w h o l e w a s c o v e r e d o v e r w i t h h e a t h t o c o n f i n e t h e s t e a m . this is

probable

I cannot

say;

s a y , w e r e u s e d in t h a t m a n n e r .

but

some

M —

pits are shewn,

which

T o p r o v e t h e b e a u t y of t h i s

pit

Whether

the

vulgar

remark.—

the shaggy sides o f C r o m l a — it is a l m o s t n e c e s s a r y to v i s i t Croinla, and v i e w it. T h o u s a n d s

visit the

s c e n e s of t h e R o m a n

they spend on their j o u r n e y of I r e l a n d ,

Bard,

w h e n h a l f of t h e m o n e y

would confer comforts upon the starving peasants

w h e r e t h e s c e n e s of F i n g a l ' s e x p l o i t s c o u l d

to Ihe c l a s s i c o r f e e l i n g m i n d . ? C e a n - f e a n a , i. e. ihe head

C. of ihe

people.

n o t be b u t

agreeable

AN EPIC POEM.

17

blustering winds rush over the foams of his seas. Here let him praise the trembling harp, and hear the songs of heroes'.» Old Carril went, with softest voice. He called the king of dark-brown shields! «Rise from the skins of thy chase, rise, Swaran, king of groves! Cuthullin gives the j6y of shells. Partake the feast of Erin's blue-eyed chief!» He answered like the sullen sound o Cromla before a storm. «Though all thy daughters, Inis-fail! should stretch their arms of snow; should raise the heavings of their breasts, and softly roll their eyes of love; yet, fixed as Lochlin's thousand rocks, here Swaran should remain; till morn, with the young beams of the east, shall light me to the death of Cuthullin. Pleasant to my ear is Lochlin's wind! It rushes over my seas! It speaks aloft in all my shrouds, and brings my green forests to my mind: The green forests of Gormal, which often echoed to my winds, when my spear was red in the chase of the boar. Let dark Cuthullin yield to me the ancient throne of Cormac; or Erin's torrents shall shew from their hills the red foam of the blood of his pride!» «Sad is the sound of Swaran's voice,» said Carril of other times! «Sad to himself alone,» said the blue-eyed son of Semo. «But, Carril, raise the voice on high; tell the deeds of other times. Send thou the night away in song; and give the joy of grief. For many heroes and maids of love, have moved on Inis-fail: And lovely are the songs of woe that are heard in Albion's rocks; when the noise of the chase is past, and the streams of Cona answer to the voice of Ossian.» 1 1 T h e Cona h e r e mentioned is that shlnall river that r u n s through ( j l e n e o , in A r g y l e s h i r e .

One of t h e hills w h i c h environ that romantic valley is still

railed S c o r n a f e n a , o r the hill of F i n g a l ' s people. OSSIAIT.

1.

2

18

FINGAL,

«In other days,» 1 Carril replies, «came the sons of Ocean to Erin! a thousand vessels bounded on waves to Ullin's lovely plains. The sons of Inis-fail arose, to meet the race of dark-brown shields. Cairbar, first of men was there, and Grudar, stately youth! Long had they strove for the spotted bull, that lowed on G o l b u n ' s e c h o i n g heath. Each claimed him as his own. Death was often at the point of their steel! Side by side the heroes fought; the strangers of Ocean fled. Whose name was fairer on the hill, than the name of Cairbar and Grudar! But ah! why ever lowed the bull, on Golbun's echoing heath. They saw him leaping like snow. The wrath of the chiefs returned'» «On Lubar's 3 grassy banks they fought; Grudar fell in his blood. Fierce Cairbar came to the vale, where Brasso•lis* fairest of his sisters, all alone, raised the song of grief. She sung of the actions of Grudar, the youth of her secret soul! She mourned him in the field of blood; but still she hoped for his return. Her white bosom is seen from her robe, as the moon from the clouds of night, when its edge heaves white on the view, from the darkness which covers its orb. Her voice was softer than the harp to raise the song of grief. Her soul was fixed on Grudar. The secret

1 T h i s episode is i n t r o d u c e d w i t h p r o p r i e t y . Calmar and Connal, two ol" the Irisch l i e i o e s , liad disputed w a r m l y before the battle about engaging t h e enemy. Carril e n d e a v o u r s to reconcile them w i t h the s t o r y of Cairbar and ( i r u d a r ; w h o , t h o u g h enemies b e f o r e , f o u g h t side by side in t h e w a r . T h e poet obtained h i s a i m , for w e find Calmar and Connal p e r f e c t l y reconciled in the third book. S Golb-bliean, as well as C r o m l e a c h , signifies a crooked 3 L u b a r , a r i v e r in U l s t e r . Labhar, l o u d , noisy. 4 Krassolis signifies a woman

tvilh a white

breast.

hil/.

