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TEMORA* 
 
Xtmox&x 
 
 AN 
 
 IHNKB ®®WM (DIP (BSSIIAN, 
 
 IN EIGHT CANTOS, 
 
 n 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. 
 
 By THOMAS TRAVERS BURKE, Esq. 
 
 ROYAL SCOTS' GREYS. 
 
 11 In years when all Temora's kings have fail'd, 
 " Their strains shall live — their pleasant voice be hail'd !" 
 
 Temora, Canto I. 
 
 jpertH : 
 
 PRINTED BY R. MORISON, FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 AND SOLD BY D. MORISON, JUNR. & CO. 
 
 AND THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM* 
 
 1818. 
 

 0^ 
 
 ^ 
 
to 
 
 HIS EXCELLENCY, 
 
 CHARLES CHETWIND TALBOT CHETWIND* 
 
 EARL TALBOT, VISCOUNT INGESTRIE, 
 His majesty's lieutenant-general, and general 
 
 GOVERNOR OF IRELAND. 
 
 {eft* **{**» 
 
 THIS POEM is (with permission) 
 
 MOST RESP2CTFULLV INSCRIBED, 
 BY 
 
 his lordship's MOST OBEDIENT, 
 AND 
 •ERY HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
The following pages were not originally 
 intended to meet the public eye, — they were 
 undertaken solely for amusement; and would 
 never have appeared in print, had not the 
 Author yielded to the wishes of others, who 
 fancied they perceived in them a merit, to 
 which he fears they have little claim. 
 
 In fact, public opinion seems to be against 
 the possibility of subjecting Ossian to the 
 fetters of English metre, without stripping 
 him of his dignity, or losing in the gaudy 
 attire of modern poetry, that characteristic 
 simplicity and energy for which he is so 
 justly admired ; and which we so naturally 
 concatenate with the manners of the times 
 he depicts. 
 
« * 
 
 11 
 
 The Author therefore feels that he omes 
 before the world under great disadvantages ; 
 augmented by the very general prejudice in 
 favour of that dress in which Macpherson 
 has left the poems. 
 
 Although he did not conceive these con- 
 siderations entitled absolutely to preclude the 
 attempt ; they have, however, almost insen- 
 sibly (and he suspects, in far too many in- 
 stances) induced him to follow rather closely 
 the phraseology of Macpherson's translation, 
 Macpherson's Notes have also been retained, 
 with some additions. 
 
 The reception of this, his first essay, will 
 determine the propriety of his offering a ver- 
 sification of the remaining poems of Ossian, 
 
 JPbrth, February, 1818, 
 
TJEMORA: 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 CairbaH, the son of Borbarduthal, lord of Atha, iri Connaught, the most 
 potent chief of the race of the Firbolg, having murdered at Temora, thq 
 royal palace, Cormac, the son of Artho, the young king of Ireland, 
 usurped the throne. Cormac was lineally descended from Conar, the 
 son of Trenmor, the great grandfather of Fingal, king of those Caledo- 
 nians who inhabited the western coast of Scotland, Fingal resented the 
 behaviour of Cairbar, and resolved to pass over with an army, into Ire- 
 land, to re-establish the royal family on the Irish throne. Early intelli- 
 gence of his designs coming to Cairbar, he assembled some of his tribes 
 in Ulster, and at the same time ordered his brother Cathmor to follow him 
 speedily with an army. Such was the situation of affairs when the Cale- 
 donian invaders appeared on the coast of Ulster. 
 
 The poem opens in the morning. Cairbar is represented as retired from the 
 rest of his army, when one of his scouts brought him the news of the 
 landing of Fingal. He assembles a council of his chiefs. Foldath, the 
 chief of Moma, haughtily despises the enemy; and is reprimanded 
 warmly by Malthos. Cairbar, after hearing their debate, orders a feast 
 A 
 
ARGUMENT, 
 
 to be prepared, to which, by his bard 011a, he invites Oscar, the son of 
 Ossian ; resolving to pick a quarrel with that hero, and to have some pre- 
 text for killing him. Oscar came to the feast ; the quarrel happened ; 
 the followers of both fought; and Cairbar rind Oscar fell by mutual 
 wounds. The noise of the battle reached Fingal's army. The king 
 came on to the relief of Oscar, and the Irish fell back to the army of 
 Cathmor, who was advanced to the banks of the river Lubar, on the 
 heath of Moi-lena. Fingal, after mourning over his grandson, ordered 
 Ullin, the chief of his bards, to carry his body to Morven, to be there 
 interred. Night coming on, Althan, the son of Conachar, relates to the 
 king the particulars of the murder of Cormac. Fillan, the son of Fingal, 
 is sent to observe the motion of Cathmor by night. Which concludes 
 the actions of the first day. The scene of this Canto is a plain, near the 
 hill of Mora, which rose on the borders of the heath of Moi-lena, ii> 
 Ulster. 
 
 I. 
 
 JL he purple waves of Erin roll in light ; 
 The mountain tops with orient day are bright; 
 Trees shake their dusky heads amid the gale ; 
 Grey torrents echo through the misty vale. 
 Two hills whose brows with aged oaks are crOwn'd 
 On either side a narrow dale high-bound : 
 On the green margin of a stream, that flow'd 
 With limpid current through the valley, stood 
 
Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 Cairbar of Atha. * — Darkly on his spear 
 The gloomy chieftain leans. Remorse and fear 
 In his fierce eye with phrenzied wildness roll !— 
 The murder'd Cormac rises in his soul : 
 He sees his ghastly form before him glide ; 
 Blood seems to gush forth from its airy side ! 
 A chilling horror o'er the tyrant grows ; 
 Quick on the earth his beamy lance he throws; 
 Wildly he paces o'er the dew-moist ground, 
 And often flings his sinewy arms around.— 
 As when a cloud impell'd by howling storm 
 Varies to every blast its pregnant form ; 
 Dark'ning around the shadowy valleys lour, — 
 Now each by turns expects the impending show'r ! 
 The king at length re$um'd his soul : He took 
 His spear, and straight- way turn'd his anxious looH 
 Toward Moi-lena. Pistant o'er its plain 
 He sees his fleet scouts from the rolling main 
 Rapid-retiring: — 'Mid their steps of fear 
 Oft look'd they back. He judg'd the mighty near; 
 And calFd his gloomy chiefs. 
 
* TEMORAs Canto L 
 
 II. 
 
 Around their lord 
 The warriors throng. Each drew at once his sword. 
 There dark-faced Morla a gleam'd in arms ; and young 
 Hidalla, mildly blooming son of song ! 
 The red-hair'd Cormar bending o'er his lance 
 His side-long-looking eyes dark-rolls askance. 
 Stern Malthos from beneath his shaggy brows 
 Wildly around his piercing glances throws. 
 Firm as a rock, which o'er the stormy main 
 High-tow'ring views its billows with disdain, 
 Stands Foldath, 3 haughty chief ! His glittering spear 
 Is like the cloud-enrob'd Slimora's fir, 
 That braves the winds of heav'n ! His shield wide o'er 
 Is deep-indented with the strokes of war. 
 In his red eye contempt of danger reigns : 
 The fire of battle gloweth in his veins ! 
 These, and a thousand other chiefs of fame, 
 Stood round the king of Erin,— when swift-came 
 The scout of ocean : — fleet Mor-annai hies 
 From wide Moi-lena's streamy plain ; his eyes 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM, 
 
 111 tidings bear ! his trembling lips are pale ; 
 As he in breathless haste flies through the vale, 
 
 III. 
 He thus : — " And do the chiefs of Erin's might 
 Stand dark and silent as the grove of night? — 
 Stand ye, O warriors ! — proud * Alnecma's boast f 
 A silent wood ! and Fingal on the coast ? 
 Fingal ! the streamy Morven's far-fam'd king, — 
 Dreadful in battle as the lightning's wing !" 
 " Didst thou the king of Morven then descry ?" 
 Said gloomy Cairbar with a rising sigh. 
 " Say, are his heroes many on our shore ? 
 Doth he in peace approach ? or lift the spear of war ?" 
 " O king of Erin ! baleful strife is near ! — 
 No peace he brings — I've seen his forward spear ! 4 
 It is a meteor of death : the blood 
 Of thousands on its glittering point hath flow'd ! 
 Strong in the hoary locks of age, he came 
 First to the shore, amid his chiefs' acclaim. 
 
 * Alnecma (Connaught) the native province of Cairbar, and his chiefs. 
 
6 TEMORA: Canto I. 
 
 Full rose his sinewy limbs, refulgent glow'd 
 His rattling steel, as in his might he strode ! 
 Now at his side he bears the sword renown'd* — 
 That deathful blade, which gives no second wound J 
 His shield's terrific on his mighty arm — 
 The bloody moon ascending through a storm I 
 Then Ossian came— the king of songs : And then 
 Great Morni's noble son, the first of men ! 
 Connal leaps forward on his lengthy spear. 
 The portly Dermid spreads his dark-brown hair, 
 Blue-shielded Fillan bends his trusty bow, — 
 Young hunter of the streamy Moruth's roe. 
 But who is this before them, like the course 
 Of swelling torrent in its wintry force ?— 
 The son of Ossian gallant ! bright is he 
 As morning's beam emerging from the sea ! 
 His long hair on his back in ringlets flows i 
 In steel are half-conceal'd his fine dark brows. 
 Loose-hangs the sword of conquest on his side ; 
 His spear bright-glitters as he moves in pride \ 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 king of high Temora's echoing halls ! 
 
 1 fled his eyes ; — his very glance appals !" 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Then fly with trembling steps, thou feeble man \ 
 Fly quickly to thy peaceful streams again, 
 Son of the little soul !" dark Foldath cries : 
 While with contemptuous wrath the scout he eyes* 
 " Have I not seen that Oscar ?— Yea, I have 
 Beheld the chief in war. — He's of the brave : 
 Yet others shall be found to lift the spear — 
 Erin has many sons who know not fear, 
 O king of * Inisfail ! Let Foldath meet 
 This warrior, in his vaunted might : now let 
 Me stop tills wintry stream— ^this deadly foe, — 
 From whose dire -beaming eyes such terrors flow f 
 My blood-stain'd lance hath made the valiant fall ; 
 My shield is strong as mossy Tura's wall !" 
 
 V. 
 " Shall Foldath then alone the proud foe meet ?" 
 Replied the dark-brow'd Malthos. 6 — " Fond conceit ! 
 
 * Ireland, 
 
S rEMORA: C*nU>L 
 
 •'• Are not the heroes of their storrr. :.:»: 
 
 Like congregated waters on our co : 
 
 Who vauquh: Bed? — . 
 
 it thote chiefs the fiery conflict k 
 Shall Foldath lay their bravest warrior low ? 
 How oft will thy prcud heart its folly show. 
 
 ;e the people's strength ! Let Maithos join I 
 dy think all giory to be thine 
 Though slaughter oft hath redden'd Maithos' sword, 
 Who I heard a boasting word?" 
 
 VL 
 "Sonsofgrc: aive 
 
 Such vain disp v.:-. — rdiy of the brave. 
 
 ing Gf Morven heard your worcs ? — 
 How 'twould rejoice the haughty chief of swore 
 
 B his presumptuous hand 
 To hear the voice of discord in our land. 
 - e, mighty are ye ail, ye race of war I 
 k'ning tempest from the ocean's roar ! 
 A storm that meets the lofty cliff, and sweeps 
 From its denuded brow in shatterM heaps 
 
Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. I 
 
 The tall wood to the ground ! But let our force 
 Be like a cloud, still gathering in its course ! 
 Then shall the mighty feel destruction near:— 
 The hand of valour, trembling, drop the spear ! 
 • We see the dismal cloud of death* !' they'll cry : 
 While shadows o'er their faces dimly fly.— 
 The aired Fingal soon shall mourn he came 
 On Erin's shores, to lose his dear-bought fame ! 
 In Morvcn's halls the chief's proud steps shall cease ; 
 " The moss of years in Selma shall increase ! 
 
 VII. 
 Cairbar their words in gloomy silence hears : 
 As a distended cloud its show'r defers 
 On Cromla ; dark the watery mass abides, 
 'Till forked light'ning bursts its full-grown sides; 
 With heaven's flame the valley gleams around ; 
 The spirits of the storm in exult wild resound ! 
 So stood the king, his eyes fix'd on the earth, — 
 In thought deep-sunk. At length his words broke forth 
 
 * See Appendix, Note («). 
 
!€> TEMOR A : Canto L 
 
 st Along Moi-lena let the feast extend, 
 And all my hundred bards of song attend.— 
 Thou, red-hair'd Olla, in thy hand now bear 
 The royal harp ; to Oscar quick repair. 
 Bid to our joy the chief of swords. — (To-day 
 We feast, and hear the glad-inspiring lay : 
 To-morrow break the spears j) * * — 
 Tell him my hand the tomb of Cathol s rais'd • 
 Tell him melodious bards his friend have prais'd ; 
 Tell him his glorious deeds, his mighty name 
 From Carun s> traveli'd on the wings of fame. — 
 Cathmor I0 my valiant brother is not here ; 
 We wait until his well-prov'd bands draw near: 
 Strong shall our hands be when his thousands come a 
 To drive presumptuous Fingal from their home! 
 But Cathmor ne'er would see dissention grow 
 Amid a feast — would ne'er behold the foe 
 Dark-fall before my vengeful arm : — his soul 
 Is bright as yonder sun, that cloudless now doth roll ! 
 
Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. 11 
 
 Yet Cairbar, O ye chiefs of Erin's might ! 
 
 With Oscar must contend in mortal fight. — 
 
 For Cathol many were his words : I feel 
 
 My wrath now burn ! — Nor shall he 'scape my steel : 
 
 This day the proud chief on Moi-lena dies. — 
 
 In blood the fame of Cairbar shall arise V* 
 
 vnr. 
 
 Their faces brighten'd round with joy. Again 
 
 They spread along Moi-lena's streamy plain. 
 
 The feast is wide prepar'd ; bards loudly swell the strain. 
 
 The chiefs of woody Selma heard their joy : " 
 
 We thought the mighty Cathmor's host was nigh, — 
 
 Cathmor, the friend of strangers ! — brightest star 
 
 Of Erin's pride ! — a prince renowned afar. 
 
 Though brother of the ruthless Cairbar, ne'er 
 
 Did brothers' souls a less resemblance bear ! 
 
 The light of heav'n in Cathmor's bosom glow'd ; 
 
 His eye with soft compassion's tear o'erflow'd. 
 
 On Atha's banks his stately towers rose : 
 
 There did the weary ever find repose I 
 
12 TEMORA: Canto I. 
 
 Seven paths led to his halls : on each was plac'd 
 A chief, who calPd the stranger to the feast. 
 But Borbar-duthul's brave and generous son 
 Dwelt in the # wood, — the voice of praise to shun ! 
 
 IX. 
 With songs approach'd the treacherous Cairbar's bard. 
 The noble Oscar to his feast repair'd. 
 Three-hundred warriors strode along the plain 
 Of brown Moi-lena, with the first of men. 
 The grey dogs bounded on the wide heath : their 
 Deep howls now reach'd with doleful sound afar ! 
 Fingal beheld the dauntless youth depart : 
 Sad was his soul ! — he dreaded lest the heart 
 Of gloomy Cairbar should amid the feast 
 Conceive some purpose dire against his guest. 
 My son rais'd high the murder'd Cormac's spear. 
 And now an hundred bards with songs draw near 
 To meet the chief, and praise his deeds in war. 
 Cairbar with smiles cojiceal'd the death which strayM 
 Through his perfidious soul. The feast is spread ; 
 
 * In Canto VIII. there is an allusion to the place to which Catlmiop was 
 *n the habit of retiring : he requests to be interred near it. 
 
Canto I. AN EPIC POEM 13 
 
 The shells resound ; joy brightly seems to glow 
 O'er the dark visage of th' insidious foe : — 
 'Twas as the sun a parting beam displays, 
 When in a storm he is to hide his rays ! 
 
 X. 
 In arms of war doth haughty Cairbar rise. 
 The flame of discord burneth in his eyes ! 
 The hundred harps now cease ; the shield is struck ; u 
 The chiefs around in wild confusion look. 
 Olla's dire notes the bloody purpose show ; 
 Far-distant on the heath he rais'd a song of woe. 
 My son perceiv'd the storm of death was near ; 
 And, rising, seiz'd with solid grasp his spear. 
 " Oscar I" said datk-red Cairbar, " I behold 
 The spear of Erin 13 * — of her kings of old ! — 
 Son of the woody Morven's distant land, 
 Temora's * spear now glitters in thy hand ! 
 An hundred kings M that spear in triumph bore : 
 Unnumber'd heroes dyed it with their gore ! 
 
 * Ti'mor-i', the house of the great king ; the name of the royal palace of 
 the supreme kings of Ireland. 
 
I* TEMORAs Canto L 
 
 Yield it to me, thou son of Ossian !— Yield 
 It to the arm that doth proud Erin wield !?' 
 
 XL 
 66 Shall I," said Oscar, " yield at they command, 
 The gift I had of fair-hair'd Cormac's hand— 
 The gift which Erin's injured king bestow'd, 
 When o'er his scatter'd foes my steel had glow'd ? 
 When Swaran fled from Fingal's might, I came 
 To Cormac's joyful halls, amid my fame; 
 The beams of gladness brighten'd o'er his face ; 
 He gave the spear of high Temora's race I 
 Jt was not to a puny arm resign'd ; 
 Nor is it guarded by a nerveless mind.-*— 
 In vain doth darkness gather on thy brow. 
 In vain do thy fierce eyes with fury glow. — 
 ' Think'st thou I tremble at thy clanging shield ? 
 Think'st thou that OUa's song can make me yield ? 
 No! — fright the feeble with thy coward rave: — 
 Oscar's a rock that all thy storm doth brave !'* 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 35 
 
 XII. 
 " Wilt thou not yield the spear ?" proud Cairbar cries, 
 " Doth vain presumption in thy soul now rise, 
 Because the king of Morven's groves is near ?*— 
 Can Fingal's aged locks make Cairbar fear ? 
 Fingal has fought with feeble men before : 
 But let him meet Alnecma's chiefs in war; 
 Soon must he vanish, — as the mist of night 
 Before the winds of Atha * takes to flight !" 
 " Where he, f " who fought with feeble men" beside 
 The chief of Atha, of the heart of pride ! 
 Far other thoughts would Atha's chief inspire : 
 He'd yield Green Erin, to avoid his ire ! — 
 O Cairbar, speak not of the mighty lord ! — 
 On me now turn thy proudly vaunting sword : 
 Our strength is equal on the echoing plain : 
 " But Fingal is renown'd— the first of mortal men !" 
 
 * Atha, shallow river ; the name of Cairbar's seat in Connaughi, 
 \ Oscar replies. 
 
IS TEMORA : Canto I. 
 
 XIIL 
 
 Their people saw the dark'ning chiefs : around 
 Their crowding steps, and rattling steel resound; 
 Their rolling eyes send forth the flame of death ; 
 A thousand shining swords half-quite the sheath. 
 Olla now rais'd the fatal song of war ; 
 The field hoarse-murmur'd like a torrent's roar ! 
 Then the proud joy of Oscar's soul appear'd : 
 His wonted joy when Fingal's horn was heard ! — 
 Dark as the swelling wave its tall head bends, 
 When rising wind the vasty ocean rends; 
 Fierce as wild tempest on a storm-beat coast, 
 With uplift steel came on false Cairbar's host. 
 
 XIV. 
 ♦Daughter of Toscar ! why that bursting tear ? 
 Thy hero is not falPn : his mighty spear 
 Shall many a deep and deadly wound bestow, 
 Ere thy brave Oscar sink beneath the foe ! 
 See how they fall before his trusty steel ! 
 As the tall forest of the desert hill, 
 
 * Malvina, 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. . J? 
 
 When wrathful from his drear abode, by night* 
 
 The ghost of stormy blasts fierce-wings his flight 5 
 
 His hand spreads round the stately trees, and wide 
 
 He strews them prostrate on the mountain-side !— 
 
 Dark Morla fell i Nor long Maronnan stood : 
 
 Connachar bended to the ground in blood ! 
 