19

AN EPIC POEM.

look of her eye was his. «When shalt thou come in thine arms, thou mighty in the w a r ? » «Take, Brassolis,» Cairbar came and said, «take, Brassolis, this shield of blood. Fix it on high within my hall, the armour of my foe! Her soft heart beat against her side. Distracted, pale, she flew. She found her youth in all his blood; she died on Cromla's heath. Here rests their dust, Cuthullin! these lonely yews sprung from their tombs, and shade them from the storm. Fair was Brassolis on the plain! Stately was Grudar on the hill! The bard shall preserve their names, and send them down to future times!» «Pleasant is thy voice, O Carril,» said the blue-eyed chief of Erin. «Pleasant are the words of other times! they arc like the calm shower of spring; when the sun looks on the field, and the light cloud flies over the hills. 0 strike the harp in praise of my love, the lonely sun-beam of Dunscaith! Strike the harp in the praise of Bragela; she that I left in the Isle of Mist, 1 the spouse of Semo's son! Dost thou raise thy fair face from the rock to find the sails of Cuthullin? The sea is rolling distant far; its white foam deceives thee for my sails. Retire for it is night, my love; the dark winds sing in thy hair. Retire to the halls of my feast; think of the times that are past. I will not return till the storm of war is ceased. O Connal! speak of war and arms, and send her from my mind. Lovely with her flowing hair is the white-bosomed daughter of Sorglan.» Connal, slow to speak, replied: «Guard again the race of Ocean. Send thy troop of night abroad, and watch the strength of Swaran. Cuthullin! 1 am for peace till the race ofSelma come; till Fingal come, the first of men, and 1 T h e I s l e of S k y , of which Cuthullin'» father w a s Kin» o r Chiel

I

20

FINGAL.

beam, like the sun, on our fields!» The hero struck the shield of alarms, the warriors of the night moved on! The rest lay in the heath of the deer, and slept beneath the dusky wind. The ghosts 1 of the lately dead were near, and swam on the gloomy clouds: And far distant in the dark silencc of Lena, 2 the feeble voices of death were faintly heard. 1 It

w a s long

the opinion

of the ancient S c o t s , that a ghost w a s

shrieking near the place w h e r e a death w a s to h a p p e n soon after. given, to this d a y , among the vulgar, poetical.

The

thrice a place through

which

ghost

comes

mounted

destined for the the

of this on

person to die;

funeral is to p a s s ,

extraordinary matter

a meteor, and

shrieking

and

surrounds

are

at

very

twice

then goes along the at i n t e r v a l s ;

heard

The accounts

last,

or road the

meteor and ghost disappear above the burial place. 2 T h e H e a t h o f L e n a m a y f a i r l y b e s a i d t o h a v e b e e n t h e s c e n e o f all t h e p r i n c i p a l b a t t l e s o f F i n g a l , w h i c h h e t h i n k s w o r t h y of being p r e s e r v e d . It is a t h o u sand y e a r s later than O s s i a n , b u t the author seems to have observed h i s m a n n e r , and adopted some of h i s e x p r e s s i o n s . The s t o r y of it is t h i s : — F i v e bard0 p a s s i n g the night in t h e house of a c h i e f , w h o w a s a poet him— self, w e n t s e v e r a l l y to make t h e i r o b s e r v a t i o n s o n , and returned with an extempore d e s c r i p t i o n o f , night. T h e n i g h t h a p p e n e d to be one in October, as a p p e a r s f r o m the poem : and in the n o r t h of S c o t l a n d , it h a s all that v a riety which t h e b a r d s ascribe to i t , in t h e i r d e s c r i p t i o n s . FIRST

BAKD.

NIGHT is dull and d a r k . T h e clouds r e s t on the hills. No s t a r with g r e e n trembling b e a m ) no moon l o o k s f r o m the s k y . I h e a r the blast in the w o o d , ' b u t 1 hear it d i s t a n t far. T h e s t r e a m of t h e v a l l e y m u r m u r s ; but i t s murmur is sullen and sad. F r o m the t r e e at the grave of the dead the l o n g iiowling o w l is heard. 1 see a dim f o n n o n t h e p l a i n ! I t ia a g h o s t ! it fades, it flies. Some funeral shall p a s s t h i s w a y : the m e t e o r m a r k s the path. T h e distant dog is h o w l i n g f r o m the h u t of the hill. T h e stag lies on t h e m o u n t a i n m o s s : the hind is at h i s side. S h e h e a r s t h e w i n d in h i s b r a n c h y h o r n s . S h e s t a r t s , but lies again. T h e rofe is in the cleft of the r o c k ; t h e h e a t h - c o c k ' s head i s b e n e a t h h i s wing. N o b e a s t , no bird is a b r o a d , b u t the o w l , and the h o w l i n g fox. She. on a leafless t r e e ; he in a cloud on the hill. D a r k , p a n t i n g , t r e m b l i n g , s a d , t h e t r a v e l l e r h a s lost h i s w a y . T h r o u g h s h r u b s , through t h o r n s , he g o e s , along t h e g u r g l i n g rill. H e f e a r s t h e rock and t h e fen. He f e a r s the ghost of night. T h e old tree groans to the b l a s t : the falling branch r e s o u n d s . T h e w i n d drives the w i t h e r e d b u r s , clung t o g e t h e r , along t h e grass. I t is the light tread of a g h o s t ! H e trembles amidst t h e night.