 From his dread lance fled Cairbar : dropping down* 
 
 He darkly screens himself behind a stone 
 
 Of forms and curves :* The fell assassin, there, 
 
 Raises with secret hand his coward spear j 
 
 While crowding foes the warrior's glance divide. 
 
 With fatal stroke, he pierces Oscar's side ! 
 
 On his broad shield my hero fell amain : 
 
 His reeking blood now Wanders on the plain :— • 
 
 Yet doth his knee support the son of war; 
 
 His neVer-erring hand still grasps his spear ! 
 
 The deathful steel through Cairbar's fore-head glides, 
 
 And ev'n behind his dark-red locks divides ! 
 
 In dusty gloom he lies ! IS like shatter'd rock, 
 
 Which Cromla from its craggy brow hath shook ; 
 
 * For an explanation of the above term, see note B, in the Appendix, 
 
 c 
 
IS TEMORA Canto I. 
 
 When the green-vallied Erin tremblingly 
 
 *I)oth roek her lofty hills from sea to sea ! 
 
 XV. 
 But ne'er shall peerless Oscar rise again !— • 
 Faint on his buckler leans the first of men ! 
 His blood- moist spear is in his terrible hand :•• 
 Distant and dark the sons of Erin stand. — 
 Like roar of many streams their shouts ascend^ 
 And o'er Moi-lena's echoing vales extend. 
 The noise has reach'd the mighty Fingal's ear; 
 With rising soul he takes proud Selma's spear. 
 Wide on the heath before us mov'd the chief; 
 With out-stretch'd arm he spoke the words of grief: 
 " I hear the distant voice of war prevail ; 
 Wild-swell the shouts of Erin on the sale : 
 Young Oscar is alone, — your valiant lord !— 
 Rise, sons of Morven : join the hero's sword !" 
 
 XVI. 
 Ossian now rushes o'er the heath : In speed 
 Swift-bounding Fillan's steps the hind's exceed 
 
 * See Note (D) of the Appendix, 
 
Canto /. AN EPIC POEM. %$ 
 
 The noble Fingal strode along the field : 
 
 Lijrht dreadful-flashes from his full-orb'd shield I 
 
 The sons of Erin saw it distant far ; 
 
 Their trembling souls beheld dire vengeance near? 
 
 They knew the wrath of Morven's king arose: — 
 
 That wrath which pour'd destruction on his foes 1 
 
 We first arrive : Infuriate we engage; 
 
 Alnecma's haughty chiefs with- stand our rage. 
 
 But when the king in sounding arms drew near, 
 
 What heart of steel would dare his angry spear I 
 
 Wide-scatter'd o'er Moi-lena Erin fled : 
 
 Death mark'd their flight, and fear their foot-stepsjed 1 
 
 Alas ! with anguish-stricken hearts we found 
 
 My Oscar on his shield, — his blood around ! 
 
 Each face with silent sorrow darken'd o'er ; 
 
 Each turn'd his back, and wept the beam of war I 
 
 In vain the monarch strives to hide his tears ! 
 
 O'er Oscar's head his silvery beard appears; 
 
 While piteously the fallen chief he eyes. — 
 
 His faultering words are mingled deep with sighs* 
 
20 TEMORA ; Canto L 
 
 XVII. 
 " O Oscar ! Oscar ! art thou sunk in night, 
 Ere yet thy beam had reach'd its noon-day height ? 
 Alas ! the aged bosom o'er thee beats : 
 Relentless death its proudest hope defeats! 
 How fondly did I view thy rising fame ! 
 I weigh'd the growing glory of thy name ! 
 I view'd the future wars in which thy brand 
 Should wave in triumph o'er the hostile band I 
 When, when shall Selma hail a joyful heart ? 
 O when will sorrow from our hills depart ? 
 My sons ! in youth you fall — your deaths I trace ; 
 Fingal is now the last of his proud race!* 
 As short-liv'd meteor my fame doth glide ! 
 Friendless and dark my age must soon abide 
 Like a grey cloud within its hall ; nor e'er 
 Shall son's return in arms of conquest hear ! — 
 Weep, Morven's heroes ! flow your streaming eyes 1 
 Never, ah never more shall Oscar rise V* 
 
 * FingaPs mind is so occupied with grief for his beloved grandson, that 
 all his family seems vanished with him : although his two sons, Ossjan and 
 FilUn, now stand beside him. 
 
Canto I AN EPIC POEM. % 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And they did weep, O Fingal ! — dear was he ! 
 His arm to them the pledge of victory ! — 
 He went to battle, and the foe was driv'n, 
 Like feeble mist before the winds of heav'n I 
 Oft did his breast the storm of death defy>— * 
 Oft he return'd in peace amid their joy. — 
 No father mourns his son laid on the plain ; 
 No brother weeps his much lov'd brother slain ! 
 XJnmark'd they fall ! nor cause one pang of woe ; 
 For Morven's hope — their Oscar now is low ! 
 Bran * is sad-howling at his master's feet :— 
 Luath ! thou ne'er again his steps shalt greet I 
 Ne'er to the mountain- chase shall Oscar go ; 
 Ne'er shall he lead you to the bounding roe ! 
 
 XIX. 
 When Oscar heard his friends, the heavy eye 
 Of death he rais'd ; his breast faint-heav'd a sigh : 
 " The howling of my dogs — the aged chiefs, 
 Who now with groans and sighs deep-vent their griefs-^ 
 
 * JBran was one of Fingal'a dogs : Bran signifies a mountain sfcre&ss., 
 
2& TEMORA : Canto L 
 
 The sudden bursts of sorrow's piercing song— = 
 
 Have melted Oscar's soul — his bosom wrung ! 
 
 My soul that never melted was before : 
 
 ? Twas like the steel which this right-hand once bore I 
 
 Unto my hills, O Ossian ! take thy son ; 
 
 There do thou raise the stones of his renown. 
 
 Place by my side a deer's horn ; and this brand, 
 
 "Which ne'er was faithless to its master's hand I 
 
 The mountain-torrent may hereafter waste 
 
 The clay-cold bed from off my silent breast ; 
 
 Some hunter chance the trusty steel to find, 
 
 When to the dust my mould er'd frame's resign'd ; 
 
 And say — perhaps, amid his wandering tears — 
 
 « This has been Oscar's sword, the pride of other years I* 
 
 Son of my fame ! was that thy last deep sigh ! 
 
 Shall Oscar never glad his father's eye ! 
 
 When others o'er their rising beams rejoice, 
 
 Shall I not hear my Oscar's much-lov'd voice ! 
 
 The moss of years is on thy four grey stones ; 
 
 Tbe_ desert*wind o'er thy cold dwelling moans, • 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 23 
 
 Ne'er shall thy conquering hand the foe subdue ! 
 Ne'er shall thy feet the dark-brown hind pursue! 
 When warriors from their distant battles come* 
 And tell of other regions at their home; 
 * I've seen, beside a roaring stream,' (they'll say) 
 The dark tomb of a chief: in deathful fray 
 The once-renowned king of swords was slain, 
 By car-borne Oscar, — first of mortal men !' — 
 Their words may reach thy mournful father's ear ; 
 A ray of joy my clouded soul will cheer." 
 
 XX. 
 The night would have descended 'midst our woes, 
 And morning's beam in sorrow's cloud arose : 
 Our people like cold dropping rocks have stood ;— < 
 And Erin's plains the race of Albin * view'd 
 Forgetful of the war ! — had not the chief 
 Now with his mighty voice dispelled their grief: 
 As if from dreams new-waken'd, at the sound 
 The heroes lift their drooping heads around. 
 
 e< To this dsy the Highlanders call themselves Albanick, and tb«ft 
 country Albin." Dr Graham. 
 
34 tBMORA: Canto I, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 *' How long shall we thus on Moi-Iena weep ?* 
 
 How long with tears the soil of Erin steep ? 
 
 Our sorrow cannot ope the hero's eyes : 
 
 Your Oscar will not in his strength arise ! 
 
 Each in his day, the valiant sons of war 
 
 Must fall, and on their hills be known no more ! 
 
 O warriors ! where are those who gave us birth ?— 
 
 The chiefs of old increase the mouldering earth ! 
 
 They, like bright-setting stars, have hid their rays : 
 
 We see them not ; — but hear their deathless praise !— * 
 
 Yes ! — in their years renown'd, they led the fight : 
 
 The dread of foes — the dauntless sons of might ! 
 
 Thus shall we pass away ! Then let us pour 
 
 Our fulgent beams, ere come the dark'ning hour*— : 
 
 As, when the lovely son of heav'n descends 
 
 To his o'er- purpled west, the traveller bends 
 
 His lingering gaze, and mourns the absent flamej 
 
 So shall the times to come behold our fame !— * 
 
 *Fingal speaks.— See Note (C) of the Appendix 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 25 
 
 Ullin, my aged bard ! to thee the care,— • 
 
 To Selma of harps the lifeless Oscar bear. 
 
 In Fingal's ship retrace the billowy deep.— 
 
 Let Morven's daughters o'er their hero weep \ 
 
 For fallen Cormac's race we now must rear 
 
 On Erin's blood-stain'd shores th' avenging spear. 
 
 The years of Fingal swiftly glide away ; — 
 
 I feel the vigour of my arm decay :• — 
 
 My fathers from their hovering clouds look down, 
 
 Expectant to receive their grey-hair'd son ! 
 
 Ere I go hence, bright fame one ray shall lend ! 
 
 My years began, — with glory shall they end ! 
 
 Thy monarch's life one stream of light shall be ; 
 
 The future bard no cloud, no stain shall see !" 
 
 XXII. 
 Ullin spreads his sails. The southern wind resounds^ 
 To Selma on the rolling wave he bounds. 
 With Morven's king in sorrow I remain'd : 
 Yet from the words of grief my lips restrain'd. 
 The feast of shells is spread in silent gloom. 
 An hundred warriors rear fell Cairbar's tomb.— 
 
26 TEMORA: Canto L 
 
 But o'er the low-laid chief no plaint we hear — 
 
 No song funereal bursts upon the ear. — 
 
 His soul with blood was stain'd ! — the bards thought on 
 
 The fall of noble Artho's royal son : 
 
 How could they for his murderer raise one lay ? 
 
 What in the praise of faithless Cairbar say ? 
 
 XXIII. 
 Night now began to clothe the sky in shade. 
 An hundred oaks their ruddy flames display'd. 
 The king of Morven sat beneath a tree. 1<s 
 Amid us stood the aged Althan : (he 
 With Cormac in Teniora liv'd, when brave 
 Cuthullin fell at Lego's misty wave.) 
 Althan, the friend of Turn's mighty chief. — 
 He told of Cormac's fall. The tear of grief 
 Stood in his eye, while he to us declar'd 
 The mournful tale. — Thus spoke the soft-vojc'd bard : 
 
 XXIV. 
 *< The setting sun on Boira * shot its beams. 
 Grey evening mantled-o'er the distant streams. 
 
 * Doha, the woody side of a mountain ; it is here a hill in the neighbour- 
 hood of Temora. 
 
Canto X. AN EPIC POEM. 27 
 
 Temora's woods loud echo'd to the blast 
 
 Of the inconstant wind. Now in the west 
 
 A black cloud spread its sable gloom afar : 
 
 Red from behind its edge look'd forth a star. 
 
 As in the shady grove alone I stood, 
 
 Along the darkening air a huge ghost strode ! 
 
 From hill to hill his steps extended wide. 
 
 Dim-hung a broad shield On his airy side. — * 
 
 'Twas Semo's son, — the warrior's face I knew :— « 
 
 But in his blast he vanish'd from my view, 
 
 And all was dark around ! With thoughts of griefj 
 
 I reacted the tow'rs of Erin's lovely chief. 
 
 Silent and sad, I came into the hall 
 
 Of shells. — A thousand lights arose : and all 
 
 The hundred bards their mellow harps had strung. 
 
 Young Cormac stood amid the sons of song, — 
 
 Like the fair star of morn, when, bath'd in show'rs, 
 
 Its radiant beams on eastern hill it pours : 
 
 In silent progress bright it moves on high : 
 
 But, ah ! the dark obscuring cloud is nigh ! — 
 
28 TEMOKA: Canto I. 
 
 The sword of noble Arth * was in his hand : 
 With joy the artless king look'd on the brand, 
 And view'd its polish'd studs. Thrice he essay'd 
 With his young arm to draw the ponderous blade, 
 And thrice he fail'd ; — his cheeks of youth are red : 
 His yellow ringlets on his shoulders spread. 
 My soul lamented o'er the beam of light, — i 
 For it, alas 1 was soon to set in night ! f" 
 
 ixv. 
 
 " Thou hast, 6 Althan," said the smiling youth, 
 " Beheld the king, my noble sire? In sooth, 
 A mighty arm this heavy sword requir'd : — 
 Would I were like him when the battle fiYd f 
 I with the brave Cuthullin should have gone, 
 To meet in strife Cantela's ear-borne son. 
 But years may come, O Althan ! and my hand 
 Be strong to wield 'gainst Erin's foes this brand ! 
 Where is the son of Semo ? — hast thou heard 
 Of high Temora's ruler, gentle bard ? 
 
 * Artb, or Artho, was father to Cormac, king of Ireland 
 
 f The bards pretended to a prophetic spirit. J 
 
Canto I. AN EFIC POEM. 29 
 
 Is he victorious in the echoing fight ?— 
 The hero promis'd to return to-night. 
 My bards with songs await the joy he brings ; 
 My feast is spread within the hall of kings.'* 
 
 XXVI. -; 
 
 " In silence I heard Erin's lovely boy,— 
 With struggling sighs, and with o'erflowing eye. 
 I strove amid my aged locks to hide 
 My tears. The king perceiv'd my grief; he cried : 
 " Son of Connachar I is Cuthullin low ? — 
 Why bursts the sigh ? Why do thy tears thus flow ?— 
 Comes Torlath ? Comes Alnecma's red-hair'd chief? 
 Yes, yes, they come ! for I behold thy grief. 
 The mossy Tura's valiant king t? is low ! — 
 Cormac ! thy soul shall feel the pang of woe ! 
 Shall I not rush to battle ? Nay — I fear 
 My feeble hand yet could not lift the spear ! 
 O for the strength Cuthullin's arm could boast I 
 Soon should'st thou flee, vile Cairbar ! with thy host \ 
 My mighty fathers' glory be renew 'd : 
 The deeds of other times again be viewM !"' 
 
3© TEMORA: Canto I . 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 " He took his bow. Tears dim his sparkling eyes; 
 Dark sadness round the regal hall now flies : 
 The bards bend forward from their hundred lyres ; 
 The lonely blast has touch'd the trembling wires : 
 The sound is sad and low ! x8 * * * 
 A distant plaint of one in grief is heard.— 
 'Twas Carrilj voice of other times, the bard 
 Of Tura's king ; who from Slimora * came ;— * 
 He told Cuthullin's fall : he told his fame. 
 The sons of Ullin f dark were scatter'd round 
 The hero's tomb ; their arms lay on the ground : 
 In sorrow they forgot the„war : for he, 
 Their fire, was gone — their guide to victory !" 
 
 XXVIII. 
 6i But who are these, who come like bounding roes ?" 
 Said soft-voic'd Carril : " ruddy youth bright-glows 
 In their fair blooming cheeks ; their stature seems 
 Like young trees growing in the vale of streams ! — 
 
 * Slimora, a hill near Lego's lake, — which I suppose to he Loughneagh. 
 Near it Cuthullin was killed. 
 
 f The sons of Ullin, the Royal army under Cuthullin's command. Ullin 
 was the ancient name of Ulster* 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 31 
 
 Their radiant eyes and manly glance declare 
 Souls that ne'er felt the gelid touch of fear ! — 
 Who but the sons of streamy Etna's chief? — 
 Usnoth's brave sons who come to calm our grief! i% 
 On every side the people now arise : — 
 As when on fire that half-extinguish'd lies, 
 The loud winds from the desert-wild resound ; 
 Sudden the hill's dark brow is brighten'd round : 
 The passing mariner th' effulgence sees, 
 And wondering gazes, lingering in the breeze.—* 
 Again was heard the sound of Caithbat's * shield. 
 Our warriors in young Nathos now beheld 
 Their lost Cuthullin ! f So with valour's flame 
 Sparkle his eyes ; his stately step the same ! 
 Battles are fought in Lego's echoing dales ; 
 The sword of Usnoth's gallant s/a prevails : 
 Soon, king of Erin i shall the beam of war 
 With fame to high Temora's halls repair !" 
 
 • Caithbat was grandfather to Cuthullin ; and his shield W£S made use o£ 
 t© alarm his posterity to the battles of the family, 
 
 f Nathos was nephew to Cuthullin. 
 
22 TEMORA: Canto I, 
 
 « Soon," said the blue eyed king, " may I behold 
 
 The noble chief of whom my bard has told ! — 
 
 Alas, Cuthullin ! art thou then laid low ? 
 
 Thy voice was pleasant to mine ear ; thy bow 
 
 Unerring on the hills I Oft did we move 
 
 Together at the chase through Doira's grove, 
 
 The hero spoke of mighty men of yore ; 
 
 He told my fathers' glorious deeds in war ; 
 
 I felt a rising joy within my soul ; 
 
 And long'd to hear the stormy battle roll !— « 
 
 But sit thou a,t the feast, O Carrii ! I 
 
 Have often heard thy voice of melody ; 
 
 Sing of renown'd Cuthullin*s fame, O bard I 
 
 And let the car-borne Nathos'. praise be heard." 
 
 xxx, 
 
 €( Day rose on high Temora's tow'rs, with ajl 
 Its orient beams : Into the festive hall 
 Came Crathin, old Gellama's * son : Cried he, — 
 *« O king of Inisfail ! I hither see 
 
 * GeaHamha, while-handed* 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 23 
 
 An armed band advancing o'er the plain : 
 
 A cloud at first it seem'd ; but now a crowd of men ! 
 
 One strides before them, in his strength ; red-gleams 
 
 His hair, as on the morning-breeze it streams; 
 
 His bright shield glitters to the eastern sun ; 
 
 His spear is in his hand." — " Call him, anon, 
 
 Unto the feast :" the bright'ning king replies :•— 
 
 " Temora's hall the house of strangers is, 
 
 Son of the generous Gellama ! — Here 
 
 We wait the hero to partake our cheer. 
 
 It is, perhaps, the pride of Etna's land, 
 
 Who comes to greet us, with his conquering band. — ■ 
 
 Hail, * mighty guest ! art thou of Cormac's friends ? — 
 
 Carril, my bard ! — behold !-^-no ear he lends ! — 
 
 How dark and fierce he looks ! he draws his sword ! . 
 
 Is that the Usnoth's son our host ador'd ?" 
 
 XXXI. 
 « It is not Usnoth's son !" — said Carril.—-" No I 
 *Tis bloody Cairbar ! — 'tis thy mortal foe ! — 
 
 * From this expression, we find that Cairbar had entered the palace of 
 Temora in the midst of Cormac's speech. 
 
34 TEMOilA : Canto I. 
 
 Chief of the glootny brow ! why dost thou come 
 In arms of war, to high Temora's dome ? 
 Let not thy sword against young Cormac rise. — 
 To where thy speed ? — To where thy flaming eyes ? 
 " In darkness on he pass'd ; he seiz'd upon 
 The hand of noble Artho's royal son. 
 Cormac foresaw his death : His young eyes glow 
 With rage : while thus he to the savage foe : — 
 " Retire, thou chief of Atha ! Kathos draw 
 The sword of might in high Temora's cause. 
 Bold art thou here, for weak h Cormac's hand/' 
 Vain are his words, thrice-lovely youth ! — the brand 
 Ruthless is plung'd into his side — he falls ! — 
 His blood is smoking round his fathers' halls ! — 
 His fair hair in the dust !— he writhes with pain ! — 
 Ne'er shall that vernal cheek sweet-smile again ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 " O race of kings I" said Carril, " dost thou lie 
 Mangled and weltering in thy halls of joy ! 
 Alas ! Cuthullin's buckler was not near; 
 Nor the dread prowess of thy fathers spear ! 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 35 
 
 How doth green Erin darken-o'er with grief 
 Vanish'd her hopes! — low laid her lovely chief! 
 Blest be thy soul, O Cormac ! ere thy bloom 
 Then must thou wither in the cheerless tomb !" 
 