254

CROMA,

forth their burning souls, and the string answered to their voice. The joy of Croma was great : for peacc returned to the land. The night came on with silence; the morning returned with joy. No foe came in darkness, with his D a r k , d u s k y , howling, is night, cloudy, windy, and full of ghosts! The dead are abroad! my friends, receive me from the night. SECOND

BARD.

The wind is up, the shower descends. The spirit of the mountain shrieks. Woods fall from high. W i n d o w s flap. The growing river roars. The traveller attempts the ford. H a r k ! that shriek! he dies! The storm drives the horse from the hill, the goat, the lowing cow. They tremble as drives the shower, beside the mouldering bank. The hunter starts from sleep, in his lonely h u t ; he wakes the fire decayed. His w e t dogs smoke around him. He fills t h e chinks with heath. Loud roar two mountain streams which meet beside his booth. Sad on the side of a hill the wandering shepherd sits. The tree resounds above him. The stream roars down the rock. He waits for the rising moon to guide him to h i s home. Ghosts ride on the storm to-night. Sweet is their voice between the squalls of wind. Their songs are of other worlds. The rain is past. T h e dry wind blows. Streams roar, and windows flap. Cold drops fall from the roof. I see the starry sky. But the shower gathers again. The west is gloomy and dark. Night is stormy and dismal -, receive ine, iny f r i e n d s , from night. THIRD

BAUD.

The wind still sounds between the hills; and whistles through the grass of the rock. T h e firs fall from their place. The turfy hut is torn. The clouds, divided, fly over the s k y , and show the burning stars. The meteor, token of deatli ! flies sparkling through the gloom. It rests on the hill. 1 see the withered f e r n , the dark-browed rock, the fallen oak. W h o is that in his his shrowd beneath the tree, by the stream? The waves dark-tumble on the lake, and lash its rocky sides. The boat is brimful in the cove; the oars on the rocking tide. A maid sits sad beside the rock, and eyes the rolling stream. Her lover promised to come. She saw his boat, w h e n yet it was light, on the lake. Is this his broken boat on the shore? Are these his groans on the wind?

255

A POEM.

glittering spear. The joy of Croma was great; for the gloomy Rothmar had fallen! I raised my voice for Fovar-gormo, when they laid the chief in earth. The aged Crothar was there, but his Hark!

the

hail

rattles around.

the h i l l s a r e w h i t e .

The

flaky

s n o w descends.

T h e tops of

T h e s t o r m y w i n d s abate. Various i s t h e n i g h t a n d c o l d ;

r e c e i v e m e , m y f r i e n d s , from night. FOURTH

N i g h t i s calm and f a i r ; b l u e , the c l o u d s , mountain.

are

gone.

They

Trees glister,

BAUD.

s t a r r y , settled i s night.

s i n k behind the hill.

The winds,

with

T h e moon i s up on t h e

streams s h i n e on the r o c k . B r i g h t r o l l s

the settled

l a k e ; bright the s t r e a m o f t h e v a l e . I see t h e t r e e s o v e r t u r n e d ; t h e

s h o c k s o f corn on the plain. T h e w a k e -

f u l h i n d r e b u i l d s t h e s h o c k s , and w h i s t l e s on the distant C a l m , settled, fair is night!

Who

comes

from

T h c t for in w i t h the robe o f s n o w ; w h i t e a r m s , ihe d a u g h t e r o f t h e c h i e f o f t h e p e o p l e : view thee,

0 maid!

thou

that

the

field, place of the d e a d ?

and d a r k - b r o w n

she that lately fell!

hair!

Come,

hast been the delight of h e r o e s !

It i s let u s

T h e blast

drives t h e p h a n t o m a w a y ; w h i t e , w i t h o u t f o r m , i t a s c e n d s t h e h i l l . The breezes drive the blue m i s t , s l o w l y , o v e r the narrow vale. I t on t h e h i l l ,

and j o i n s

its

head

s t a r r y , b r i g h t w i t h the moon.

to

heaven.

Receive

me

FIFTH

BARD.

Night is settled,

not,

my

friends,

calm,

rises blue,

for l o v e l y i s

the night.

N i g h t is calin,

but d r e a r y .

T h e moon is

in a cloud in the w e s t .

m o v e s that pale beam a l o n g the shaded hill.

T h e distant w a v e i s h e a r d .

t o r r e n t murmurs

is heard

on

the

rock.

than half the night is past. the

settled

fire.

bounding dogs. moves

the

The

The

cloud.

He

sees

f r o m the b o o t h .

The More

T h e h o u s e - w i f e , groping in t h e g l o o m , r e k i n d l e s

hunter

thinks

He a s c e n d s the h i l l ,

night i s to pass.

cock

Slow

the

that

approaches,

day

and

and w h i s t l e s on h i s w a y .

starry

plough

H e nods b y t h e m o s s y

o f the n o r t h .

calls

his

A blast reM u c h o f the

rock.