 XXXIII. 
 ?' His words now reach'd the fell usurper's ear ; 
 In darkness he immur'd us : * yet did fear 
 To stretch his sword against the bards, although 
 His stormy bosom ne'er felt pity's glow. 2 ° 
 Lone did we in the cave dark-pin ing-d well, 
 Till noble Cathmor came. — He from the cell 
 Heard the sad voice of our laments arise ; 
 And on fierce Cairbar turn'd his wrathful eyes." 21 
 
 XXXIV. 
 " Brother of Cathmor I" said the generous chief, 
 " How long wilt thou oppress my soul with grief? 
 Thy heart is merciless as a rock ; each thought 
 Of thy tempestuous breast with blood is fraught, 
 But thou art Cathmor's brother ! in thy war 
 I lift the spear, though I thy vice abhor ! 
 
 * That is Altban, and Carril ; as afterward appears* 
 
S6 TEMORA: Canto I, 
 
 Yet though for thee my sword in battle shine, 
 Think not that Cathmor's soul is like to thine, — 
 Thou feeble hand in fight ! My bosom bleeds — 
 Its light is stained with thy bloody deeds ! 
 Lonely and drear my ghost its course shall wing ; 
 No tuneful bard of its renown will sing. * 
 They may confess me brave : — ' but Cathmor fought 
 For gloomy Cairbar ; all his deeds were nought !' 
 In reckless silence by my grave they'll pass : 
 
 No dropping tear will moist its wither'd grass ! — 
 
 My fame will not be heard.— Then cease thy crimes ! — 
 
 Go, Cairbar ! loose the sons of future times ! 
 
 In years when all Temora's kings have faiFd, 
 
 Their strains will live — their pleasant voice be haiPd ! 
 
 Forth from the cave we came at Cathmor's words ; 
 
 "We saw him in his strength : — O king of swords ! 
 
 He look'd like thee, when first thy youthful spear 
 
 Began to glitter through the clouds of war ! 
 
 His face was as the sun's meridian glow — 
 
 No darkness traveled o'er his noble brow. 
 
 * See the notes on Cantos VII. and VIII. 
 
Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. 37 
 
 But he, O Fingal ! with his thousands came, 
 In Cairbar's aid to lift the shield of fame ; 
 And now, O king of Morven ! is he near, 
 For Cairbar's death to wield the vengeful spear J'' 
 
 XXXV. 
 " Let Cathmor come," replied the son of might.* 
 I love a foe so great ! His soul is bright ; 
 His arm is strong ; his battles full of fame :— 
 'Twill proudly hand to future times my name 
 But, as a sickly vapour hovers round 
 The marshy lake, or creeps along the ground : 
 But never rises to the green hill's air, — 
 Lest the proud winds should haply meet it there : 
 So is the little soul — it seeks the cave ; 
 Sends forth the dart of death : but shuns the brave 
 In our young heroes we, O chiefs ! behold 
 Our fathers' dread renown in days of old : — 
 In youth they fight ! — And if in youth some fell, 
 Deathless their names in glowing song will dwell I 
 
 * Fingal. The greater part of this section is an allusion to the death of 
 Oscar. 
 
38 TEMORA l CanU 
 
 Fingal is now amid his darkening years : 
 But, though chill winter on his branch appears* 
 Unseen he must not fall J — as when an oak 
 Across a secret stream is thrown, by shock 
 Of nightly storm : the hunter it espies, 
 As 'neath the misty gale it mouldering lies ; 
 6 How fell that aged tree/ perchance he'll say; 
 And, reckless, o'er the heath pursue his way. — 
 Ye bards of Morven j raise the song of joy : 
 Let not past grief our souls to gloom decoy ! 
 The red stars from their clouds toward us bend ; 
 They're past their height, and silently descend. 
 Soon will grey morn its golden lamp disclose : 
 Soon will it shew us fallen Cor mac's foes !.— * 
 Fillan, my son 1 take Selma's regal spear; 
 Anon to Mora's dark-brown side repair: 
 Let thine eyes travel o'er the heath ; do thou 
 Observe the foes of Fingal from its brow. 
 Mark well the warlike Cathmor's nightly course.-— 
 I hear a deep'ning sound — a murmur hoarse, — 
 
Canto L AN EPIC POEM, 
 
 Like distant falling rocks in deserts. But, 
 Strike thou the shield, at times ; that they may not 
 Approach in arms beneath night's dusky veil. 
 And the proud fame of conquering Morven fail.— 
 Fillan ! a bulwark of our land is gone ! 
 My son I I dread the fall of my renown !" 
 
 XXXVI. 
 The voice of bards melodious swells the strain. 
 On Trenmor's shield reclines the king of men. 
 Soft slumber stealeth on his weary eyes ; 
 His future battles in his dreams arise. 
 The host around in sleep forget their woe : 
 And blue-ey'd Clatho's * son observes the foe. 
 His steps are on a distant hill ; his shield, 
 At times, re-echoes through the death- still field. 
 
 * Clatho, Fingal's second wife, was the mother of Fillan, 
 
 END OF THE FIRST CANT9. 
 
NOTES 
 
 THE FIRST CANTO, 
 
 I. 
 
 1 Cairbar the son of Borbar-duthal, was descended 
 lineally from Lathon, chief of the Firbolg, the first colony 
 who settled in Ireland. The Cael were in possession of the 
 northern coast of that kingdom, and the first monarchs of 
 Ireland were of their race. Hence arose those differences 
 between the two nations, which terminated at last, in the 
 murder of Cormac, and the usurpation of Cairbar, lord of 
 Atha, who is mentioned in this place. 
 
 II. 
 
 2 Mor-lath, great in the day of battle. Hidalla', mildly 
 looking hero. Cormac, expert at sea. Malthos, sloxv to speak* 
 Foldath, generous. 
 
 3 Foldath, who is here strongly marked, makes a great 
 figure in the sequel of the poem. His fierce, uncomplying 
 character is sustained throughout. He seems, from a passage 
 in the second book, to have been Cairbar's greatest confidant, 
 and to have had a principal hand in the conspiracy against 
 Cormac, king of Ireland. His tribe was one of the most 
 considerable of the race of the Firbolg. 
 
42 NOTES. Canto I. 
 
 III. 
 
 * Mor-annal here alludes to the particular appearance of 
 Jmgal's spear. If a man, upon his" first landing in a strange 
 country, kept the point of his spear forward, it denoted, in 
 those days, that he came in a hostile manner, and according- 
 ly he was treated as an enemy ; if he kept the point hehind 
 him, it was a token of friendship, and he was immediately in- 
 vited to the feast, according to the hospitality of the times, 
 
 5 This was the famous sword of Fingal, made by Luno, 
 a smith of Lochlin, and after him poetically called the son of 
 Luno ; it is said of this sword that it killed a man at every 
 stroke ; and that Fingal never used it but in times of the 
 greatest danger. 
 
 V. 
 
 6 The opposite characters of Foldath and Malthos are 
 strongly marked in subsequent parts of the poem. They ap- 
 pear always in opposition. The feuds between their families, 
 which were the source of their hatred one to another, are 
 mentioned in other poems. 
 
 VI. 
 
 7 Hidalla was the chief of Clonra, a small district on the 
 banks of the lake of Lego. The beauty of his person, his 
 eloquence and genius for poetry, are afterwards mentioned. 
 
 VII. 
 
 8 Cathol, the son of Maronnan, or Moran, was murdered 
 l)y Cairbar, for his attachment to the family of Cormac. He 
 
Canto L NOTES. 43 
 
 had attended Oscar to the *war of Inis-thona, where they con- 
 tracted a great friendship for one another. Oscar immedi- 
 ately after the death of Cathol, had sent a formal challenge 
 to Cairbar, which he prudently declined, but conceived a 
 secret hatred against Oscar, and had beforehand contrived to 
 kill him at the feast, to which he here invites him. 
 
 Cairbar here shows himself not only the hardened vil- 
 lain, but likewise exhibits a dissimulation, and artifice, ex- 
 cessively disgusting. — He pretends the greatest penitence for 
 the murder of Cathol* Oscar's friend, says that he had made 
 the only atonement in his power, — that of giving him an ho- 
 nourable burial : and in order the more certainly to cajole 
 the noble, and unsuspicious Oscar, he flatters him by saying, 
 that his admiration of his glorious actions and character, 
 (that for which he so cordially hated him,) had inspired him 
 with a wish to cultivate his friendship. 
 
 ( Alas ! I fear there are Cairbars still to be found, with- 
 out going out of the bounds of Christendom !) 
 
 9 He alludes to the battle of Oscar against Caros, king 
 ef ships ; who is supposed to be the same with Carausius, the 
 usurper. 
 
 10 Cathmor, great in battle^ the son of Borbar-dulhul, and 
 brother oF Cairbar, king of Ireland, had, before the insurrec- 
 tion of the Firbolg, passed over into Inis-huna, supposed to 
 be a part of South Britain, to assist Conmor, king of that 
 
U NOTES. Canto I. 
 
 place, against his enemies. Cathraor was successful in the war ; 
 but, in the course of it, Conmor was either killed, or died a 
 natural death. Cairbar, upon receiving intelligence of Fin- 
 gal's designs to dethrone him, had dispatched a messenger to 
 Cathmor, who returned to Ireland a tew days before the open- 
 ing of the poem. 
 
 Cairbar here takes advantage of his brother's absence, to 
 perpetrate his ungenerous designs against Oscar; for the no- 
 ble spirit or Cathmor, aad he been present, would not have 
 permit led the laws of that hospitality, for which he was so re- 
 nowned himself, to be violated. The brothers form a strik- 
 ing contrast : we do not detest the mean soul of Cairbar more 
 than we admire the disinterested and generous mind of Cath- 
 mor. 
 
 VIII. 
 11 Fingal's army heard the joy that was in Cairbar's camp. 
 The character given of Cathmor is agreeable to the times. 
 Some through ostentation, were hospitable ; and others fell 
 naturally into a custom handed down from their ancestors. 
 But what marks strongly the character of Cathmor, is his a- 
 version to praise ; for he is represented to dwell in a wood to 
 avoid the thanks of his guests ; which is still a higher degree 
 of generosity than that of Axylus in Homer : for the poet 
 does not say, but the good man might, at the head of his 
 own table, have heard with pleasure the praise bestowed on 
 him by the people he entertained. 
 
 No nation in the world carried hospitality to a greater 
 
Canto I. NOTES. 45 
 
 length than the ancient Scots. It was even infamous, for 
 many ages, in a man of condition, to have the door of his 
 house shut at all, lest, as the bards express it, the stran- 
 ger SHOULD COME AND BEHOLD HIS CONTRACTED SOUL. 
 
 Some of the chiefs were possessed of this hospitable disposi- 
 tion to an extravagant degree ; and the bards, perhaps upon 
 a private account, never failed to recommend it in their eulo- 
 giums. Cean nia na dia\ or, the point to which all the roads 
 of the strangers lead, was an invariable epithet given by them 
 to the chiefs ; on the contrary, they distinguished the inhos- 
 pitable by the title of the cloud tvhich the strangers shun. This 
 last, however, was so uncommon, that in all the old poems, 
 I ever met with, I found but one man, branded with this ig- 
 nominious appellation ; and that, perhaps, only founded upon 
 a private quarrel, which subsisted between him and the pa- 
 tron of the bard, who wrote the poem. 
 
 X. 
 
 12 When a chief was determined to kill a person already in 
 his power, it was usual to signify that his death was intended, 
 by the sound of a shield struck with the blunt end of a spear; 
 at the same time, that a bard at a distance raised the death song. 
 
 13 Cormac, the son of Arth, had given the spear, which is 
 here the foundation of the quarrel, to Oscar, when he came to 
 congratulate him upon Swaran's being expelled from Ireland. 
 
 14 Hundred here is an indefinite number, and is only in- 
 tended to express a great many. It was probably the hyper- 
 bolical phrases of bards, that gave the first hint to the Irish 
 
 H 
 
4$ NOTES. Canto I. 
 
 senachies to place the origin of their monarchy in so remote 
 a period as they have done. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 15 The Irish historians place the death of Cairbar in the 
 latter end of the third century : they say, he was killed in 
 battle against Oscar the son of Ossian, but deny that he fell 
 by his hand.' 
 
 It is. however, certain that the Irish bards disguise, in 
 some measure, this part of their history. An Irish poem 
 concerning the battle of Gabhra, where Cairbar fell, is just 
 now in my hands. As a translation of the poem (which though 
 evidently no very ancient composition, does not want poetical 
 merit), would extend this note to too great a length, I shall 
 only give the story of it in brief, with some extracts from the 
 original Irish. 
 
 Oscar, says the Irish bard, was invited to a feast, at Te- 
 mora, by Cairbar, king of Ireland. A dispute arose between 
 the two heroes, concerning the exchange of spears, which 
 was usually made between the guests and their hosts, on such 
 occasions. In the course of their altercation, Cairbar said, 
 in a boastful manner, that he would hunt on the hills of Al- 
 bion, and carry the spoils of it into Ireland, in spite of all the 
 efforts of it's inhabitants. The original words are : — 
 
 Briathar buan sin ; Briathar buan 
 A bheireadh au Cairbre rua', 
 Gu tuga' se sealg, agus creach 
 A b' Albin an la 'r mhaireach. 
 
 Oscar replied, that, next day, he himself would carry in- 
 
Canto L NOTES. 
 
 to Albion the spoils of the five provinces of Ireland, in spite 
 of the opposition of Cairbar. 
 
 Briathar eile an aghai sin 
 
 A bheirea' an t' Oscar, og, calma 
 
 Gu 'n tugadh se sealg agus creach 
 
 Do dh' Albin an la 'r na mhaireach, &c. 
 Oscar, in consequence of his threats, began to lay waste Ire- 
 land ; but as he returned with the spoil into Ulster, through 
 the narrow pass of Gabhra (Caoil ghlen Ghabhra) he was met 
 by Cairbar, and a battle ensued, in which both the heroes 
 fell by mutual wounds. The bard gives a very curious list of 
 the followers of Oscar, as they marched to battle. They ap- 
 pear to have been five hundred in number, commanded, as 
 the poet expresses it, by Jive heroes of the blood of kings. 
 This poem mentions Fingal, as arriving from Scotland, be- 
 fore Oscar died of his wounds. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 16 Althan, the son of Conachar, was the chief bard of 
 Arth, king of Ireland. After the death of Arth, Althan attend- 
 ed his son Cormac, and was present at his death. He made 
 his escape from Cairbar, by the means of Cathmor, and coming 
 to Fingal, related, as here, the death of his master, Cormac. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 17 Cuthullin is called the king of Tura, from a castle of that 
 name, on the coast of Ulster, where he dwelt, before he un- 
 dertook the management of the affairs of Ireland, in the mi- 
 nority of Cormac. 
 
 XXVII. 
 38 That prophetic sound, mentioned in other poems, which 
 
48 NOTES. Canto I. 
 
 the harps of the bards emitted before the death of a person 
 worthy and renowned. It is here an omen of the death of 
 Cormac, which soon after followed. 
 XXVIII. 
 
 19 Usnoth, chief of Etha, a district on the western coast 
 of Scotland, had three sons, Nathos, Althos, and Ardan, by 
 Slissama, the sister of Cuthullin. The three brothers, when 
 very young, were sent over to Ireland by their father, to learn 
 the use of arms under their uncle, whose military fame was 
 very great in that kingdom. They had just arrived in Ulster 
 when the news of Cuthullin's death arrived. Nathos, the 
 eldest of the three brothers, took the command of Cuthul- 
 lin's army, and made head against Cairbar the chief of Atha. 
 
 Cairbar having, at last, murdered young king Cormac, 
 at Temora, the army of Nathos shifted sides, and the broth- 
 ers were obliged to return into Ulster, in order to pass over 
 into Scotland. The sequel of their mournful story, is relat- 
 ed at large in the poem of Darthula. 
 XXXIII. 
 
 2Q The persons of the bards were so sacred, that even 
 he, who had just murdered his sovereign, feared to kill them. 
 
 31 Cathmor appears the same disinterested hero upon 
 every occasion. His humanity and generosity were unparal- 
 leled : in short, he had no fault, but too much attachment to 
 so bad a brother as Cairbar. His family connection with 
 Cairbar, prevails, as he expresses it, over every other consi- 
 deration, and makes him engage in a war, of which he does 
 not approve. 
 
TEMOR A : 
 
 AN EPIC POEM- 
 
 CANTO It 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This Canto opens, we may suppose, about midnight, with a soliloquy of J 
 Ossian, who had retired, from the rest of the army, to mourn for his 
 son Oscar. Upon hearing the noise of Cathmor's approaching army, he 
 went to find his brother Fillan, who kept the watch, on the hill of Mora, 
 in front of Fingal's ai-my. In the conversation of the two brothers, the 
 episode of Conar, the son of Trenmor, who was the first king of Ire- 
 land, is introduced, which lays open the origin of the con+est between 
 the Cael and Firbolg, the two nations which first possessed themselves of 
 that island. Ossfan kindles a fire on Mora ; upon which Cathmor de- 
 sisted from the design he had formed of surprising the army of the Ca- 
 ledonians, He calls a council of his Chiefs ; reprimands Foldath for 
 advising a night attack, as the Irish army were so much superior in num- 
 ber to the enemy. The bard Fonar introduces the story of Crothar, the 
 ancestor of the king ; which throws further light on the history of Ire- 
 
SO ARGUMENT. Canto II, 
 
 land, and the original pretentions of the family of Atha to the throne of 
 thaf. kingdom. The Irish Chiefs lie down to rest, and Cathmor himself 
 undertakes the watch. In his circuit round the army, he is met by Os- 
 sian. The interview of the two heroes is described. Cathmor obtains a 
 promise from Ossian, that a funeral elegy should be sung over the grave 
 of Cairbar ; it being the opinion of the times, that the souls of the dead 
 could not be happy, till their elegies were sung by a bard. Cathmor and 
 Ossian part ; and the latter casually meeting with Carril, the son of Kin- 
 fena, sends that bard, with a funeral song, to the tomh of Cairbar. 
 
 I. 
 
 1 Father of heroes ! Thou who dwell'st on high, 
 
 Where eddying winds, and thunders shake the sky I 
 
 O Trenmor ! open wide thy stormy halls : 
 
 The pride of Morven, at thy mansion calls. 
 
 Let bards of old, with airy harps, appear ; 
 
 Let them, with songs — with sweetest notes, draw near* 
 
 No dwellers of the misty valley come. — 
 
 No hunter known-not at his streams — his home ! 
 
 -Tis one whose sounding praise has reach'd afar; 
 
 'Tis car-borne Oscar, from the fields of war ! 
 
Canto II. TEMORA. 51 
 
 Sudden thy change, my son ! from what thou wert 
 On dark Moi-lena ! Youth of fearless heart ! 
 The blast now folds thee, in its skirt, on high, 
 And, quickly, rustles through the yielding sky ! 
 Is thy sad father hidden from thy sight ? 
 Dost thou behold him, at the stream of night ? 
 Dost thou not see his swollen eyes still weep; 
 While chiefs of Morven's groves, far distant, sleep ? 
 No son they 've lost ! thus, soon, subside their griefs ! 
 But ye have lost a hero ! Selma's chiefs ! 
 Who could, with equal strength, the shock abide, 
 W T hen battle's torrent rolled against his side I 
 Why does this cloud, on Ossian's soul, appear ! 
 It ought to burn in danger ! — Erin 's near ! 
 The king of Selma is alone ;— whilst I 
 Thus drop the fruitless tear ! — and heave the sigh ! 
 Alone thou shalt not be, my father ! — No ! 
 While I can lift the spear ! — or face the foe ! 
 
 II. 
 Full arm'd, I rose. I listen'd to the wind.- — 
 No sound from youthful Filian's 2 shield, I find. 
 
52 TEMORA : Canto II. 
 
 My fears were rous'd;— a thousand thoughts assail'd. — 
 
 Have Fingal's foes approach'd ? — Has Fillan faiPd ? 
 
 Hark ! distant murmurs, wide Moi-lena, shake I 
 
 (So when the shrinking wave of Lego's lake, 
 
 With hollow crashes, bursts the ice around ; 
 
 While neighbouring hills repeat the echoing sound, 
 
 The men of Lara see the tempest near : 
 
 They know the threaten'd storm will soon appear.) 
 
 Fast, o'er the heath, my lengthen'd steps expand. 
 
 ]My fallen Oscar's spear is in my hand. 
 
 The red stars, twinkling, lent their feeble light : 
 
 With anxious heart, I gieam'd along the night. 
 
 III. 
 I saw the youthful Fillan, silent, bend 
 From Mora's rock. His watchful eyes extend. 
 The ardent warrior heard the shout of foes : 
 His martial joy ! — his panting soul arose ! 
 He heard my tread, and turn'd his lifted spear. — 
 * " Son of the night ! in peace dost thou come near ? 
 * Fillan challenges,, 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 53 
 
 If thou art Fingal's foe, my vengeance feel ! — 
 
 Speak !— quickly speak ! — or fear my trusty steel ! 
 
 Think not, great Fingal's blood I'll e'er disgrace ; 
 
 Or stand in vain the shield of Morven's race !" 
 
 * " Never, my brother, mayst thou stand in vain ! 
 
 May naught the son of blue-eyed Clatho stain ! 
 
 Though Selma's king begins to be alone : — 
 
 Though darkness gathers round the star which shone.— 4 
 
 Two 5 sons he has, who ought, in war, to blaze, 
 
 And glad, with brilliant light, his setting rays !" 
 
 IV. 
 f " O Fingal's son ! but lately has my hand 
 
 Rais'd the proud spear, or join'd the warlike band. 
 
 Few are the marks my sword has left, in fight* — 
 
 But Fillan's soul is fire ! — his heart is bright ! 
 
 The chiefs of Bolga, 4 crowding round the shield 
 
 Of generous Cathmor, shake the trembling field. 
 
 Behold ! they gather on the heath below. 
 
 Say, shall my steps approach the haughty foe? 
 
 * Ossian replies. f Filian speaks. 
 
3* TEMORA: Canto I L 
 
 To Oscar only, did my speed give place, 
 On Cona, in the hard-contested race !." 
 
 V. 
 * " Fillan ! thou shalt not, now, approach the host ; 
 Nor, fameless, fall, unknown to Selma's coast ! 
 My name is heard in song :— my deeds are known. 
 When needful I advance; — and fear disown ! 
 Rapt in the skirts of night, my steady eye 
 Shall all great Cathmor's gleaming tribes descry. 
 Why, Fillan, didst thou mention Oscar's s name ? — . 
 Why bring the tear — why Ossian's soul inflame ? 
 Until fierce battle's storm is roll'd away, 
 My thoughts must ne'er recall this fatal day i 
 In danger, sadness never ought to dwell; 
 Nor tears, in war, the hero's eye to swell ! 
 Their fallen sons, our valiant sires forgot : 
 Resounding war drown'd every gloomy thought. 
 The noise of arms, once past,— bright peace, once, come, 
 Then sorrow, soon, returned to the tomb ! 
 
 * Ossian speaks* 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 55 
 
 Then did the songs of weeping bards arise ! 
 Then did their heroes' praises reach the skies ! 
 Yes ! when wild battle's noisy tumult 's fled, 
 The soul, in melting silence, mourns the dead \ 
 
 VI. 
 Conar 6 was Trathal's brother. Great his name. 
 On every coast his glorious battles came. 
 A thousand streams roll'd down his proud foes' blood, 
 And dyed the ocean with their crimson flood. 
 His fame green Erin fiil'd, like pleasant gales. 
 And every tongue the warlike monarch hails. 
 The gathered nations, all of Selma's race, 
 In Ullin, bless'd the mighty conqueror's face I 
 
 VII. 
 The southern chiefs 7 collected in their pride. 
 To Muma's horrid cave, their steps they hied. 
 There did they, often, mix their secret words : 
 And count the numbers of their vassal hordes. 
 Thither, 'tis told, their fathers' ghosts did flock ; 
 Their pale forms shewing from the chinky rock ; 
 
S6 TEMORA t Canto II. 
 
 Said they, " shall Conar, Bolga's honour, stain ?— 
 Why should resounding MorVen's son, now, reign ?" 
 
 VIII. 
 Then forth they came.— Loud roar'd their hundred tribes \ 
 As when a mighty stream it's course describes* 
 Conar — a fearless rock ! — before them stood ; 
 Broken they roll'd, on every side, their flood ! 
 Oft' their returning waves, with fury, swell \ — 
 And, oft', the gallant sons of Selma fell ! 
 King Conar stood among his warrior's tombs. 
 While, o'er his brow, dark grief her reign assumes f 
 And, now, his wearied soul had mark'd the place 
 Where he should fall, — the boast of Selma's race ! 
 When Trathal, in his strength, his brother cheer'd: 
 From cloudy Morven's coast, the chief appear'd. 
 "Nor came the king alone ; but at his side 
 Was Colgar, 8 then, of Selma's host the pride ! 
 Colgar, white-bosom'd Solin-corma's son, 
 By car-borne Trathal. Who in battle shone. 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 57 
 
 IX. 
 
 " As Trenmor, cloth 'd with meteors, descends 
 From halls of thunder, and the dark wind bends. 
 Pouring the tempest o'er the troubled sea, 
 'Till scatter'd waves, with snowy whiteness, flee! 
 So Coigar wasted, quick, the echoing field, 
 Where e'er he bore his terror-striking shield! 
 His father view'd, with joy, the hero's fame. 
 But soon, alas ! a fatal arrow came ! 
 His silent tomb was rais'd without a tear. 
 But mighty vengeance, for his death, was near ! 
 The king rush'd forward, as the lightning gleams, 
 'Till vanquish'd Bolga yielded at her streams. 
 
 X. 
 " When gentle peace, once more, had bless'd the land: 
 When the blue wave, to Morven, bore his band. — 
 For fallen Coigar, then, his grief appears . — 
 Then, for his son, fast flow his silent tears ! 
 Thrice did the bards the soul of Coigar name: — - 
 (At Furmono's dark cave,) thrice sing his iame! 
 
 K 
 
BS TfcMORA: Canto IL 
 
 They calPd him to the hills of his proud land. 
 In his dim mist, he came, at their command. 
 Trathal, to please the spirit of his son, 
 PWd, in the cave, his sword, which glory won !" 
 
 XI. 
 " Colgar, 9 O son of Trathal !" Fillan cries, 
 " Renown'd in youth ! thy lasting praises rise! 
 But Selma's king has not, yet, mark'd my sword, 
 Bright-streaming o'er the vanquish'd flying horde I 
 Forth, with the crowd, I go, — no tongues proclaim f 
 
 My steps return, alas ! without my fame ! 
 
 But Ossian 1 — hark ! — the foe approaches near. — 
 Their swelling murmurs, on the heath, I hear.— - 
 Their echoing steps send forth a hollow sound, 
 Like thunder, in the bosom of the ground ; 
 When rocking mountains shake their groves on high ; 
 And, not a blast pours from the darken'd sky !" 
 
 XII. 
 With panting soul I turn'd upon my spear. 
 A flaming oak my hands, with speed, now rear. 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 59 
 
 On Mora's wind its blaze I largely spread. 
 
 Short, in his course, stop'd Cathmor, Erin's head. 
 
 He, gleaming stood, as if a winter rock, 
 
 Round whose damp sides the chilling breezes flock. 
 
 Which, quickly, seize its loudly echoing streams, 
 
 'Till, cloth'd with ice, it meets the noon-day beams. 
 
 So stood the stranger's friend ! IO — the sun-brigh> mind \ 
 
 His heavy locks are lifted by the wind. 
 
 O king of streamy Atha's woody land, 
 
 Thou art the tallest of green Erin's band ! 
 
 XIII. 
 " Fonar," thou first of bards!" said Cathmor, "bring 
 The chiefs of Erin, quick, to Atha's king. 
 Let red-hair'd Cormar,— Dark-brow'd Malthos, come. 
 Also, Maronnan's side-long-looking gloom. 
 And, let the pride of Foldath, now, draw nigh. 
 Likewise, Turlotho's fierce, red-rolling eye. 
 And let long-hair'd Hidalla, straight, be sought: 
 His prudent soul, with brightest wisdom 's fraught. 
 His pleasant voice, in danger, oft' he lends; 
 'Tis like a shower whose gentle sound descends ; 
 
60 TEMORA: Canto II. 
 
 When near to Atha's flowing stream it falls. 
 And verdure to the blasted vale recalls; 
 Slowly it moves its dropping clouds on high; 
 While broken thunder travels o'er the sky !" 
 
 XIV. 
 They come. In all their clanging arms, they stand : 
 And, silent, wait their valiant king's command. 
 Bent forward, wistfully his words they heard. — 
 As if a spirit of their sires appear'd, 
 And spake, with awful voice, from clouds of night, 
 So did they view the hero, in his might. 
 Dreadful they shone:— like Brumo's 12 falling stream, 
 When horrid meteors dart their transient gleam. 
 The nightly stranger stops him, in his way, 
 And, shuddering, looks up for the morning's ray 1 
 
 XV. 
 « Why," said the king, " does Foldath's* heart delight 
 To pour the blood of slumbering foes, by night ? 
 
 * From this passage, it appears, that it was Foldath who had advised 
 the night attack. The gloomy Foldath, and the open, generous Cathmer 
 are very properly contrasted with each other. 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 61 
 
 Does blushing morn his courage soo?' allay ? 
 
 Or fails his weapon in the beam of day ? 
 
 Few are our foes. — Why then our strength degrade? 
 
 Why think to clothe us in the nightly shade? 
 
 Thy counsel 's vain ! — A careful guard they keep. 
 
 You see the eyes of Morven do not sleep ! 
 
 Watchful, as eagles on their mossy rock, 
 
 Their piercing glances view each hostile shock ! 
 
 Beneath his cloud, let every chief collect 
 
 His roaring tribe; and Erin's strength connect. 
 
 When morning's light shall cheer the shady grove, 
 
 To meet the foes of Bolga's race, I move. 
 
 Mighty* was he, of Borbar-duthul's blood, 
 
 Who, on Moi-lena, pour'd his crimson flood ! 
 
 XVI. 
 f " Unmark'd, were not my steps before thy race. 
 Great Cairbar's foes, in light, did Foldath face. 
 
 * By this exclamation, Cathraor intimates, that he intends to revenge, 
 the death of his brother, Cairbar, 
 
 f Foldath speaks. 
 
62 TEMORA: Canto 1 1. 
 
 The fallen warrior, oft', my deeds has prais'd. 
 
 But, his cold stone, without a tear, was raised ! 
 
 No soft-voiced bards o'er Carbair's tomb, I3 now, sing ! 
 
 No praises glad the ghost of Erin's king ! 
 
 But, shall his foes, still, raise a cheerful voice ? — 
 
 Shall they, along their mossy hills, rejoice? 
 
 No! — He was Foldath's friend ! — they shall not joy: 
 
 Nor, unreveng'd, green Erin's king destroy ! 
 
 Our words were rais'd in Moma's silent cave, — 
 
 In secret oft' the hand to me he gave. 
 
 Whilst thou, a boy, the hovering bird's-nest view'd ; 
 
 Or, in a field, the thistle's beard pursued ! 
 
 I'll rush abroad ! — Yes, Moma's sons shall go I 
 
 And, on his dusky hills, we'll find the foe, 
 
 Fingal, without his song, shall, quickly, lie: — 
 
 No voice, o'er Selma's grey-hair'd king, shall cry !" 
 
 XVII. 
 M Then think'st thou, feeble man," — (the king replied ; 
 "While, half-enraged, the gloomy chief he eyed.) 
 * c Think'st thou, without his fame, can Fingal fall ? 
 Think'st thou no tongue his praises would recall ? 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM, €3 
 
 Could bards be silent at his moisten'd grave: 
 Could they forget that Fingal once was brave ? 
 The song would burst in secret ! — Every voice 
 The fallen king's bright spirit would rejoice ! 
 It is when thou shalt fall, without a tear, 
 That none the weeping song of bards shall hear ! 
 Dark art thou, chief of Moma ! — Though, in fight. 
 Thine arm a tempest is! — thy soul 's not bright. 
 In his cold, narrow house, do I forget 
 Green Erin's king? — Falls he without regret? 
 To Cairbar, brother of my infant love, 
 My soul 's not lost ! — my heart's best passions move! 
 When 1 return'd, with fame, to Atha's streams, 
 1 fondly markd bright joy's illuming beams, 
 Which traveli'd over Cairbar's gloomy mind ; 
 And, on his features, left their trace behind i" 
 
 XVII L 
 They heard the king. Each, to his own dark tribe, 
 With speed repair'd ; — his orders to prescribe. 
 Deep-humming, on the heath, the mingled throng, 
 Faint-glittering to the stars, slow roll'd along. 
 
64 TEMORA : Canto II. 
 
 As sombre waves, their stormy passage find, 
 
 In rocky bays, before the nightly wind. 
 
 Beneath an oak did Atha's he>o lie. 
 
 His shield, a dusky round, was hung on high. 
 
 That beam of light ! which, bright with blushes, glows— 
 
 With wandering locks — from Luman of the roes- — 
 
 The stranger fair, 14 from Inis~huna*s land, 
 
 Lean'd, 'gainst a rock, near noble Cathmor's hand. 
 
 The voice of Fonar, at a distance, rose: 
 
 His words the deeds of former days disclose, 
 
 At times the song, in Lubar's stream, is drown'd ; 
 
 At times the mellow bard's sweet notes resound. 
 
 XIX. 
 * " Crothar IS .first dwelt at Atha's mossy stream. 
 Of antient chiefs none shone with brighter beam. 
 A thousand oaks, l6 on lofty mountains, fall, 
 To form the hero's spacious, echoing hall. 
 There did the gathering people flock around : 
 There did the blua-eyed king's glad feast abound. 
 
 * Fonar, the bard of Cathmor speaks. 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 6$ 
 
 But who, amongst his crowding chiefs, was seen 
 To equal stately Crothar's noble mien ? 
 The kindled warrior in his presence glows ! 
 The youthful sigh of blooming virgins rose ! 
 Throughout Alnecma's 17 land did honour grace 
 The warlike Crothar, first of Bolga's race ! 
 
 XX. ) 
 
 u In Ullin, when the eager chase he led, — 
 As, on Drumardo's moss-cloth'd top, he sped, 
 Con-lama, Cathmin's blue-eyed daughter view'd 
 The portly Crothar, from a shady wood. 
 For him the secret sigh her bosom rent ! 
 For him her head, 'midst wand'ring ringlets, bent. 
 When night had clos'd the blushing virgin's eyes, 
 Did mighty Crothar, in her dreams, arise. 
 The moon look'd in, and saw her snow-white arms 
 Disclose the heaving bosom's panting charms ! 
 
 XXI. 
 " Three days, at Cathmin's feast, king Crothar stay'd; 
 And on the fourth, to rouse the hinds they stray'd. 
 
 L 
 
84 TEMORA : Canto IL 
 
 ' Brisk, to the chase, the fair Con-lama went I 
 With graceful air her lovely footsteps bent. 
 She meets the king — The path contracts — She stands ! 
 The bow fails quickly from her trembling hands ! 
 Blushing, she turns her blooming face away — 
 Haif-hides it with her locks, which lightly stray. 
 The chieftain stopt ! — The love of Crothar rose ! 
 Soon the white-bosom'd maid to Atha goes ! 
 And now, the song of bards, melodious, swells. 
 Joy ! — brightest joy ! round Cathmin's daughter dwell?. 
 
 XXII. 
 The wounded pride of youthful Turloch rose! 
 His thwarted hopes the fiercest rage expose ! 
 Long, the white handed maid, his heart adored ! 
 Con-lama 's lost ! — He draws the hostile sword. 
 With battle, to Alnecma's land he goes. 
 He leads his band to Atha of the roes. 
 Brave Cormul (car-borne Crothav's brother) flies. 
 To meet the strife of Turloch's raging eyes ! 
 Fearless he went ! — But soon the hero fell ! 
 Around, the sighs of Bolga's warriors swell r 
 
Canto IL AN EPIC POEM. 65 
 
 Silent and tall across the streamy land, 
 Came forth the darkening strength of Crothar's hand. 
 Quick from Alnecma Bolga's foe he rolled ! 
 Con-lama's joyful lips her lord consoled. 
 
 XXIII. 
 " Battle on battle comes. Blood flows around. 
 The tombs of warriors rise along the ground. 
 Green Erin sees her war-diminish'd hosts. 
 Her darken'd clouds are hung with gloomy ghosts ! 
 Around the echoing shield of Crothar ranged, 
 The southern chiefs their hostile vows exchanged. 
 Then quickly spread wild war's destructive flame : 
 Death, 'gainst the foe, with Crothar's footsteps, came ! 
 By Uilin's streams the gentle virgins wept : 
 They view'd the misty hills, — no hunter stept ! 
 Throughout the land a darkening silence glooms ! 
 The lonely breeze sighs o'er the grassy tombs ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 " As the proud eagle's rustling wing descends, 
 When from the heavenly blast his path he bends: 
 
66 TEMORA: Canto II. 
 
 Conar, thp son of Trenmor, widely roves, 
 
 The arm of fear ! — from Morven's hundred groves. 
 
 He pour'd his might along green Erin's land. 
 
 Death dimly strode behind the conqueror's hand I 
 
 As from a desert stream, whose bursting floods 
 
 Sweep the green fields, and all their echoing woods : 
 
 From Conar's course, the aons of Bolga fled : 
 
 While, rushing on, his warlike band he led. 
 
 Crothar 18 advanced. — His steps, to battle, hie. — 
 
 The chief he meets. — Alnecma's warriors fly ! 
 
 The king of Atha, slowly, quits the field. — 
 
 His soul is griev'd ! — alas ! his vassals yield ! 
 
 Though, in the south, again the chieftain shone; 
 
 'Twas dimly, as the rays of autumn's sun ; 
 
 When cloth'd in robes of mist he faintly beams 
 
 His feeble light, on Lara of dark streams. 
 
 The wither'd grass with moisten'd dew is clad ! — 
 
 The forest silence keeps. — The field, tho' bright, is sad," 
 
 XXV. 
 <J Why wakes the bard, before me," Cathmor said^ 
 " The darken'd memory of those who fled ? 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 67 
 
 Say, has some ghost bedeck* ;1 with sombre gear, 
 From dusky clouds, bent forward to thine ear ; 
 With dismal tales of old, to make me yield ; — 
 To frighten Cathmor from the Echoing field? 
 Dwellers of night, — who in death's vapours flee, — = 
 Your gloomy voice is but a blast to me ! 
 Which feebiy takes the weak grey thistle's head, 
 And strews its beard o'er Atha's river's bed ! 
 Within my breast (though others hear it not,) 
 The call of glory never is forgot ! 
 His soul forbids the king of Erin's land 
 To shrink from war — or shun th' uplifted hand ! 
 
 XXVL 
 The bard sunk back in night : abash'd he went ; 
 And, o'er a stream, retir'd, his head he bent. 
 His thoughts are on the days of Atha's grove, 
 When with bright joy his song did Cathmor move ! 
 The tears come rolling down his aged cheek ! 
 His pendant beard the fluttering breezes seek. 
 The slumbering tribes of Erin strew the grou.id. 
 But sleep no place on Cathmor's eye-lid found. 
 
68 TEMORA: Canto II. 
 
 He rose. He paced around the slumbering field. 
 At times he struck his loudly echoing shield. 
 The sounds (which Erin's hostile steps avow,) 
 Reach'd Ossian's ear, on Mora's mossy brow. 
 
 XXVII. 
 " Fillan !" I said, (and quickly seized my spear,) 
 The foes advance :— the shield of war I hear ! 
 But stand thou in the narrow path : — I'll go, 
 And mark the course of woody Morven's foe. 
 If, o'er my fall, the host should wing its way, 
 Then be thy buckler heard without delay. 
 Awake the king : — and let not Fingal's name 
 Yield to great Cathmor's youthful, active, fame ! 
 With eager heart and hasty steps I sped ; 
 (Wide-bounding o'er a stream's dark-winding bed, 
 Which in a field, 'fore Atha's chieftain, flow'd,) 
 Onward, in all my rattling arms, I strode. 
 With lifted spear, and great in mighty force, 
 Green Atha's king came forward, on my course : 
 And now would we have mix'd, in horrid fray, 
 (As two contending ghosts their rage display; 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC P0E1VI. 69 
 
 Who, bending forward from two clouds of night, 
 
 Send forth the roaring winds, with wild delight.) 
 