H a r k ! t h e w h i r l w i n d i s in the w o o d !

A low

murmur in the v a l e ! It is

the m i g h t y army o f t h e dead returning from t h e air. The Long

are

moon the

rests

behind t h e hill.

shadows

of

the

trees.

T h e beam i s s t i l l on that l o f t y r o c k . Now

it

i s dark o v e r all.

d r e a r y , s i l e n t , and d a r k ; r e c e i v e m e , m y friends, from night.

N i g h t is

CROMA,

25f>

sigh was not heard. He searched for the wound of lis s o n , and found it in his breast. Joy rose in the face of the aged. He came and spoke to Ossian. «King of spears!» he said, «my son has not fallen without his fame. The young warrior did not fly; but met death, as he went forward in his strength. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is heard! The feeble will not behold them in the hall; or smile at their trembling hands. Their memory shall be honoured in song; the young tear of the virgin will fall. But the aged wither a w a y , by degrees; the fame of their youth, while yet they live, is all forgot. They fall in secret. The sigh of their son is not heard. J o y is around their tomb; the stone of their fame is placed without a tear. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is around them!« THE

L e t clouds r e s t on

the

hills:

winds of the woods a r i s e ,

the

CHIEF.

spirits

fly,

and

travellers

sounding storins d e s c e n d .

fear.

Let

the

B o a r s t r e a m s and

w i n d o w s flap, and g r e e n - w i n g e d m e t e o r s fly! r i s e t h e pale moon from behind h e r h i l l s , o r i n c l o s e h e r h e a d i n c l o u d s ! night i s a l i k e to i n e , b l u e , s t o r m y , o r gloomy the s k y . hill.

N i g h t flies before t h e b e a m ,

w h e n i t i s poured on t h e

T h e young day r e t u r n s from h i s clouds, but w e return no more. Where

are our c h i e f s o f old ?

fields o f t h e i r b a t t l e s a r e silent. lofty

house

W h e r e our kings o f m i g h t y name ?

The

S c a r c e t h e i r m o s s y tombs remain. W e shall

also be forgot.

This

r u i n s in g r a s s .

T h e y s h a l l a s k o f the a g e d ,

s h a l l fall.

Our s o n s s h a l l not behold t h e „ W h e r e stood t h e w a l l s o f our

fathers ? " R a i s e t h e s o n g , and s t r i k e t h e h a r p ; send round the s h e l l s o f joy. pend

a

hundred

tapers

on

high.

Y o u t h s and maids begin t h e dance.

SusLet

some g r e y bard be n e a r me to tell the deeds o f o t h e r t i m e s ; o f k i n g s renowned in

our

til

morning

dogs,

land, the

o f chiefs shall

youths

a w a k e the deer.

we

behold

appear

in

of

chase.

the

no more.

our halls. We

T h u s l e t t h e night p a s s u n -

T h e n let t h e b o w be at h a n d , shall

ascend t h e liill with d a y ;

the and

CALTHON AND COLMAL, A

(tan».

I.

POEM.

17

ARGUMENT. THIS p i e c e , as many more of Ossian's compositions, is addressed to one of the first Christian missionaries. The story of the poem is handed down, by tradition, t h u s : In the country of the Britons between the w a l l s , two chiefs lived in the days of Fingal, Dunthalmo, lord o f T e u t h a , supposed to be the T w e e d ; and Rathmor, w h o dwelt at Clutha, well known to be the river Clyde. Rathmor w a s not more renowned for his generosity and hospitality, than Dunthalmo w a s infamous for h i s cruelty and ambition. Dunthalmo, through e n v y , or on account of some private f e u d s , which subsisted between the families, murdered Cathinore at a feast; but being afterwards touched with remorse, he educated the two s o n s of Rathmor, Calthon and Colinar, in his o w n house. They growing up to man's estate, dropped some hints that they intended to revenge the death of their father, upon which Dunthalmo shut them up in t w o caves on the banks of Teutha, intending to take them off privately. Colmal, the daughter of D u n t h a l m o , w h o w a s s e c r e t l y - i n love w i t h Calthon, helped him to make his escape from p r i s o n , and fled with him to Fingal, disguised in the habit of a young warrior, and implored his aid against Dunthalmo. Fingal sent Ossian w i t h three hundred men to Colinar's relief. Dunthalmo having previously murdered Colinar, came to a battle with Ossian; but he w a s killed by that hero, and his army totally defeated. Calthon married Colmal, his deliverer; and Ossian returned to Morven.

CALTHON AND COLMAIi, A

P O E M .

PLEASANT is the voice of thy song, thou lonely dweller of the rock! It comes on the sound of the stream, along the narrow vale. My soul awakes, O stranger! in the midst of my hall. I stretch my hand, to the spear, as in the days of other years. I stretch my hand, but it is feeble; and the sigh of my bosom grows. Wilt thou not listen, son of the rock! to the song of Ossian? My soul is full of other times; the joy of my youth returns. Thus the sun appears in the west, after the steps of his brightness have moved behind a storm: the green hills lift their dewy heads: the blue stream rejoices in the vale. The aged hero comes forth on his staff; his grey hair glitters in the beam. Dost thou not behold, son of the rock! a shield in Ossian's hall? It is marked with the strokes of battle; and the brightness of its bosses has failed. That shield the great Ducthalmo bore, the chief of streamy Teutha. Dunthalmo bore it in battle, before he fell by Ossian's spear. Listen, son of the rock! to the tale of other years! Rathmor was a chief of Clutha. The feeble dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rathmor were never shut; his feast

CALTHON AND COLMAL, was always spread. The sons of the stranger came. They blessed the generous chief of Clutha. Bards raised the song, and touched the harp: joy brightened on the face of the sad! Dunthalmo came, in his pride, and rushed into the combat of Rathmor. The chief of Clutha overcame: the rage of Dunthalmo rose. He came by night, with his warriors; the mighty Rathmor fell. He fell in his halls, where his feast was often spread for strangers. Colmal and Calthon were young, the sons of car-borne Rathmor. They came in the joy of youth, into their father's hall. They behold him in his blood; their bursting tears descend. The soul of Dunthalmo melted, when he saw the children of youth. He brought them to Alteutha's 1 walls, they grew in the house of their foe. They bent the bow in his presence; and came forth to his wars. They saw the fallen walls of their fathers; they saw the green thorn in the hall. Their tears rushed forth in secret. At times their faces were sad. Dunthalmo beheld their grief: his darkening soul designed their death. He closed them in two caves, on the echoing banks of Teutha. The sun did not come there with his beams; nor the moon of heaven by night. The sons of Rathmor remained in darkness, and foresaw their death. The daughter of Dunthalmo wept in silence, the fairhaired , blue-eyed Colmal. 2 Her eye had rolled in secret on Calthon; his loveliness swelled in her soul. She trembled 1 Al-tlieutha, Jlunthalmo's seat.

or r a t h e r B a l t h e u t h a ,

the town

of

Tweed,

the name of

I t is observable t h a t all the names in t h i s poem are d e r i v e d

f r o m t h e Galic l a n g u a g e ;

w h i c h is a proof that it w a s

oncc the u n i v e r s a l

language of the w h o l e island. 2 C a o l - i n h a l , a u-oman distinguishing

tcilh

small

ey:'-brows;

part of beauty in Ossian's t i m e :

them to the fine w o m e n of his poems.

small e y e - b r o w s w e r e and he seldom fails to

a

give

A POEM.

261

for her warrior; but what could Colmal do? Her arm could not lift the spear; nor was the sword formed for her side. Her white breast never rose beneath a mail. Neither was her eye the terror of heroes. W h a t canst thou do, O Colmal! for the falling chief? Iler steps are unequal; her hair is loose: her eyes looks wildly through h e r tears. She came, by night, to the hall. 1 She armed h e r lovely form in steel; the steel of a young warrior, who fell in the first of his battles. She came to the cave of Calthon, and loosed the throng from his hands. «Arise, son of R a t h m o r , » she said, «arise, the night is dark! Let us fly to the king of Selma," chief of fallen Clutha! I am the son of Lamgal, who dwelt in thy father's hall. I heard of thy dark dwelling in the cave, and my soul arose. Arise, son of Rathmor, arise, the night is dark!» «Blest voice!» replied the chief, «comest thou from the clouds to Calthon? The ghost of his fathers have often descended in his dreams, since the sun has retired from his eyes, and darkness has dwelt around him. Or art thou the son of Lamgal, the chief I often saw in Clutha? But shall I fly to Fingal, and Colmar my brother low? Will I fly to Morven, and the hero closed in night? No; give me that spear, son of Lamgal, Calthon will defend his brother!» «A thousand warriors,» replied the maid, stretch their spears round car-borne Colmar. What Can Callhon do 1 T h a t is, the liall w h e r e the arms taken from e n e m i e s w e r e hung u p as t r o p h i e s . Ossian is v e r y careful to make his stories p r o b a b l e ; for he makes Colmal p u t on the arms of a y o u t h killed in his first b a t t l e , a s more proper for a young w o m a n , w h o c a n n o t be s u p p o s e d s t r o n g enough! to carry the armour of a f u l l - g r o w n warrior.

i l'ingal.