 Did not the son of Fingal's uplift eye 
 
 The helmet of green Erin's kings descry. 
 
 The eagle's wing, above it proudly spread, 
 
 In breezes rustling, graced the hero's head : 
 
 A red star, through the plumes, it's lustre show'd, 
 
 — I stopt my lifted spear. — My beating heart o'er-flow'd ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 * '« The helm of kings now glitters in my sight ! — 
 Say, who art thou, O valiant son of night ! 
 Shall Ossian's spear the flower of Atha fade ? 
 Shall it be famed when thou art lowly laid ? 
 At once he dropt his gleaming lance, — and stood, 
 Growing before me, seemed the form I view'd ! 
 With generous heart he stretch'd his hand in night : — ■ 
 You spoke the words of kings ! — O pride of Erin's mi«-ht I 
 
 XXiX. 
 f " Thou friend of heroes spirits ! do we meet — 
 In nightly shades, does Cathmor Ossian greet? 
 
 * Ossian speaks, f Cathmor speaks. 
 
70 TEMORA ? Canto II. 
 
 Oft' have I wish'd thy stately steps to come, 
 
 In days of joy, to streamy Atha's home. 
 
 Why now, when first you meet my gladden'd eyes? 
 
 Should Cathmor's spear in angry fray arise ? 
 
 The sun must see us, Ossian, when we bend 
 
 Gleaming in strife : — when we, for fame, contend. 
 
 The future warriors shall mark the place ; 
 
 And other years, with shuddering hearts, retrace! 
 
 They'll mark it, like the haunt where spectres gleam I 
 
 Pleasant and dreadful to the soul 'twill seem !" 
 
 XXX. 
 Said I, " then shall the recollection cease 
 Of that first spot on which we met in peace? 
 Why should the field where darkening warriors roll — 
 Why battles' memory, only, glad the soul? 
 Does not our glance exultingly behold 
 The festive spot our fathers hail'd of old ? 
 But when the blood-stain'd fields of war appear, 
 Our downcast eye soon shows the swelling tear ! 
 This stone shall rise; — and say to other years, 
 (When, on its side, the growing moss appears,) 
 
Canto JL AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 " Cathmor and Ossian on this spot once met: — 
 They met in peace : — they parted with regret !" 
 When thou, O stone, shalt fail, in rude decay ! 
 When Lubar's roaring stream shall roll away ! 
 Then shall the weary traveller's footsteps come, 
 (As on the heath he wanders far from home;) 
 'Till his exhausted frame with toil opprest, 
 He'll stop, perhaps, and bend him here to rest. 
 Then, while the darkened moon rolls o'er his head, 
 Our shadowy forms may visit his cold bed: 
 When fresh'ning sleep his bosom shall embrace, 
 Mixt with his dreams, we'll tell him of this place. 
 But, noble son of Borbar-duthul, I9 say, 
 Why dost thou turn thee thus so dark away?" 
 
 XXXI. 
 " Not unremember'd, son of Selma's king, 
 Shall we ascend these winds — our fame we'll bring ! 
 Our deeds are streams of light before the eyes 
 Of future bards. — Our praises will arise ! 
 But darkness, now, on Atha's groves is roll'd, — 
 The fallen king, without his song, lies cold ! 
 
 M 
 
74 TEMORA : Canto II. 
 
 Still from his stormy soul a brightening beam 
 
 Did, toward his much lov'd brother, Cathmor, gleam \ 
 
 As wben amidst the dark-red thunder's way, 
 
 The moon, through bursting clouds, emits her ray i" 
 
 XXXII. 
 " O noble son of Erin !" I replied, 
 " My wrath could ne'er in his cold earth 20 abide! 
 My hatred flies, on eagle-wing, the foe, 
 When death has clos'd his eye — has laid him low I 
 The tuneful bard, for him shall raise his voice, — 
 Cairbar shall on his whistling winds rejoice!" 
 
 XXX1IL 
 The swelling soul of Erin's chief arose. — 
 His brighten'd face once more with pleasure glows* 
 Quickly he took the dagger from his side, 
 And placed it, gleaming, in my hand, with pride ! 
 He look'd. — He sigh'd. — And silent strode away. ' 
 My lingering eyes, along his footsteps stray. — 
 He dimly gleam'd; like to a ghostly form, 
 Which meets the traveller in the nightly storm; 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 75 
 
 Along the heath's brown skirt the spright appears; 
 His words are dark, as songs of former years. 
 Then, ere the sun, with blushes, darts his ray, 
 From morning, strides th' unfinished shade away! 
 
 XXXIV. 
 *" But who art thou who thus the dawning cheers ? 
 From Lubar's misty vale, thy path appears. 
 The sparkling drops of heaven are on thy hair! — 
 Thy measur'd steps a heart of grief declare ! — 
 J Tis aged Carril — voice of other days '. 
 From Tura's silent cave he slowly strays. 
 Its darken'd fissure, in the rock, I see, 
 Through the thin folds of mist, which scattering, flee. 
 Perhaps Cuthullin sits him in the breeze, — 
 In the lone blast which bends its lofty trees. 
 /Sweet is thy voice, O bard of Erin's isle ! — 
 Pleasant thy sonnet to the morning's smile ! 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 (carril SrNGS.) 
 
 i( How fly the dark clouds when thy first rays are bending ! 
 How crowd they away from thy bright beaming eyes I 
 
76 TEMORA; Canto I L 
 
 Ah ! sad is thy beauty, O sun, when, descending, 
 
 Thou gildest the field where the cold hero lies ! 
 But pleasant thy beam to the hunter, when, lying 
 
 Beneath a high rock, where he crept from the rain, 
 He gladly beholds thee, thro' parted clouds flying; 
 
 And views die descent of the roes to the plain. 
 How long shalt thou roll, as thro' heaven thou 'rt sailing, 
 
 A shield stain'd with blood ! and in war run thy race ? 
 Alas ! how the heroes of Erin are failing! 
 
 Their cold death, dark-wand'ring, 1 see o'er thy face \ v 
 XaaVI. 
 « Why wander CarriPs accents thus," I said, 
 " Think'st thou the son of heaven mourns the dead ? 
 Behold, unstain'd, he wings his dazzling course; 
 Ever rejoicing in his fiery force ! 
 
 Roll on thou careless light ! — thou too, perhaps, must fall! 
 Perhaps, one day, thou 'It cease to gild thy hall ! 
 The darkening hour may seize thy radiant eye, 
 As, struggling hard, thou rollest through the sky ! 
 Though pleasant is the voice of Erin's bard^- 
 ( Gladly his song by Ossian's heart is heard; 
 
Canto II. AN EPIC POEM. 77 
 
 'Tis like the morning's shower that bathes the vale, 
 
 When, through grey mist, the rising sun we hail !) 
 
 This is no time, O bard ! for strife of song : 
 
 Soon shalt thou hear the fierce-contending throng ? 
 
 Fingal, in arms, now strides the echoing field : — 
 
 Yonder he moves: — thou seest his flaming shield. 
 
 He marks the crowding tribes of Erin nigh : 
 
 O'er her wide-roving host his glances fly. 
 
 Does Carril not behold that earthy tomb? 
 
 Beside the roaring stream it spreads its gloom ! 
 
 "Where the three stones their grey heads lift around, 
 
 Beneath that bending oak which shades the ground, 
 
 A king is lowly laid i— *a breathless corpse is found 1 
 
 Go ! — To his winds the restless spirit call ! — 
 
 'Tis Cathmor's brother ! — Ope his airy hall ! 
 
 Go ! — Let thy song glide through the shadowy host; — > 
 
 A stream of joy, to Cairbar's darken'd ghost !" 
 
 END OF THE SECOND CANTO, 
 
NOTES 
 
 TO THE 
 
 SECOND CANTO. 
 
 L 
 
 1 Though this Canto has little action, it is not the least 
 important part of Temora. The poet, in several episodes, 
 runs up the cause of the war to the very source. The first 
 population of Ireland, the wars between the two nations who 
 originally possessed that island, its first race of kings, and 
 the revolutions of its government, are important facts, and are 
 delivered by the poet, with so little mixture of the fabulous, 
 that one cannot help preferring his accounts to the improba- 
 ble fictions of the Scottish and Irish historians. The Milesian 
 fables bear about them the marks of a late invention. To 
 trace their legends to their source would be no difficult task, 
 but a disquisition of this sort would extend this note too far. 
 
 II. 
 
 3 We understand, from the preceding Canto, that Cath- 
 raor was near with an army. When Cairbar was killed, the 
 tribes who attended him fell back to Cathmor: who, as it af- 
 terwards appears, had taken a resolution to surprise Fingal 
 by night. Ftllan was dispatched to the hill of Mora, which 
 was in front of the Caledonians, to observe the motions of 
 
80 NOTES. Canto II. 
 
 Catfamor. In this situation were affairs when Ossian, hear- 
 ing the noise of the approaching enemy, went to find out his 
 brother. Their conversation naturally introduces the epi- 
 so'!>. concerning Conar, the son of Trenmor, the first Irish 
 monarch, which is so necessary to the undertsanding the foun- 
 dation of the rebellion and usurpation of Cairbar and Cath- 
 rnor. Fillan was the youngest son cf Fingal, then living. 
 He and Bosmina, mentioned in the battle of Lora, were the 
 only children of the king, by Clatho, the daughter of Cathul- 
 la, king of Inis-tore, whom he had taken to wife, after the 
 death of Ros-crana, the daughter of Cormac Mac-Conar, 
 king of Ireland. 
 
 III. 
 3 That is, two sons in Ireland. Fergus, the second son of 
 Fingal, was, at that time, on an expedition, which is mention- 
 ed in one of the lesser poems. He, according to some tradi- 
 tions, was the ancestor of Fergus, the son of Ere or Arcath, 
 commonly called Fergus the Second, in the Scottish histories. 
 The beginning of the reign of Fergus over the Scots, is pla- 
 ced, by the most approved annals of Scotland, in the fourth 
 year of the fifth age ; a full century after the death of Ossian. 
 The genealogy [ s thus recorded by the Highland Senachies: 
 Fergus M r ic- J ruath, Mac Chongael, Mac-Fergus, MacFion- 
 gael na bua'i ; i. e. Fergus, the son of Arcath, the son of Con- 
 gai, the son of Fergus, the son of Fingal, the victorious. This 
 subject is treated" more at large, in the dissertation annexed 
 to Macpherson's publication. 
 
Canto II. NOTES. 81 
 
 IV. 
 
 4 The southern parts of Ireland went, for some time, un- 
 der the name of Bolga, from the Firbolg, or Belgae, of Bri- 
 tain, who settled a colony there. Bolg, signifies a quiver, 
 from which proceeds Fir-bolg, i. e. bow-men ; so called from 
 their using bows more than any of the neighbouring nations. 
 
 V. 
 
 5 After this passage, Oscar is not mentioned in all Te- 
 mora. The situations of the characters who act in the poem 
 are so interesting, that others, foreign to the subject, could 
 not be introduced with any lustre. Though the episode, 
 which follows, may seem to flow naturally enough from the 
 conversation of the brothers, yet, as is shewn in a preceding 
 note, and, more at large, in the dissertation annexed to Mac- 
 pherson's collection, the poet had a farther design in view. 
 
 VI. 
 
 6 Conar, the first king of Ireland, was the son of Tren- 
 mor, the great-grand-father of Fingal. It was on account of 
 this family connection, that Fingal was engaged in so many 
 wars in the cause of the race of Conar. Though few of the 
 actions of Trenmor are mentioned, he was the most renown- 
 ed name of antiquity. The most probable opinion concerning 
 him is, that he was the first who united the tribes of the Ca- 
 ledonians, and commanded them, in chief, against the incur- 
 sions of the Romans. The genealogists of the North, have 
 traced his family far back, and given a list of his ancestors to 
 Cuan mor nan Ian, of Conmor of the swords, who, according 
 
 N 
 
g2 NOTES. Canto 11. 
 
 to them, was the first who crossed the great sea, to Caledo- 
 nia, from which circumstance his name proceeded, which 
 signifies Great Ocean. Genealogies of so ancient a date* 
 are, however* little to be depended upon. 
 
 VII. 
 
 7 The chiefs of the Fir-bolg, who possessed themselves of 
 the south of Ireland, prior, perhaps, to the settlement of the 
 Cael of Caledonia, and the Hebrides, in Ulster. From the 
 sequel, it appears that the Firbolg were, by much the more 
 powerful nation ; and it is probable that the Cael must have 
 submitted to them, had they not received succours from their 
 mother-country, under the command of Trathal. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 8 Col-ger, fiercely looMng-tvarrior, Sulincorma, blue- 
 eyes. Colgar was the eldest of the sons of Trathal : 
 Comhal, who was the father of Fingal, was very young when 
 this expedition to Ireland happened. It is remarkable, that, 
 of all the ancestors of Fingal, tradition makes the least men- 
 tion of Comhal ; which probably proceeded from the unfor- 
 tunate life, and untimely death of that hero. From some pas- 
 sages, concerning him, we learn, indeed, that he was brave, 
 but wanted conduct. 
 
 XL 
 9 The poem begins here to mark strongly the character of 
 Fillan, who is to make so great a figure in the sequel. He has 
 the impatience, the ambition, and the fire, which are peculi- 
 ar to a young hero. Kindled with the fame of Colgar, he 
 
Canto II. NOTES. 83 
 
 forgets his untimely fall. From Fillan's expressions in this 
 passage, it would seem that he was neglected by Fingal, on 
 account of his youth. 
 
 XII. 
 10 Cathmor is distinguished by this honourable title, on 
 account of his generosity to strangers, which was so great as 
 to be remarkable even in those days of hospitality. 
 
 XIII. 
 " Fonar, the man of song. Before the introduction of 
 Christianity, a name was not imposed upon any person, 'till 
 he had distinguished himself by some remarkable action, from 
 which his name should be derived. 
 
 As it is not unlikely that these pages will fall into the hands 
 of some who have not read Macpherson's translation of the 
 poems of Ossian, to whom the frequent mention of red hair, 
 dark-hair, &c. may seem not a little strange, and uncourtly ; 
 the author takes this opportunity of assuring them, that if he 
 were writing an original poem, such expressions should not 
 creep in: but, in this work, they could not have been omit- 
 ted without doing the greatest violence to the subject. Dur- 
 ing the times which this poem describes, long hair was con- 
 sidered the greatest possible ornament. And as we may sup- 
 pose it to have been displayed with no small degree of osten- 
 tation, it became a conspicuous, and, perhaps, a necessary 
 distinction, where two people happened to be of the same 
 name. It would be almost incredible to an English reader if 
 
64 NOTES. Canto II. 
 
 he were told what a number of names, in the Highlands of 
 Scotland, owe their origin to this circumstance. And he 
 can safely assert that in his own country (Ireland), to this 
 day, the same circumstance exists, to some extent, amongst 
 the native peasantry. 
 
 •' Brumo was a place of worship (Fing. Can. 6.) in Craca, 
 which is supposed to be one of the isles of Shetland. It was 
 thought that the spirits of the deceased haunted it by night, 
 which adds more terror to the description introduced here. 
 The horrid circle of Brumo> tvhere often, they said, the ghosts 
 of the deadhoiuled round the stone of fear. 
 
 XVL 
 
 13 To have no funeral elegy sung over his tomb, was, a- 
 mong the Celtae, reckoned the greatest misfortune that could 
 befall a man ; as his soul could not without it be admitted to 
 the airy hall of his fathers, 
 
 34 By the stranger of Inis-huna, is meant, Sul-malla, the 
 daughter of Conmor, king of Inis-huna, the ancient name of 
 that part of South Britain, which is next to the Irish coast, 
 She had followed Cathmor in disguise. Her story is related 
 at large in the fourth book. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 15 Crothar was the ancestor of Cathmor, and the first of 
 the family who had settled in Atha. It was in his time that 
 the first wars kindled between the Fir-bolg and Cae'l. The 
 
Canto Ih NOTES. 85 
 
 propriety of the episode is evident; as the contest which ori- 
 ginally arose between Crothar and Cottar, subsisted after- 
 wards between their posterity, and was the foundation of the 
 story of the poem. 
 
 16 From this circumstance, we may learn, that the art of 
 building with stone was not known in Ireland ^o eariy as the 
 days of Crothar. When the colony were long settled in the 
 country, the arts of civil life began to increase among them : 
 for we find mention made of the towers of Atha, in the time 
 of Cathmor, which could not well be applied to wooden build- 
 ings. In Caledonia they began very early to build with stone. 
 None of the houses of Fingal, excepting Ti-foirmal, were of 
 wood. Ti foirmal was the great hall where the bards met to 
 repeat their compositions, annually, before they submitted 
 them to the judgment of the king in Selma. By some acci- 
 dent or other, this wooden house happened to be burnt, and 
 an ancient bard, in the character of Ossian, has left us a cu- 
 rious catalogue of the furniture which it contained. The 
 peom (says Macpherson,) is not now in my hands, otherwise 
 I would lay here a translation of it before the reader. It has 
 little poetical merit ; and evidently bears the marks of a later 
 period. 
 
 17 Alnacraa, or Alnecmacht, was the ancient name of Con- 
 naught. Ullin is still the Irish name of the province of Ul- 
 ster. To avoid the multiplying of notes, I shall here give the 
 
m NOTES. Canto IL 
 
 signification of the names in this episode. Drumardo, high 
 ridge. Cathmin, calm in battle. Con-lamha, soft hand. Tur- 
 loch, man of the quiver. Cormul, blue eyes. 
 XXIV. 
 
 18 The delicacy here, with regard to Crothar, is proper. 
 As he was the ancestor of Cathmor, to whom the episode is 
 addressed. The bard softens his defeat, by only mentioning, 
 that his people fled. Cathmor took the song of Fonar in an 
 unfavourable light. The bards being in the order of the 
 Druids, who pretended to a foreknowledge of events, were 
 supposed to have some supernatural prescience of futurity. 
 The king thought, that the choice of Fonar's song proceeded 
 from his foreseeing the unfortunate issue of the war ; and that 
 his own fate was shadowed out, in that of his ancestor Crothar. 
 The attitude of the bard, after the reprimand of his patron, is 
 picturesque and affecting. We admire the speech of Cathmor, 
 but lament the effect it has on the feeling soul of the good old 
 poet. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 19 Borbar-duthul, the surly warrior of the dark-brown eyes. 
 
 That his name suited well with his character, we may easily 
 
 conceive from the story delivered concerning him, by Malthos, 
 
 toward the end of the Sixth Canto. He was the brother of 
 
 Colcuila, who is mentioned in the episode which begins the 
 
 Fourth Canto. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 30 This reply abounds with the aentiments of a noble mind. 
 
Canto II. NOTES. S7 
 
 Though of all men living, he was the most injured by Cair- 
 bar, yet he lays aside his rage as the foe was low. How dif- 
 ferent is this from the behaviour of the heroes of other ancient 
 poems ? Cynthius aurem vellit. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 21 The morning of the second day from the opening of 
 the poem, comes on. After the death of Cuthullin, Carril, 
 the son of Kinfena, his bard, retired to the cave of Tura, 
 which was in the neighbourhood of Moi lena, the scene of 
 the poem of Temora. His causal appearance here, enables 
 Ossian, immediately, to fulfil the promise he had made to 
 Cathmor, of causing the funeral song to be pronounced over 
 the tomb of Cairbar. This book takes up only the space of 
 a few hours. 
 
TEMORA : 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
TEMORA: 
 
 AN EPIC POEM, 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 Morning coming on. Fingal, after a speech to his people, devolves tht 
 command on Gaul, the son of Morni ; it being the custom of the times 
 that the king should not engage, 'till the necessity of affairs required his 
 superior valour and conduct. The king and Ossian retire to the rock 
 of Cormul, which overlooked the field of battle. The hards sing the war- 
 song. The general conflict is described. Gaul, the son of Morni, dis« 
 tinguishes himself; kills Tuvlathon, chief of Moruth, and other chiefs 
 of lesser name. On the other hand, Foldath, whd commanded the Irish 
 army, (for Cathmor, after the example of Fingal, kept himself from 
 battle,) fights gallantly ; kills Conital, chief of Dunlora, and advances 
 to engage Gaul himself. Gaul, in the mean time, being wounded in 
 the hand, by a random arrow, is covered by Fillan, the son of FingaL 
 who performs prodigies of valour. Night comes on. The born of Fin* 
 gal recalls his army. The bards meet them with a congratulatory song, 
 in which the praises of Gaul and Fillan are particularly celebrated Th« 
 O 
 
SO A R G UMENT. Canto lit 
 
 chiefs sit down at a feast ; Fingal misses Connal. The episode of Coa- 
 nal and Duth-caron is introduced ; which throws farther light on the 
 ancient history of Ireland. Carril is dispatched to raise the tomb of 
 Connal. The action of this book takes up the second day, from the 
 opening of the poem. 
 
 I. 
 
 Who see we there, at Lubar's azure streams ? 
 Nigh to the bending hill of roes he gleams. 
 Tall, how he leans him on a rugged oak, 
 From the steep brow, by nightly tempests, broke. 
 Who but great Fingal S — ComhaFs mighty son \ 
 Powerful in age, and bright with glory won ! 
 His loose grey locks, in morning breezes flee. 
 The sword of Luno, half-unsheath'd, we see \ 
 Now to Moi-lena turn his piercing eyes ; 
 He the dark-moving of the foe descries* 
 
Canto III, TEMORA. 91 
 
 Dost thou not hear the king?— his voice of might, 
 Through Selma's listening host, now wings its flight. 
 Like when the desert's bursting torrents run, 
 'Twixt echoing rocks, to fields parch'd by the sun ! 
 
 II. 
 * " Wide-skirted comes the foe ! To strife he flies ! 
 Rise, valiant sons of woody Selma, rise ! 
 Be like the rocks of our proud native land ; 
 On whose brown sides the rolling streams expand. 
 A beam of joy my brightening soul now cheers ! 
 Mighty in force the rustling foe appears. 
 'Tis when the foe is feeble, Fingal grieves. 
 'Tis then the wondering crowd his sigh perceives ; 
 Lest death should dimly come, without renown ; 
 And darkness dwell around his fameless tomb ! 
 Who shall the fight against Alnecma lead ? — 
 Who shall proud Morven's warlike host precede ? 
 My sword ne'er shines but when much danger grows.— 
 'Till stormy battle's fiercest raging glows ! 
 Great Trenmor, ruler of the winds, did so ! — 
 And thus blue-shielded Trathal met the foe 1*1 
 
 , • Fingal speaks. 
 
92 TEMOKAj Canto III. 
 
 III. 
 
 The chiefs bend toward the king. Each darkly seemt 
 
 To claim the war; — with emulation teams ! 
 
 They tell, by halves, their glorious deeds of might: 
 
 They turn their eyes on Erin, with delight ! 
 
 But, far before the rest, stands Morni's son : — 
 
 Silent he stands ! — though fame around him shone! 
 
 His conscious glance of dignity appear'd : 
 
 For who had not of Gaul's great battles heard ? 
 
 Within his soul they rose ! — His bosom swell'd ! 
 
 With heedless grasp his trusty sword he held. 
 
 That sword which he had brought from 1 Strumon's land* 
 
 When death had chill'd the strength of Morni's hand ! 
 
 IV. 
 Fillan of Selmo Meaning on his spear, 
 With wandering locks, to Fingal lent an ear, 
 Thrice did he raise to Selma's king his eyes ;— « 
 Thrice his voice fails him, as to speak he tries I 
 My brother could not boast of battles gain'd : 
 Abash'd he strides away :— his soul is pain'd ! 
 Bent o'er a distant stream the warrior stands. 
 The tear hangs in his eye !— He folds his hands. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 98 
 
 He strikes at times, as if his thoughts to cheer, 
 The thistle's head with his inverted spear. 
 Nor is his son unmark'd by Fingal's eye; — ■ 
 Its side-long glances soon the youth descry. 
 "With bursting joy the hero he beholds: — 
 A thousand hopes his crowded soul unfolds. 
 In silence turns the king toward Mora's wood: 
 Heedless of aught but Clatho's son he stood. 
 With his grey locks the big salt tear he hides. 
 At length that voice is heard, which Morven guides ! 
 (i First of the sons of Morni ! — fearless rock ! — 
 That bold defies the storm's impetuous shock, 
 Lead thou my fight for low-laid Cor mac's race: 
 Thine arm of might to danger ne'er gives place i - 
 No boy's staff is thy spear ! nor vain thy word, 
 No harmless beam of light thy flaming sword ! 
 O son of Morni's steeds, behold the foe ! 
 Arise ! — Destroy !— Proud Erin sink in woe ! 
 Fillan observe the chief ! Not tame his might : 
 Nor burns he heedless in the stormy fight, 
 
94 TEMORA: Onto III. 
 
 llj son observe the chief 1 As Lub: d he *s strong; 
 
 But never foams and roars amid the tkn 
 ffliga] shall stand on clone; Mon^s height, 
 
 It! 
 * Oat . beside thy father, s:: 
 
 N gh where the felling stream unites its spny. 
 G fc ; . : ; ; I e-song resound ! 
 
 O Selma! jlz e waiiike sound. 
 
 I: .- ::;• ::..: z:-'.i. L;: 
 Bra e sons of Horves dothc :: ufa* ritfc '.:_>. 
 
 V. 
 _ ■■..'.; sodden burstirr z-; 
 
 Or distanf i :"ung of the troubled seas, 
 
 widi vengeful smile, 
 Heaves the rough s o'er 3 r: . — 
 
 An isle on whose moist sides the foam appears, — 
 rf mist for many dark-brown j 
 _ . is the sound of Selma's hcs:. 
 : Leg o'er the r Erie's coast. 
 
 ■ bemg sent to Moreen with die body of Oscar, Own attcadb 
 
 in quality of chief bard. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 95 
 
 Gaul is before them : tall the warrior glides. 
 The flowing streamlets glitter 'twixt his strides. 
 The bards, on either side, now raise the song. 
 He strikes his shield between. They move along. 
 On skirts of blasts their tuneful voices rise : 
 The song of battle meets the lofty skies ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 (bauds' song.) 
 
 " On Crona burst a nightly stream. 
 Its dark course swell'd 'till morning's beam, 
 "White from the hill the torrent roves, 
 With rocks, and all their hundred groves ! 
 Far be my steps from Crona now ; 
 Death tumbles down her rugged brow ! 
 Be ye a stream from Mora's height, 
 O sons of cloudy Morven's might ! 
 
 VII. 
 " What car-borne chief doth Clutha see ! — 
 Before the king the mountains flee ! — 
 
S6 TEMORA: Canto III. 
 
 The darken'd woods the echo feel ; — 
 And lighten at his dreadful steel ! — 
 See him amidst the haughty foes ! — 
 Like Colgach's 3 sportful ghost he flows : — • 
 "When scatter'd clouds he leaves behind, 
 And rides upon the eddying wind ! 
 Morni,* of bounding steeds, we call! 
 Be like thy father's might, O Gaul I 
 
 VIII. 
 Selma's hall is open'd wide. 
 Bards take the trembling harps with pride. 
 Ten ruddy youths the oaks now bear. — 
 Oaks for the feast, which drowns all care! 
 A distant sun-beam marks the hill; 
 It sparkles o'er the streaming rill. 
 The dusky waves of breezes fly, — 
 Over the fields of grass they hie. 
 
 * The expedition of Morni to Clutha, alluded to here, is handed 
 down by tradition. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 97 
 
 O Selma dost thou silence keep ! 
 The king returns with all his fame. 
 
 Was not the battle's roaring deep ? 
 Yet mild, though brave, his brow became :-^- 
 It roar'd, and Fingal overcame ! 
 O Fillan, pride of Morven's host, 
 Be like thy father— Selma's boast V 7 
 IX. 
 They move amid the song : their arms inclin'd, 
 Like rushy fields beneath Autumnal wind. 
 On Mora stands the king, in armour bright ; 
 Mist round his buckler wings its vapoury flight, 
 As up aloft he hung it, on a bough, 
 On CormuFs mossy rock, nigh Mora's brow. 
 In panting silence I by Fingal stood : 
 And turn'd my eyes on Cromla's* shady wood : 
 Lest Ossian's glances o'er the host should roll, 
 And he should rush amid his swelling soul. 
 P 
 
 * The mountain of Cromla, was in the neighbourhood of the scene of 
 (this poem ; which was nearly the same with that of FingaL 
 
98 TEMORA: Canto III. 
 
 My foot is forward on the dusky heath ; 
 
 While hostile murmurs shake the plain beneath. 
 
 I glitter, tall, in steel : and sparkling seem, 
 
 Like to the wave of Tromo's falling stream, 
 
 Which nightly winds bind o'er with icy bands, 
 
 'Till like a rock its solid surface stands ! 
 
 The boy who sees it, from the mountain's side, 
 
 When, gleaming bright, the early sun-beams glide 3 
 
 Toward it he turns his ear, — his breath supprest, 
 
 And wonders why its silent waters rest ! 
 
 X 
 Nor o'er a stream do we great Cathmor find, 
 Like to a youth in peaceful fields reclin'd. — 
 Wide forward on the plain the war he drew, 
 A dark and troubled wave to Selma's view. 
 But when, on Mora, Fingal he espied, 
 His generous pride arose : — he nobly cried ; 
 w Shall Atha's chief display his warlike shield, 
 And fight, whilst Morven's king avoids the field ?. 
 Foldath ! thy spirit martial deeds inspire ; 
 My people lead : — thou art a beam of fire I" 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 99 
 
 XL 
 
 Foldath of Moma issues 'fore the hosts, 
 Like a dark cloud, the gloomy robe of ghosts ! 
 Quick from his side the flaming sword he drew : — 
 He bade the battle move. His glances wildly flew ! 
 The tribes, like ridgy waves obscure the ground, 
 And darkly pour their echoing strength around. 
 Haughty before them is his lengthy stride. — 
 His red-eye rolls in wrath ! — It darts forth pride! 
 Cormul he calls : — 4 Dunratho's chieftain stands : 
 And Erin's leader thus gives his commands. 
 
 XII. 
 Cormul, thou seest that path. Behind the foe 
 It greenly winds. Along it promptly go. 
 Place there thy people : lest proud Selma's horde 
 Should 'scape the wrath of Foldath's vengeful sword. 
 Bards of green-vallied Erin ! raise no song — 
 Let not your voice arise amid the throng. 
 The sons of Morven without fame must fall. — 
 They 're Cairbar's foes ! — None shall their praise recall I 
 
100 TEMORA ■: Ctmto HL 
 
 Hereafter shall the frighten'd traveller meet 
 Their dark thick mists, while they on Lena fleet. 
 There shall they wander, with their ghostly forms, 
 Beside the reedy lake, in nightly storms. 
 Without their song ! they never shall arise 
 To dwell in winds- — to scour the lofty skies !" 
 
 XIII. 
 Quick Cormul sped. Behind him rush'd his tribe? 
 With hasty steps along the heath they glide. 
 Now, from the sight retiring, dark they wane. 
 They sink behind the rock— and quit the plain. 
 Nor was Dunratho's dark-eyed chief unview'd 
 By watchful Gaul : his eye their course pursu'd. 
 He spoke to Fillan. — " Pride of Selma's land i 
 Beholdest thou the steps of GormuJ's band ? 
 Strong be thine arm !■ — Thou son of Fingal go I 
 Remember Gaul in war, when he is low. 
 Here fall I forward, mid the ridge of shields, 
 With Morven's host, which ne'er to danger viekkt 
 Death rush before thee!" * * * 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM* 101 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The sign of death ascends : — the dreadful sound 
 Of Morni's shield deep-shakes the trembling ground ! 
 Gaul pours his voice between : — he onward flies* 
 From Mora's top spread Fingal's wistful eyes. 
 He sees them now from wing to wing extend : — 
 At once, in furious strife — in battle bend ! 
 Cathmor of streamy Atha, gleaming, stood ; 
 And from his own dark hill the combat view'd* 
 The kings were like two sprights of heaven, who stand* 
 Each on his gloomy cloud, and shade the land : 
 When from their horrid grasp the loud winds flee, 
 And raging tempests lift the roaring sea ! 
 Blue-tumbling waves before them proudly foam, 
 Mark'd by the paths of whales that hideous roam. 
 But they themselves are calm 'midst nature's shocks : 
 Scarce does the gale disturb their misty locks I 
 
 XV. 
 What beam of light hangs high in quivering air ? 
 What beam but Morni's sword, for slaughter bare ! 
 
102 TEMORA: Canto III. 
 
 Death strews thy path, O Gaul ! — Like heaven's blue fire, 
 
 Thou foldest them together, in thine ire ! 
 
 As a young oak, Turlathon* falls — he dies ! 
 
 See, with his branches round him, how he lies ! 
 
 His spouse, high-bosom'd, stretches her white arms — 
 
 And dreams she greets him, safe from war's alarms i 
 
 It is his ghost, Oichoma — his dim shade ! 
 
 Thy hero 's cold ! — Thy chief is lowly laid ! 
 
 Nay, hearken not unto the whistling wind — 
 
 Turlathon's echoing shield is far behind ! 
 
 Ne'er shall its clang thy lord's advance foresay ! 
 
 Pierc'd by his streams — its sound is past away ! 
 
 XVI. 
 Not tame, or peaceful, Foldath's weapon stood. — 
 He rushes on — he winds his course in blood ! 
 Brave Connal met him in the raging fight — 
 They mix'd their clanging steel ; they pour'd their might I 
 
 * Turlathon, broad trunk of a tree. Moruth, great stream. Oichaoma, 
 mild maid. Dun-lora, the hill of the noisy stream. Duthcaron, dark' 
 brown man. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 10$ 
 
 Why should mine eyes behold their horrid fray ! 
 
 Connal, thine arm is weak — thy locks are grey ! 
 
 Thou wert the strangers' friend : — their steps did flock 
 
 Around thy mansion, at Dun-lora's rock. 
 
 There, when the skies in darkening shades were roll'd, 
 
 Thy feast was spread — their weary hearts consol'd! 
 
 Rejoicing round thy burning oak's bright flame, 
 
 They heard the winds, without, their rage proclaim. 
 
 Duthcaron's son ! "Why art thou laid in blood ! 
 
 Thy heart's stream mingles with the passing flood ! 
 
 The blasted tree bends o'er thy glossy eye ! 
 
 Those limbs that mock'd the hind ! now nerveless lie ! 
 
 Thy fractur'd buckler rests upon the ground : — 
 
 Thou breaker of the shields ! — 'twill ne'er again resound ! 
 
 XVII. 
 I took my spear, by angry wrath inspired. 
 But Gaul on Foldath rush'd — with vengeance fired. 
 The feeble by him glide ! his rage is turn'd 
 On Moma's chief. — His eye with fury burn'd ! 
 Now had they rais'd their deathful spears' dread flame i 
 Unseen — with fatal haste — an arrow came. 
 
104 TEMORA : Canto III. 
 
 It pierced the hand of Gaul. With clanging sound 
 
 His trusty steel fell trembling to the ground. 
 
 Young Fillan 5 quickly fled to his relief: 
 
 With Cormurs shield he screen'd the wounded chief. 
 
 Foldath now sends his savage shouts around: 
 
 The echoing hills and kindled field resound ! 
 
 As when a blast, with fearful bursting, roves, 
 
 And lifts the wide-wing'd flame o'er *Lumon's groves 1 
 
 XVIII. 
 " O son of blue-eyed Clatho !" — Gaul now cries, 
 " Fillan ! a beam thou art from heaven's bright skies ! 
 That, proudly glancing on the troubled deep, 
 Binds up the tempest's wing in peaceful sleep ! 
 Before thee Cormul fell. — Thine early fame 
 Now emulates thy noble fathers' name ! 
 Rush not too far, my hero ! in the fight : 
 I cannot lift the spear to aid thy might. 
 Harmless amid the battle's foam I stand. — 
 But yet the voice of Gaul can still command ! 
 
 f Lumon, bending kill : a mountain in Inis-huna, or that part of South 
 Britain, which is over-against the Irish coast. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 105 
 
 The gallant sons of Selma's groves shall hear — 
 Think on my former deeds — and banish fear." 
 
 XIX. 
 His terror-bringing voice on winds arose.-^ 
 The host, bent forward, in fierce combat glows. 
 Oft' had they heard him, when, on Strumon's land, 
 To chase the hinds he call'd his agile band. 
 Tall mid the war, the hero we descry, 
 Like to an oak, in skirts of storm, on high ; 
 Whose boughs, at times, in clouds of mist are spread, 
 At times it shows its broad green-waving head. 
 The musing hunter lifts his watchful eye — 
 From his own rushy field his glances fly. 
 
 XX. 
 My soul pursues thee, Fillan ! through the host : 
 Fame strews thy path ! — of thee might Selma boast. 
 Strong rolled'st thou the foe before thy band : 
 Foldath, perhaps, may shun thy deadly hand. 
 But night comes on — her darkening vapours fly. 
 And Cathmor's echoing horn resounds on high. 
 2 
 
106 TEMORA; Canto III. 
 
 The sons of Selma also hear their king; 
 From Mora's gather'd mist his accents ring. 
 The bards diffuse, like dropping dew, their song, 
 On the returning war — the valiant throng ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 CONGRATULATORY SONG. 
 
 " Say, who is this from Strumon roams?— 
 
 Amid her wandering locks, she hies. 
 With mournful air the fair-one comes; 
 
 And lifts toward Erin her blue-eyes. 
 Why, Evircoma, * art thou sad ? 
 
 Who *s like thy chief? — Bis praise is loud ! 
 To strife he went, with terror clad. — 
 
 He comes, like sun-beams from a cloud [ 
 Thy hero's looks the foe appal : 
 They shrink before blue-shielded Gaul ! 
 
 * Evir-choama, mild and stately maid, the wife of Gaul. She wa* 
 the daughter of Casdu-conglass, chief of I-dronlo, one of the Hebrides. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 107 
 
 XXII. 
 
 •* Joy, like the rustling gale of spring, 
 O'er-spreads the soul of Selma's king. 
 He views the days with glory fraught, — 
 The days wherein his fathers fought, — 
 The battles which their might had won, 
 As he beholds his matchless son. 
 Like heaven's dear beam, rejoicing bright, 
 When from a cloud he wings his flight, 
 And round a tree his light is spread, 
 "Which shakes on heath its lonely head, — 
 Extatic joy, o'er Fingal flies, — 
 While blue-eyed Clatho's son he eyes ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 " As rolling thunder, on a hill, 
 When Lara's fields are dark and still, 
 The steps of Selma's host draw near; — 
 Pleasant and dreadful to the ear. 
 They now return from battle's shock ; 
 Like eagles to their dark-brown rock, 
 
108 TEMORA: Canto III. 
 
 When 'mid their talons are intwin'd 
 The dun sons of the bounding hind. 
 Glad, from their clouds, your sires expand, 
 O sons of streamy Selma's land !" 
 
 XXIV. 
 Thus did the voice of Selma's bards resound 
 As night, on Mora, robed the moss-cloth'd ground. 
 The flames around an hundred oak-trees creep, 
 Which winds had torn from Cormul's rocky steep. 
 Now, in the midst, the cheering feast is laid : 
 Gleaming around, the chiefs sat on the glade. 
 The son of Comhal * in his strength is there. 
 His helmet's eagle-wing 6 sounds high in air. 
 The western blasts, with rustling force, take flight ; 
 And, whistling, rush unequal through the night : 
 Long looks the king around, in silent grief; 
 At length his words are heard. Thus spoke the chief* 
 
 XXV. 
 " My soul now feels a want, — though joy extend^. 
 Yes ! I behold a breach among my friends. 
 
 • Fingal. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 109 
 
 Beneath the storm a mighty tree is low. 
 The squally winds on weeping Selma blow. 
 Where is Dunlora's chief? — I see him not. — i 
 Ought Connal, at the feast, to be forgot ? 
 When, in the midst of his proud echoing hall, 
 Did he neglect the stranger-guest to call ? 
 No longer need my anxious heart explore — 
 Your silence shows that Connal is no more ! 
 Joy meet thee warrior ! like a stream of light — 
 Swift to thy fathers' roaring winds thy flight ! 
 Ossian, thy soul is fire : my past days bring — 
 Kindle the memory of your aged king. 
 Awake the battles in which Connal shone, 
 When first, with youthful strength, his wars begun. 
 Bright did his locks, with snowy whiteness shine. 
 His days of blooming youth 7 were mix'd with mine. 
 Duth-caron in one day first strung our bows ; 
 When we essay'd against Dun-lora's roes." 
 