262

CALTHON AND COLMAL,

against a host so great? Let us fly to the king of Morven, he will come with war. His arm is strctched forth to the unhappy; the lightning of his sword is round the weak. Arise, thou son of Rathmor! the shadows will fly away. Arise, or thy steps may be seen, and thou must fall in youth!» The sighing hero rose; his tears descend for car-borne Colmar. He came with the maid to Selma's hall; but he knew not that it was Colmal. The helmet covered her lovely face. Her bosom heaved beneath the steel. Fingal returned from the chase, and found the lovely strangers. They were like two beams of light, in the midst of the hall of shells. The king heard the talc of grief; and turned his eyes around. A thousand heroes half-rose before him; claiming the war of Teutha. I came with my spear from the hill; the joy of battle rose in my breast; for the king spoke to Ossian in the midst of a thousand chiefs. «Son of my strength,» began the king, «take thou the spear of Fingal. Go to Teutha's rushing stream, and save the car-borne Colmar. Let thy fame return before thee like a pleasant gale; that my soul may rejoice over my son, who renews the renown of our fathers. Ossian be thou a storm in war; but mild when the foe is low! It was thus my fame arose, 0 my son! be thou like Selma's chief. W h e n the haughty come to my halls, my eyes behold them not. But my arm is stretched forth to the unhappy. My sword defends the weak.» I rejoiced in the words of the king. I took my rattling arms. Diaran 1 rose at my side, and Dargo 2 king of spears. 1 D i a r a n , f a t h e r of that C o n n a l w h o w a s u n f o r t u n a t e l y killed by C r i m o r a , his mistress. 2 U c r ^ o , t h e s o n o f C o l l a t l i , i s c a l i b r a t e d in o t h e r p o e m s b y O s s i a n . in snid to h a v e b e e n k i l l e d b y a b o a r at a h u n t i n g p a r t y .

T h e lamentation

He of

A POEM.

263

Three hundred youths followed our steps; the lovely strangers were at my side. Dunthalmo heard the sound of our approach. He gathered the strength of Theutha. He stood on a hill with his host. They were like rocks broken with thunder, when their bent trees are singed and bare, and the streams of their chinks have failed. The stream of Teutha rolled, in its pride, before the gloomy foe. I sent a bard to Dunthalmo, to offer the combat on the plain; but he smiled in the darkness of his pride. His unsettled host moved on the hill; like the mountain-cloud, when the blast has entered its womb, and scatters the curling gloom on every side.

h i s m i s t r e s s , or w i f e , M i n g a l a , over h i s body is e x t a n t ; but w h e t h e r it is of Ossian's composition, I cannot determine. I t is generally ascribed to him, and has much of h i s m a n n e r ; but some traditions m e n t i o n it a s an imitation by some later bard. A s it h a s some poetical m e r i t , I h a v e subjoined it. THE s p o u s e of Dargo comes in t e a r s : for Dargo w a s no m o r e ! The heroes sigh o v e r L a r t h o ' a c h i e f ; and w h a t shall sad Mingala d o ? T h e dark soul vanished l i k e morning m i s t , before the king of s p e a r s ; but the generous glowed in h i s p r e s e n c e l i k e t h e m o r n i n g s t a r . W h o w a s the f a i r e s t and most l o v e l y ? W h o but Collath's s t a t e l y W h o sat in the midst of the w i s e , but Dargo of t h e m i g h t y d e e d s ?

son?

T h y hand touched the trembling h a r p ! t h y voice w a s s o f t as s u m m e r w i n d s . Ah m e ! w h a t shall the h e r o s s a y ? f o r Dargo fell before a boar. Pale is the lovely c h e e k ; t h e look of w h i c h w a s firm in d a n g e r ! W h y h a s t thou failed on our h i l l s ? thou fairer t h a n t h e beams of the sun. T h e daughter of Adonfin w a s lovely in t h e eyes of the v a l i a n t ; s h e w a s lovely in their e y e s , but she chose to be the s p o u s e of Dargo. B u t thou art alone M i n g a l a ! the night is coining w i t h its c l o u d s ; w h e r e is t h e bed of thy r e p o s e ? W h e r e but in t h e toinb of D a r g o ? W h y d o s t thou lift the s t o n e , 0 b a r d ! w h y d o s t thou s h u t t h e n a r r o w h o u s e ? Mingala's eyes are h e a v y , bard! she m u s t sleep w i t h D a r g o . L a s t n i g h t I heard t h e song of joy in L a r t h o ' s l o f t y hall. d w e l l s around my bed. Mingala r e s t s w i t h Dargo.

But

silence

m

CALTHON AND COLMAL,

They brought Colmar to Teutha's bank, bound with a thousand thongs. The chief is sad, but stately. His eye is on his friends; for we stood, in our arms, whilst Teutha's waters rolled between. Dunthalmo came with his spear, and pierced the hero's side: he rolled on the bank in his blood. W e heard his broken sighs. Calthon rushed into the stream: I bounded forward on my spear. Teutha's race fell before us. Night came rolling down. Dunthalmo rested on a rock, amidst an aged wood. The rage of his bosom burned against the car-borne Calthon. But Calthon stood in his grief; he mourned the fallen Colmar; Colmar slain in youth, before his fame arose! I bade the song of woe to rise, to sooth the mournful chief; but he stood beneath a tree, and often threw his spear on earth. The humid eye of Colmal rolled near in a secret tear: she foresaw the fall of Dunthalmo, or of Clutha's warlike chief. Now half the night had passed away. Silence and darkness were on the field. Sleep rested on the eyes of the heroes: Calthon's settling soul was still. His eyes were half-closed, but the murmur of Teutha had not yet failed in his ear. Pale, and showing his wounds, the ghost of Colmar came: he bent his head over the hero, and raised his feeble voice! «Sleeps the son of Rathmor in his night, and his brother low? Did we not rise in the chase together? Pursued we not the dark-brown hinds? Colmar was not forgot till he fell: till death had blasted his youth. I lie pale beneath the rock of Lona. 0 let Calthon rise! the morning comes with its beams; Dunthalmo will dishonour the fallen.» He passed away in his blast. The rising Calthon saw the steps of his departure. He rushed in the sound of his steel. Unhappy Colmal rose. She followed her hero through