 XXVI. 
 « *Oft' did our paths to Erin's battles come :— 
 Qft' in her bright-green valleys did we roam, 
 * Ossian speaks. 
 
110 TEMORA: Canto III. 
 
 On? did our sails the roaring tempests meet- 
 Oft' did our ships o'er raging billows fleet. 
 To aid the race of Conar, oft' we came, 
 In other days, now brightly sung by fame ! 
 Alnecma, once, the fiery war deplor'd : 
 Strife, at Duth-ula's* foam-cloth'd waters, roar'd. 
 From cloudy Selma great Duthcaron sped : 
 With Cormac join'd, the bloody fight he led. 
 The long-hair'd youth, with his brave sire, appear'd — 
 Young Connal's hand his first proud spear then rear'd. 
 O Fingal ! thou the heroes didst command,f 
 To aid the king of green-valed Erin's land. 
 
 XXVII. 
 €t Loud as the bursting strength of ocean's roar, 
 The stormy sons of Bolga rush'd to war. 
 Blue-streaming Atha's chief— Colculla's 8 hand — 
 Then led the strife of Bolga's furious band. 
 
 * Duth-ula, a river in Connaught ; it signifies dark-rushing water. 
 
 . \ That is, it was by Fingal's order the expedition was undertaken. He 
 did not command in person, 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. Ill 
 
 On the green plain was mix'd the deadly fight. 
 Brave Cormac 9 shone in all his fathers' might ! 
 But, far before the rest, Duthcaron hew'd — 
 The blood-moist ground with foes he widely strew'd. 
 Nor harmless did the youthful Connal glide — 
 His trusty weapon slept not by his side. 
 Colc-ulla's vassals on the plain prevaiPd : 
 Like scatter'd mist the ranks of Cormac 10 faiPd. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 " Then did Duthcaron's sword his prowess show : 
 Then did broad-shielded Connal's bright steel glow ! 
 They shade their flying friends, like two proud rocks, 
 Whose heads of pine withstand the tempest's shocks ! 
 The sun's bright rays to sable night now yield : 
 In gloom, the chiefs stride silent o'er the field. 
 A mountain-torrent roar'd across the ground, 
 Nor could Duthcaron o'er its deep course bound. 
 " Why stands my father ?" (said young Connal) " Go — 
 — Pray, quick proceed — I hear the rushing foe !" 
 
1 12 TEMORA : Canto III. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Connal \" he said, " now fly with all thy might : — 
 
 Thy languid sire comes wounded from the fight. 
 
 My strength begins to fail : — here let me rest in night !" 
 
 " Nay ! but thou shalt not here remain alone." — 
 
 (Said Connal's bursting sigh) — thou hast a son ! 
 
 The shield of Connal is an eagle's wing, 
 
 To screen the head of great Dunlora's king !" 
 
 Now o'er his bleeding father dark he bends ! 
 
 Duthcaron dies ! — his parting soul ascends. 
 
 XXX. 
 " Day rose, and night return'd with darkening shade. 
 No lonely bard appear'd along the glade. 
 Yet would not Connal quit his father's tomb, 
 'Till fame should cheer the wandering spirit's gloom. 
 Against Duth-ula's roes he bent his bow : 
 He spread the lonely feast — the feast of woe ! 
 For seven long nights he on the cold grave lies. — 
 Oft' does Duthcaron in his dreams arise. 
 He saw him rolling, dark, in vapoury blast, 
 Like reedy Lego's lake with mist o'er- cast. 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 113 
 
 At length the welcome steps of Colgan " came : — 
 The bard of high Temora sung his fame. — 
 Duthcaron's praise in brilliant measures glows : 
 On listening winds he brighten'd as he rose." 
 
 XXXI. 
 " Pleasant, my son," said Fingal, " is the sound — 
 Glad to the ear, the fame of kings renown'd : 
 When hostile ranks their nervous bows have felt : — 
 When, with the sad, their soften'd bosoms melt ! 
 Thus let my name in loud encomiums roll, 
 When weeping bards shall light my rising soul. 
 Carril, — Kinfena's son ! amid the gloom, 
 Go, take the bards, and straightway raise a tomb. 
 Within his narrow house let Connal dwell. 
 To-night, his fame — his praises loudly swell ! 
 Let not the valiant soul on breezes stray ; 
 But, meet its fathers, lucid as the day ! 
 The moon's faint glimmer, on Moi-lena gleams : — 
 Through mountain-groves she steals her pallid beams. 
 Raise stones, beneath her mild — her soothing light, 
 To all my heroes who have fallen in fight, 
 it 
 
1 14 TEMOR A r Canto III. 
 
 Though they no chieftains were — their gallant heart* 
 Oft' faced, with fearless rage, the flying darts. 
 They were my rock, when danger round me shed — 
 The hill from which my eagle-wings I spread. 
 Yes ! thence am I renown'd — -my triumphs glow. 
 Carril, my bard, forget thou not the low \" 
 
 XXXII. 
 Loud, from the hundred bards, the tomb- song rose: 
 Plaintive their notes, and sweetly swell their woes ! 
 Carril, before them, slowly led the way :— 
 Like murmuring streams, behind his steps they stray. 
 Silence throughout Moi-lena's valleys reigns : 
 The wandering rills scarce whisper o'er her plains. 
 I heard the voice of bards' melodious song, 
 Wane on the breezes, as they moved along. 
 Forward I bent me, on my bossy shield ; 
 And felt my kindling soul to sorrow yield. 
 My half-form'd song burst forth upon the wind. 
 The trickling tears my moisten'd cheeks entwin'd. 
 Thus, when returning spring the valley cheers, 
 The listening tree its glowing accents hears : 
 
Canto III. AN EPIC POEM. 115 
 
 Now, to the sun, its young green leaves it pours : — 
 And shakes its lonely head in gentle showers. 
 The mountain-bee loud hums beneath its shade.: 
 The joyful hunter sees it from the glade. 
 
 XXXII L 
 Young Fillan, silent, at a distance, stood : 
 His helmet, glittering on the ground, he view'd. 
 Loose to the blast his dark-brown locks flow wild. 
 A beam of light is Clatho's peerless child ! 
 Great Fingal spoke. — The king's words reach'd his ear. 
 With joy the youth lean'd forward on his spear. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 " Fillan," said he, " thy deeds have reach'd my eyes. 
 My soul was glad — I felt my pride arise. 
 Once more my heart beheld our fathers' fame, 
 Burst, from its gathering cloud, with splendid flame. 
 Fearless and brave art thou, O Clatho's son ! 
 But headlong, in the strife, thy footsteps run. 
 Fingal's advance, in battle, was not so ; — 
 Although his heart-blood never fear'd a foe ! 
 
116 TEMORA: Canto III. 
 
 Nay, let thy people be a ridge behind : 
 They are thy strength — for thy support combin'd. 
 Then, long shalt thou, 'mid glory, wing thy way : 
 And see the aged sink, with fluttering ray ! 
 Now to my mind my former might appears, 
 The memory of my deeds in other years : 
 When first, with brow elate, and youthful smile, 
 I stept, from ocean, on the green-valed isle." 
 
 XXXV. 
 Toward FingaPs voice we all in silence bend. 
 While, from her cloud, the moon's glad beams descend. 
 Around our tribes grey-skirted mist is spread : 
 The airy dwelling of the sable d:^d ! 
 
 END OF THE THIRD CANTO. 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES 
 
 THIRD CANTO. 
 
 III. 
 
 1 Strumon, stream of the hill, the name of the seat of 
 the family of Gaul, in the neighbourhood of Selma. During 
 Gaul's expedition to Tromathon, mentioned in the poem of 
 Oithona, Morni, his father, died. Morni ordered the svoord 
 of Strumon, (which had been preserved, in the family, as a 
 relique, from the days of Colgach, the most renowned of his 
 ancestors,) to be laid by his side, in the tomb: at the same 
 time, leaving it in charge to his son not to take it from thence, 
 'till he was reduced to the last extremity, Not long after, 
 two of his brothers being slain in baitle, by Coldaronnan, 
 chief of Clutha, Gaul went to his father's tomb to take the 
 sword. His address to the spirit of the deceased hero, is the 
 subject of the following short poem. 
 
 Gaul. *' Breaker of echoing shields, whose head is deep 
 in shades ; hear me from the darkness of Clora, O son of Col- 
 gach, hear! 
 
 " No rustling, like the eagle's wing, comes over the course 
 
120 NOTES. Canto III. 
 
 of my streams. Deep-bosomed in the midst of the desert, 
 O king of Strumon, hear ! 
 
 " Dwellest thou in the shadowy breeze, that pours its dark 
 wave over the grass ? Cease to strew the beard of the thistle ; 
 O chief of Clora, hear ! 
 
 *' Or ridest thou on a beam, amidst the dark trouble of 
 clouds ? Pourest thou the loud wind on seas, to roll their 
 blue waves over isles ? hear me, father of Gaul ; amidst thy 
 terrors, hear ! 
 
 " The rustling of eagles is heard, the murmuring oaks 
 shake their heads on the hills : dreadful and pleasant is thy 
 approach, friend of the dwelling of heroes. 
 
 Morni. «' Who wakes me in the midst of my cloud, 
 where my locks of mist spread on the winds ? Mixed with 
 the noise of streams, why rises the voice of Gaul ? 
 
 Gaul. " My foes are around me, Morni : their dark 
 ships descend from their waves. Give the sword of Strumon, 
 that beam which thou hidest in thy night. 
 
 Morni. " Take the sword of resounding Strumon ; I 
 look on thy war, my son ; I look, a dim meteor, from ray 
 cloud ; blue-shielded Gaul, destroy !'• 
 
 IV. 
 
 x Clatho was the daughter of Cuthulla, king of Inistore. 
 Fingal, in one of his expeditions to that island, fell in love 
 with Clatho, and took her to wife, after the death of Roscra- 
 na, the daughter of Cormac, king of Ireland. 
 
Canto III. NOTES. 121 
 
 VII. 
 
 5 There are some traditions, but, I believe, of late inven- 
 tion, that this Colgach was the same with the Galgacus of Ta- 
 citus. He was the ancestor of Gaul, the son of Morni, and 
 appears, from some, really ancient, traditions, to have been 
 king, or Vergobret, of the Caledonians ; and hence proceed- 
 ed the pretensions of the family of Morni to the throne, which 
 created a good deal of disturbance, both to Comhal, and his 
 son Fingal. The first was killed in battle by that tribe ; and 
 it was after Fingal was grown up, that they were reduced to 
 obedience. Colgach signifiies^rce/z/ looking ; which is a very 
 proper name for a warrior, and is probably the origin of Gal- 
 gacus; though I believe it a matter of mere conjecture, that 
 the Colgach here mentioned, was the same with that hero. 
 I cannot help observing, that the song of the bards is con- 
 ducted with propriety. Gaul, whose experience might have 
 rendered his conduct cautious in war, has the example of his 
 father just rushing to battle, set before his eyes. Fillan, on 
 the other hand, whose youth might make him impetuous and 
 unguarded in action, is put in mind of the sedate and serene 
 behaviour of Fingal, upon like occasions. 
 
 XL 
 4 Dun-ratho, a hill, "with a plain on its top. Corm-uil, blue- 
 eye. Foldath dispatches Cormul, to lie in ambush behind the 
 army of the Caledonians. This speech suits with the charac- 
 ter of Foldath, which is, throughout, haughty and presump- 
 tuous. Towards the latter end of this speech, we find the 
 opinion of the times, concerning the unhappiness of the souls 
 s 
 
122 NOTES. Canto III. 
 
 of those who were buried without the funeral song. This doc- 
 trine was inculcated by the bards, to make their order re- 
 spectable and necessary. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 5 Fillan had been dispatched by Gaul to oppose Cormul, 
 who had been sent by Foldath to lie in ambush behind the 
 Caledonian army. It appears that Fillan had killed Cormul, 
 otherwise, he could not be supposed to have possessed him- 
 self of the shield of that chief. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 6 The kings of Caledonia and Ireland had a plume of 
 
 eagle's feathers, by way of ornament, in their helmets. It 
 
 was from this distinguished mark that Ossian knew Cathmor, 
 
 in the second book. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 7 After the death of Comhal, and during the usurpation 
 of the tribe of Morni, Fingal was educated in private, by 
 Duthcaron. It was then he contracted that intimacy with 
 Connal, the son of Duthcaron, which occasions his regret- 
 ting his fall so much. When Fingal was grown up, he soon 
 reduced the tribe of Morni ; and, as it appears from the fol- 
 lowing episode, sent Duthcaron and his son Connal to the 
 aid of Cormac, the son of Conar, king of Ireland, who was 
 driven to the last extremity, by the insurrections of the Fir- 
 bolg. This episode throws farther light on the contests be- 
 tween the Cael and Firbolg, 
 
Canto III. NOTES. 125 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 8 Colc-ulla, firm look in readiness : he was the brother of 
 Borbar-duthul, the father of Cairbar and Cathmor, who, af- 
 ter the death of Cormac, the son of Artho, successively 
 mounted the Irish throne. 
 
 9 Cormac, the son of Conar, the second king of Ireland, 
 of the race of the Caledonians. This insurrection of the 
 Firbolg happened towards the latter end of the long reign of 
 Cormac. He never possessed the Irish throne peaceably. 
 The party of the family of Atha had made several attempts 
 to overturn the succession of the race of Conar, before they 
 effected it, in the minority of Cormac, the son of Artho. Ire- 
 land, from the most ancient accounts concerning it, seems to 
 have been always so disturbed by domestic commotions, that 
 it is difficult to say whether it ever was, for any length of 
 time, subject to one monarch. It is certain, that every pro- 
 vince, if not every small district, had its own king. One of 
 these petty princes assumed, at times, the title of king of Ire- 
 land, and, on account of his superior force, or in cases of 
 public danger, was acknowledged by the rest as such; but the 
 succession, from father to son, does not appear to have been 
 established. It was the divisions amongst themselves, aris- 
 ing from the bad constitution of their government, that, at 
 last, subjected Ireland to a foreign yoke. 
 
 10 The inhabitants of Ullin, or Ulster, who were of the 
 race of the Caledonians, seem, alone to have been the firm 
 friends to the succession in the family of Conar. The Fir- 
 
124 NOTES. Canto IIL 
 
 bolg were only subject to them by constraint, and embraced 
 every opportunity to throw off their yoke. 
 XXX. 
 
 11 Colgan, the son of Cathmnl, was the principal bard of 
 Cormac, king Ireland. The following dialogue, on the loves 
 of Fingal and Ros-crana, may be ascribed to him. 
 
 Ros-crana. By night, came a dream to Ros-crana ! I 
 feel my beating soul. No vision of the forms of the dead 
 came to the blue eyes of Erin. But, rising from the wave of 
 the north, I beheld him bright in his locks. I beheld the son 
 of the king. My beating soul is high. I laid my head down 
 in night ; again ascended the form. Why delayest thou thy 
 coming, young rider on stormy waves ! 
 
 But, there, far distant, he comes ; where seas roll their 
 green ridges in mist ! Young dweller of my soul ; why dost 
 thou delay. 
 
 Fingal. It was the voice of Moi-lena ! the pleasant 
 breeze of the valley of roes ! But why dost thou hide thee in 
 shades ? Young love of heroes rise. Are not thy steps co- 
 vered with light ? In thy groves thou appearest, Ros-crana, 
 like the sun in the gathering of clouds. Why dost thou hide 
 thee in shades ? Young love of heroes rise. 
 
 Ros-crana. My fluttering soul is high. Let me turn 
 from the steps of the king. He has heard my secret voice, 
 and shall my blue eyes roll in his presence ? Roe of the hill 
 of moss, toward thy dwelling I move. Meet me, ye breezes 
 of Mora! as I move through the valley of winds. But why 
 
Canto II L NOTES. 125 
 
 should he ascend his ocean? Son of heroes, my soul is 
 thine ! My steps shall not move to the desert : the light of 
 Ros-crana is here. 
 
 Fingal. It was the light tread of a ghost, the fair dwel- 
 ler of eddying winds. Why deceivest thou me with thy voice ? 
 Here let me rest in shades. Shouldst thou stretch thy white 
 arm from thy grove, thou sun-beam of Cormac of Erin ! 
 
 Ros-crana. He is gone; and my blue eyes are dim; 
 faint-rolling in all my tears. But there I behold him alone ; 
 king of Selma, my soul is thine. Ah, me ! what clanging 
 of armour ! Colc-ulla of Atha is near ! 
 
TEMORA: 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
TEMORA: 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 The second night continues. Fingal relates, at the feast, his own first ex> 
 pedition to Ireland, and his marriage with Roscrana, the daughter of 
 Cormac, king of that island. The Irish chiefs convene in the presence 
 of Cathmor. The situation of the king described. The story of Sul- 
 malla, the daughter of Conmor, king of Inis-huna, who, in the disguise 
 of a young warrior, had followed Cathmor to the war. The sullen be- 
 haviour of Foldath, who had commanded in the battle of the preceding 
 day, renews the difference between him and Malthos ; but Cathmor, 
 interposing, ends it. The chiefs feast, and hear the song of Fonar the 
 bard. Cathmor retires to rest, at a distance from the army. The ghost 
 of his brother, Cairbar, appears to him in a dream ; and obscurely fore- 
 tells the issue of the war. The soliloquy of the king. He discovers 
 Sul-malla. Morning comes. Her soliloquy closes the Canto. 
 
128 TEMORA. Canto IV, 
 
 I. 
 
 * " T When Connal rose from surgy ocean's shore, 
 Duthcaron's broken spear the hero bore : 
 Beneath an oak, on Selma's rock reclin'd, 
 I sat and view'd the widely-bounding hind* 
 Far distant stood the youth, with down-cast eyes ; 
 The pangs of grief burst forth in speechless sighs ; 
 Remembrance now his heaving bosom fills; — 
 His sire's glad steps have ceas'd on his green hills I 
 I darken'd in my place : whilst o'er my soul 
 The dusky thoughts of silent sorrow roll. 
 The kings of Erin's land before me rose — 
 I half-unsheath my sword— my anger glows ! 
 Slowly npproach'd the chiefs, with uplift eyes. 
 Like ridgy clouds amid the chequer'd skies, 
 Silent, in eager pride, my words they wait, 
 With hearts intrepid, and with souls elate. 
 My voice to them was like the lightning's ray — 
 Like wind from heaven to roll the mist away i 
 
 * Fingal speaks. 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 129 
 
 II. 
 
 " I bade my white sails rise before the roar 
 
 Of Cona's wind ; and left proud Selma's shore. 
 
 Now to the bounding ships the billows yield. 
 
 Three hundred youths behold my bossy shield. 
 
 High on the mast the glitt'ring buckler hung, 
 
 And o'er the dark-blue sea its shadow flung. 
 
 But when the veil of night had spread around, 
 
 At times, I made the warning boss resound : 
 
 I struck, and look'd, with steady glance, on high, 
 
 For Ul-erin, a amid the heaving sky. 
 
 Nor absent did the star of heaven now stray, — 
 
 Between the clouds it mark'd its fiery way. 
 
 On the faint-gleaming deep, I gladly view'd 
 
 The lovely beam ; and straight my course pursued. 
 
 "With morning, Erin's land in mist arose : — 
 
 Her azure hills their varied forms disclose. 
 
 Our barks soon reach'd the brown Moi-lena's bay ; 
 
 Where, shelter'd from the shrieking blast, we lay : 
 
 Whilst, in the bosom of its echoing woods, 
 
 Blue waters roll'd, in gently swelling floods. 
 
130 TEMORA : Canto IV. 
 
 There, in his secret hall, brave Cormac shuns 
 Colc-ulla's strength, which Erin's land o'er-runs. 
 Nor does the chief alone avoid the foe — 
 There did the blue-eye of Roscrana glow : 
 Roscrana, 3 daughter of green Erin's king, 
 Fair as the snow, — and bright as verdant spring ! 
 