A POEM.

265

night, and dragged her spear behind. But when Calthon came to Lona's rock, he found his fallen brother. The rage of his bosom rose; he rushed among the foe. The groans of death ascend. They closc around the chief. He is bound in the midst, and brought to gloomy Dunthalmo The shout of joy arose; and the hills of night .replied. I started at the sound: and took my father's spear. Diaran rose at my side; and the youthful strength of Dargo. W e missed the chief of Clutha, and our souls were sad. I dreaded the departure of my fame. The pride of my valour rose! «Sons of Morven!» I said, «it is not thus our fathers fought. They rested not on the field of strangers, when the foe was not fallen before them. Their strength was like the eagles of heaven; their renown is in the song. But our people fall by degrees. Our fame begins to depart. What shall the king of Morven say, if Ossian conquers not at Teutha? Rise in your steel, ye warriors', follow the sound of Ossian's course. He will not return, but renowned, to the echoing walls of Selma.» Morning rose on the blue waters of Teutha. Colmal stood before me in tears. She told of the chief of Clutha: thrice the spear fell from her hand. My wrath turned against the stranger; for my soul trembled for Calthon. «Son of the feeble hand!» I said, «do Teutha's warriors fight with tears? The battle is not won with grief; nor dwells the sigh in the soul of war. Go to the deer of Carmun, to the lowing herds of Teutha. But leave these arms thou son of l'car! A warrior may lift them in fight.« I tore the mail from her shoulders. Her snowy breast appeared. She bent her blushing face to the ground. I looked in silence to the chiefs. The spear fell from my hand; the sigh of my bosom rose! But when I heard the

266

CALTHON AND COLMAL.

name of the maid, my crowding tears rushed down. I blessed the lovely beam of y o u t h , and bade the battle move! Why, son of the rock, should Ossian tell how Teutha's warriors died? They are now forgot in their land; their tombs are not found on the heath. Years came on with their storms. The green mounds are mouldered away. Scarce is the grave of Dunthalmo seen, or the place where he fell by the spear of Ossian. Some grey warrior, half blind with age, sitting by night at the flaming oak of the hall, tells now my deeds to his sons, and the fall of the dark Dunthalmo. The faces of youth bend sidelong towards his voice. Surprize and joy burn in their eyes'. I found Calthon bound to an oak; my sword cut the thongs from his hands. I gave him the white-bosomed Colmal. They dwelt in the halls of Teutha.

THE

W A R OF CAROS, A POEM.

ARGUMENT. CAAOS is probably t h e noted u s u r p e r C a r a u s i u s , by birth a M e n a p i u n , w h o a s s u m e d the p u r p l e in t h e y e a r 284: a n d , s e i z i n g on B r i t a i n , d e f e a t e d t h e E m p e r o r Maximian H e r c u l i u s in s e v e r a l naval e n g a g e m e n t s , w h i c h gives p r o p r i e t y to h i s being called in t h i s poem the king of Ships. He repaired A g r i c o l a ' s w a l l , in order to o b s t r u c t the i n c u r s i o n s of the C a l e d o n i a n s ; and w h e n h e w a s employed in that w o r k , it a p p e a r s h e w a s attacked by a p a r t y tinder t h e command of O s c a r , the s o n of Os-sian. T h i s battle is t h e f o u n d a tion of the p r e s e n t p o e m , w h i c h is addressed to M a l v i n a , t h e d a u g h t e r of Toscar.

THE

WAR OF CAROS, A

POEM.

BRING, daughter of Toscar! bring the harp! the light of the song rises in Ossian's soul! It is like the field, when darkness covers the hills around, and the shadow grows slowly on the plain of the sun. I behold my son, O Malvina! near the mossy rock of Crona. 1 But it is the mist of the desert, tinged with the beam of the west! Lovely is the mist, that assumes the form of Oscar! turn from it, ye winds, when ye roar on the side of Ardven! Who comes towards my son, with the murmur of a song? His staff is in his hand, his grey hair loose on the wind. Surly joy lightens his facc. He often looks back to Caros, It is Ryno 2 of songs, he that went to view the foe. «What does Caros king of ships?» said the son of the now mournful Ossian, «spreads he the wings 3 of his 1 C r o n a is t h e name of a small stream w h i c h r u n s into t h e Carron. 2 Ryno is often mentioned in the a n c i e n t p o e t r y . H e seems to h a v e been a hard of t h e first rank , in t h e d a y s of F i n « a l . 3 T h e Roman eagle

27(1

THE WAR OF CAROS,

pride, bard of the times of old!» «He spreads them, Oscar,» replied the bard, «but it is behind his gathered heap. 1 He looks over his stones with fear. He beholds thee terrible, as the ghost of night, that rolls the wave to his ships!» «Go, thou first of my bards!» says Oscar, «take the spear of Fingal. Fix a flame on its point. Shake it to the winds of heaven. Bid him, in .songs, to advance, and leave the rolling of his wave. Tell to Caros that I long for battle; that my bow is weary of the chase of Cona. Tell him the mighty are not here; and that my arm is young.» He went with the murmur of songs. Oscar reared his voice on high. It reached his heroes on Ardven, like the noise of a cave, when the sea of Togorma rolls before it, and its trees meet the roaring winds. They gather round my son like the streams of the hill; w h e n , after rain, they roll in the pride of their course. Ryno came to the mighty Caros. He struck his flamming spear. Come to the battle of Oscar, 0 thou that sittest on the rolling of waves! Fingal is distant far; he hears the songs of bards in Morvcn: the wind of his hall is in his hair. His terrible spear is at his side; his shield that is like the darkened moon! Come to the battle of Oscar; the hero is alone! He came not over the streamy Carun. 2 The bard returned with his song. Grey night grows dim on Crona. The feast of shells is spread. A hundred oaks burn to the wind; faint light gleams over the heath. The ghosts of Ardven pass through the beam", and show their dim and 1 Agricola's w a l l , w h i c h C a r a u s i u s r e p a i r e d . 2 Tlie river Cflrron.

A POEM.

271

distand forms. Comala 1 is half unseen on her meteor; Hidallan is sullen and dim , like the darkened moon behind the mist of night. «Why art thou sad?» said R y n o ; for he alone beheld the chief. «Why art thou sad, Hiddallan! hast thou not received thy fame? The songs of Ossian have been heard: thy ghost has brightened in -wind, when thou didst bend from thy cloud, to hear the song of Morven's bard!» «And do thine eyes, said Oscar, «behold the chief, like the dim meteor of night? Say, llyno, say, how fell Hidallan, the renowned in the days of my fathers? His name remains on the rocks of Cona. 1 have often seen the streams of his hills!» Fingal, replied the bard, drove Hidallan from his wars. The king's soul was sad for Comala, and his eyes could not behold the chief. Lonely, sad along the heath, he slowly moved, with silent steps. His arms hang disordered on his side. His hair loose from his brow. The tear is in his down-cast eyes; a sigh half-silent in his breast! Three days he strayed unseen, alone, before he came to t u m o r ' s halls: the mossy halls of his fathers, at the stream of Balva. 2 There Lamor sat alone beneath a tree; for he had sent his people with Hidallan to war. The stream ran at his feet, his grey head rested on his staff. Sightless are his aged eyes. He hums the song of other times. 1 This is llie s c c n e of Comala's death , w h i c h is t h e s u b j e c t of the d r a matic poem. T h e poet m e n t i o n s h e r in t h i s p l a c e , in order to introduce t h e s e q u e l of Hidallan's s t o r y , w h o , on account of h e r death, had been e x p e l led from t h e w a r s of F i n g a l . 2 T h i s is p e r h a p s t h a t small s t r e a m , still retaining t h e natne of Balva, w h i c h r u n s t h r o u g h the romantic valley of Glentivar in S t i r l i n g s h i r e . B a l v a signifies a silent stream-, and G l e n t i v a r the sequestered vale.

TIIE WAR OF CAROS, The noise of Hidallan's feet came to his ear: he knew the tread of his son. «Is the son of Lamor returned; or is it the sound of his ghost? Hast thou fallen on the banks of Carun, son of the aged Lamor? O r , if I hear the sound of Hidallan's feet, where are the migthy in war? where are my people, Hidallan! that were wont to return with their echoing shields? Have they fallen on the banks of Carun?» «No:» replied the sighing y o u t h , «the people of Lamor live. They are renowned in -war, my father! but Hidallan is renowned no more. I must sit alone on the banks of Balva, when the roar of the battle grows.» «But thy fathers never sat alone,» replied the rising pride of Lamor. «They never sat alone on the banks of Balva, when the roar of battle rose. Dost thou not behold that tomb? My eves discern it not; there rests the noble Garmallon, who never fled from war! Come, thou renowned in battle, he says, come to thy father's tomb. How am I renowned, Garmallon? my son has fled from war!» «King of the streamy Balva!» said Hidallan with a sigh, «why dost thou torment my soul? Lamor, I never fled. Fingal was sad for Comala; he denied his wars to Hidallan. Go to the grey streams of thy land, he said; moulder like a leafless oak, which the winds have bent over Balva, never more to grow!»