 III. 
 " Forth came the aged steps of Erin's chief: 
 With smiles he greeted ; — but his soul felt grief! 
 Grey, on his pointless spear, he met our eyes : 
 He saw us few, and swelPd with secret sighs. 
 " 1 view," said he, " the arms of Trenmor's might; — 
 I view his steps — thou youthful beam of light ! 
 My darken'd soul is cheer'd before thy face. 
 Early thy fame — O pride of Morven's race ! 
 O Fingal ! bright thy dauntless bosom glows — 
 Noble thou art — but strong are Erin's foes ! 
 Thou son of car-borne ComhaPs fearless hand ! 
 They 're like the roar of torrents in our land." 
 " Yet, Erin's king, they may be roll'd 4 away," 
 Replied my rising soul, — " thy fears allay. 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 131 
 
 King of blue- shielded hosts ! no feeble race — 
 
 No faraeless blood, stands now before thy face. 
 
 Why should their strength one gloomy thought excite? 
 
 "Why terror scare us, like a ghost of night? 
 
 The valiant soul will ne'er to danger yield ; 
 
 It only grows when horror treads the field. 
 
 Nay, roll not darkness on the young in fight, 
 
 Conar's son ! — O king of Erin's might !" 
 
 IV. 
 " The briny tears of Cormac quickly start: 
 He seiz'd my hand amid his swelling heart. 
 " Race of the daring Trenmor!" he replies, 
 " I roll no cloud before thy beaming eyes ! 
 
 1 see thee burning with thy fathers' flame ! 
 Yes ! gladly do I view thy rising fame. 
 
 It marks thy course amid the ruthless fight. 
 
 It glows in battle, like a stream of light ! 
 
 But Cairbar s comes ; — my son must join thy sword : 
 
 His band must strengthen Fingal's gallant horde. 
 
 Round Erin's hills, with eager steps, he runs, 
 
 And calls, from all their distant streams, her sons." 
 
132 TEMORA: Canto IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 u Then, to the regal hall we bent our way, 
 
 "Where its proud turrets met the morning's ray, 
 
 Midst rocks, on whose dark sides the streams of old, 
 
 Had, oft, their roaring torrents' fury told. 
 
 Broad oaks, around, their moss-cloth'd arms expand. 
 
 The thick birch, waving near, spreads o'er the land. 
 
 There, halfconceal'd within her shady grove, 
 
 The fair Roscrana rais'd the song of love ; 
 
 Whilst o'er the warbling harp her snow-white fingers move. 
 
 With trembling joy — with gently-heaving sighs, 
 
 I met the fair-one's soft blue-rolling eyes 
 
 She seem'd a heavenly spirit 6 half-entwin'd 
 
 In skirts of clouds, and floating on the wind ! 
 
 VI. 
 " Three days, with feasts, we at Moi-Iena stay : 
 My sleepless soul still feels Roscrana's sway. 
 Cormac beheld me dark — midst joyance grave ! 
 He gave me bliss — the matchless maid he gave ! 
 She comes with bending eye — with timid air,— 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 1S3 
 
 The sportful breezes kiss her flowing hair. 
 
 She came ! and straight the battle's tempest roar'd :— 
 
 Colc-ulla's wrath appear'd : — I took my sword. 
 
 I led my people 'gainst the ridgy foe. 
 
 Alnecma fled. Soon was Colc-ulla low. 
 
 Fingal return'd with fame ! * # * 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Renown'd, O Fingal, is the hero's hand, 
 
 Who fights amid the strength of his proud band : 
 
 The bard pursues his steps throughout the hostile land. 
 
 But he who fights alone, few are his deeds : 
 
 To other times his glory scarce proceejds ! 
 
 He shines, to-day, a mighty light, 'tis true ; 
 
 To-morrow, he is low — is lost to view : 
 
 One simple song contains his passing fame. 
 
 On one dark field we trace the hero's name. 
 
 He is forgot ; but where his narrow tomb 
 
 Sends forth the tufted grass, in silent gloom !" 
 
134- TEMORA: Canto IV. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Thus did the tale of mighty Fingal close; 
 
 Such were his words on Mora of the roes. 
 
 Three bards, from Cormul's craggy rock, pour down 
 
 The pleasing song, and meager sorrow drown. 
 
 Soft slumber hovers, in the gentle sound, 
 
 O'er the broad-skirted host, now spread around, 
 
 The bards return, by aged Carril led, 
 
 From lost Dunlora's chief's cold clayey bed. 
 
 The voice of morning never more shall come, 
 
 Duthcaron ! to thy silent dusky tomb ! 
 
 Ne'er shalt thou hear the tread of timid roes, 
 Around thy narrow house — thy house of woes ! 
 
 IX. 
 As, round a meteor of the wondering night, 
 The roving clouds collect, with calm delight, 
 'Till, half-enlighten'd with its blaze, they sleep 
 Along the margin of the heaving deep. 
 So gathers Erin round the graceful form 
 Of Cathmor, after war's tempestuous storm. 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. l%5 
 
 Tall, in the midst, his nodding plumes appear : 
 He careless lifts, at times, his mighty spear ; 
 As swells or falls, amid the listening throng, 
 The sound of Fonar's harp, and distant song. 
 7 Near to green Erin's chief a stranger stay'd, 
 A sweetly-blooming, lovely, blue-eyed, maid, 
 Sul-malla,* purer than the limpid spring ! 
 Daughter of Conmor, Inis-huna's king. 
 When, to his aid, blue-shielded Cathmor came, 
 And swept his foes away, with brilliant fame, 
 Sul-malla, in the hall of feasts, beheld 
 The stately chief; with love her bosom swell'd ! 
 Nor careless did the pride of Erin's isle, 
 View the white-handed virgin's artless smile ! 
 
 X. 
 The third day glisten'd in its youthful beams, 
 When Fithil 8 came from Erin of the streams. 
 He told the danger gloomy Cairbar fear'd : 
 He told that Selma's hostile shield 9 was rear'd. 
 
 * Sul-malla, slowly-rolling eyes. Caon-mor, mild and tall, Inw- 
 huna, green island. 
 
136 TEMORA: Canto It. 
 
 At Cluba, Cathmor's sails were quick display'd : 
 
 But lingering winds in other lands delay'd. 
 
 Three days the hero with impatience burn'd ; 
 
 His eyes on Con mor's joyful halls he turn'd. 
 
 His pensive soul the lovely stranger sees: 
 
 His secret sigh o'er swelling billows flees ! 
 
 Now, when returning winds the wave reviv'd, 
 
 A youth in armour, from the hill, arriv'd, 
 
 And asked to join green Erin's bossy shields, — 
 To lift the sword in Cathmor's echoing fields. 
 It was Sul-malla ; who from home had stray'd : 
 
 Beneath her helmet dwelt the gentle maid. 
 Near Cathmor's path her secret steps abide : 
 Her blue-eyes roll with joy on Erin's pride ! 
 Oft o'er his head the trembling maiden wept, 
 When, by his roaring streams, the hero slept. 
 But Cathmor, thought that, far from stormy foes* 
 On Lumon's hill, she still pursued the roes. 
 He thought the fair-one, on some rock reclin'd, 
 Stretch'd out her white hand to the murmuring wind, 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 137 
 
 With anxious heart, its swelling course to prove, 
 From Erin, the green dwelling of her love. 
 His broad white-bosom'd sails he vow'd to raise, 
 And soon to meet his dear with songs of praise. 
 O Cathmor ! near thee is thy matchless maid, 
 Against the flinty rock her snowy arm is stay'd I 
 
 XL 
 Around the king, the chiefs of Erin's land, 
 All but ferocious dark-brow'd Foldath, 10 stand. 
 Sullen, against a distant tree enclin'd, 
 His bushy hair now whistles in the wind : 
 Vexation's clouds spread o'er his haughty mind. 
 At times bursts forth the humming of a song, 
 As his proud eye-ball glances towards the throng. 
 At length he struck the tree, in wrathful force ; 
 And rush'd before the king, with air morose. 
 Stately and calm, while blaze of oak-trees glows, 
 The comely mien of young Hidalla rose. 
 In wreaths of waving light, his hair descends, 
 And round his blushing cheek its ringlets bends. 
 
138 TEMORA : Canto IV, 
 
 Soft was his voice in Clonra's* grassy plains ; 
 Oft did his fathers* valleys hail the strains. 
 When to the harp he joined his mellow throat, 
 With quivering bliss the hall resung the note. 
 
 XII. 
 Hidalla says, " O king of Erin's isle ! 
 Now is the time to feast — and care beguile. 
 Bid bards' harmonious voices swell the lay. — 
 Bid them drown grief: — and roll the night away. 
 The soul to war more terrible returns, 
 When from the song its glowing ardour burns. 
 Darkness on Erin spreads. From hill to hill 
 The skirted clouds extend their dewy chill. 
 Grey, on the heath, the mourning ghosts appear, 
 With dreadful strides, along the plain they veer ; 
 Or, fluttering round, bend down their song to hear. 
 O Cathnior ! bid the trembling harps to rise. — 
 Brighten the dead — as on his blast he flies 1" 
 
 * Claon-rath, urinding Jield, The th are seldom pronounced audibly 
 in the Gaelic language. 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 139 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Be all the dead forgot, like flimsy froth !" 
 
 Said gloomy Foldath, in his bursting wrath. — ■ H^ 
 
 "Did not my hand, to-day, in battle fail? 
 
 Then shall I hear the song mix with the gale? 
 
 Yet harmless in the war was not my force : — 
 
 Blood mark'd my steps ; and stream'd around my course ! 
 
 But feebly crept behind the nerveless horde ! 
 
 The trembling foe has now escap'd my sword. 
 
 In Clonra's vale touch thou the twanging strings ! 
 
 Let Dura answer when Hidalla sings. 
 
 Let some coy maiden look, from Clonra's wood, 
 
 On thy long yellow locks, so neatly strew'd. 
 
 Fly Lubar's echoing plain — fair harper ! fly — 
 
 This is the field where fearless heroes die !" 
 
 XIV. 
 " 'Tis thine, O king of Erin !" * Malthos cries, 
 •* To lead in war, before thy people's eyes. 
 
 * This speech of Malthos is, throughout, a severe reprimand to the 
 blustering behaviour of Foldath. 
 
140 TEMORA : Canto IV. 
 
 Thou art a fire along the dark-brown field ! 
 
 Foes shrink, agast, from Cathmor's echoing shield ! 
 
 Quick, as a blast, hast thou past over hosts ; 
 
 And, low in blood, oft, laid their haughty boasts ! 
 
 But, who, when glory glitter'd from thy sword,— 
 
 When conquest crown'd thee, — ever heard thy word ? 
 
 The tales of death delight the wrathful ear : 
 
 It thinks of naught but wounds wrought by its spear. 
 
 Strife is for ever folded in its mind. 
 
 In every word a haughty boast we find. 
 
 Like to a troubled stream was Foldath's course. 
 
 The dead were strew'd around thy raging force. 
 
 But, others, likewise, lift the spear of might. — . 
 
 Others there are who shine amid the fight. 
 
 Thou wert not followed by a feeble throng. — 
 
 No : — they were brave ; but Erin's foe was strong." 
 
 XV. 
 Cathmor beheld them both with fury gasp ! 
 Their deadly swords, almost unsheath'd, they grasp. 
 In speechless rage the bursting eye-ball rolls.— 
 The stream of death now gathers in their souls ! 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 141 
 
 Quickly would they have mix'd in horrid fray, 
 
 Did not the king his lofty wrath display. 
 
 He drew his sword ; it brightly gleam'd through night* 
 
 To the high-flaming oak's loud-crackling light. 
 
 " Allay your swelling souls, ye sons of pride !" — 
 
 (Said he,) — Retire. — In silent night abide. 
 
 Let not my rage in bloody vengeance end. — 
 
 Why, with you both, should I in arms contend ? 
 
 i 
 Retire ye clouds !— Quick from my feast retire. 
 
 This is no time for strife and senseless ire. 
 
 Awake my soul no more" * * * 
 
 XVI. 
 
 They sunk from Erin's king on either side : 
 
 11 Like as two misty columns slowly glide, 
 
 When morning's sun, between them, darts his beams, 
 
 And, on the glittering rocks, his glory streams ; 
 
 Dark is their rolling from the dazzling ray ; 
 
 Each to its reedy pool, they bend their way ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The feast is spread. Deep silence reigns around. 
 
 The chieftains sit along the heathy ground. 
 
142 TEMORA : Canto IV. 
 
 At times, their glances towards a steep rock roll, 
 Where Cathmor strode, to calm his setting soul. 
 Wide o'er the field the host of Erin lie. 
 Care-soothing sleep now meets the heavy eye. 
 The sound of Fonar's voice, alone, ascends, 
 Beneath a distant tree, which o'er him bends. 
 In Cathmor's praise his measur'd accents run ; — 
 Larthon" of Lumor's brave, and gen'rous son ! 
 His bright eulogiums glad the heath-brown plain. 
 But Cathmor did not hear the flattering strain : 
 Close by a stream he shunn'd the public view. 
 The rustling breeze of night around him flew. 
 
 XVI LI. 
 Now, whilst in dreams great Cathmor's spirit roams; 
 Wrapt in his low-hung cloud, his brother comes. 
 His ghost the sound of I3 Carries song had heard. 
 Joy, faintly, in his pallid cheek appear'd. 
 A blast supported his dark- skirted cloud ; 
 W T hich he had seiz'd, midst breezes whistling loud, 
 As, in the bosom of the night, he rose, 
 And towards his airy hall the path-way chose. 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
Cants IV. AN EPIC POEM. 143 
 
 The cold dim spectre's feeble words would seem 
 
 Half-mingl'd with the noisy, murmuring, stream. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 * " Joy meet the soul of Cathmor. Thy bless'd voice 
 
 Has made Moi-lena's darken'd field rejoice. 
 
 The bard has given to Cairbar's ghost his song. 
 
 He rides on winds, amid the airy throng. 
 
 Now, to my fathers' hall my light form flies ; 
 
 And wanders freely through the liquid skies : 
 
 Like to the gliding of terrific light, 
 
 Which darts 'cross deserts in a stormy night. 
 
 A bard shall not be wanting at thy tomb, 
 
 When thou art lowly laid in lifeless gloom. 
 
 The sons of song delight the brave to hail. — 
 
 Thy name, O Cathmor ! is a pleasant gale. 
 
 Now lend an ear ye widely-spreading skies — 
 
 The tragic notes — the mournful sounds arise ! 
 
 On Lubar's field a dirge-like voice is come !— 
 
 Ah ! louder still, ye shadowy sons of gloom ! 
 
 The dead were full of fame! * * 
 
 x 
 
 * The ghost of Cairbar speaks. 
 
144 TEMORA : Canto IV. 
 
 Shrilly now swells the feeble sound. — 'Tis gone ! 
 Again the rougher blast is heard, alone ! 
 Ah, soon is Cathmor low !"**** 
 
 Into himself he roll'd. Then, lost to view, 
 Wide on the bosom of the wind he flew. 
 The aged oak the ghost's departure saw, 
 And shook its whistling head, in gloomy awe. 
 The valiant Cathmor, wildly, starts from rest. 
 Cold is his cheek ; and quickly throbs his breast. 
 He takes his deathful spear from dew-moist ground, 
 He widely lifts his wistful eyes around. 
 But silent all. — No object meets his sight — 
 Naught but the misty veil of sombre night. 
 
 XX. 
 # « 14 'Twas Cairbar's voice UBut soon his form took flight 
 Unmark'd, in air, your path, O sons of night ! 
 Oft, in the desert-wild, your ghosts are seen, 
 Like a reflected beam of transient sheen : 
 But, in your timid blasts, ye soon retire, 
 Before our steps approach your airy gire. 
 * Cathmor speaks. 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 145 
 
 Go then ye feeble race ! Go, sink in night. 
 
 No knowledge with you dwells ! — With you no might \ 
 
 Your joys are weak ; — like fleeting dreams they roll. — 
 
 Like light-wing'd thought that flies across the soul. 
 
 Shall Cathmor shortly in his cold grave lie; 
 
 Where morning comes not with half-open'd eye ? 
 
 Away thou feeble shade ! — to fight is mine ! 
 
 All further thought away ! — the king shall shine ! 
 
 I rush on eagle- wings, like hungry flame, 
 
 To seize, with eager grasp, refulgent fame. 
 
 Abiding in the lonely^vale of streams, 
 
 The narrow 15 soul ne'er seeks bright glory's beams. 
 
 Seasons return : — dark years glide, slowly, on ; 
 
 But he is still unknown — unmark'd is gone ! 
 
 In a blast comes the cloudy hand of death, 
 
 And lays his grey head low—demands his quivering breath 
 
 Folded in vapours of the fenny field, 
 
 His ghost to every sickly breeze must yield. 
 
 Never on hills, nor mossy vales, 'twill find 
 
 Its hardy course; nor mount majestic wind. 
 
U6 TEMOKA. Canto IV, 
 
 Not so shall Cathmor. — His departing spright 
 Will proudly hover in pellucid light. 
 No boy in fields was he; who only marks 
 The bed of roes ; and seeks the nestling larks. 
 My issuing forth was ever found with kings, 
 When danger spread around her roaring wings. 
 My joy has ever dwelt in dreadful plains, 
 Where icy death, in cloudy terror, reigns. — 
 Where broken hosts are quickly roll'd away, 
 Like seas, when raging winds their ire display ." 
 
 XXI. ' 
 So spoke Alneema's king's high-towering soul. — 
 So spoke that heart which fear could ne'er control. 
 Proud valour flames within his mighty breast. — 
 There courage dwells — no short — no transient guest I 
 Stately his stride along the heathy ground 
 While infant beams of east are pour'd around. 
 He saw his host about the field wide spread, 
 In purple ridges, on their dewy bed. 
 His soul was joyous ; like a heavenly spright, 
 Whose steps come forth on seas, in some calm night : 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 147 
 
 He views the peaceful ocean huge display'd, 
 Smooth its expanse, and all the winds are laid : 
 But soon he wakes the waves' tremendous roar, 
 And rolls them large to some loud-echoing shore, 
 
 XXII. 
 The rushy margin of a murmuring rill, 
 Whose stream meander'd from a neighbouring hill, 
 Is thy cold couch, Sul-malla ! Hard thy lot i 
 But all is now in sleep's soft arms forgot. 
 The helmet parted from her lovely head, 
 And lay beside her, on her humble bed. 
 Her dreams now wander to her fathers' land. 
 There morning's rays, o'er smiling plains, expand. 
 Grey streams leap down from rocks. The dusky breeze, 
 In shadowy waves, o'er rushy meadows flees. 
 Now, for the chase, she seeks the shady grove. 
 Then from the festive hall the warriors move. 
 August and tall above the rest, is seen 
 Blue-streamy Atha's chief's commanding mein. 
 On his Sul-malla beams his eye of love, 
 As, near to her, his stately footsteps move. 
 
148 TEMORA: Canto IV. 
 
 She turns her face away, with maiden pride, 
 And careless bends the bow, her blush to hide. 
 
 XXIII. 
 Such were the dreams of Inis-huna's maid, 
 When Atha's Cathmor near the fair-one stray'd. 
 Her blooming face now meets the hero's eyes, 
 As, midst dishevel'd locks, the virgin lies. 
 He knew the maid of Lumon ! Ne'er did heart, 
 When rudely pierced by battle's flaming dart, 
 E'er feel the deadly weapon's fatal sting, 
 As felt thy soul that sight, O Erin's king ! 
 His sighs arise ! — His tears, in streams, descend : 
 And thoughts ineffable his bosom rend. 
 But what could Cathmor do? Aside he turns: 
 And thus his valiant breast with glory burns. 
 " This is no time, O Atha's king, to wake 
 Thy secret soul, and fame's bright path forsake. 
 The raging fight must now before thee spread, 
 As when a troubled stream o'erflows its bed." 
 
Canto IV. AN EPIC POEM. 149 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 He struck that warning boss 16 which, widely round, 
 
 Re-echoing, made the voice of war resound. 
 
 Like the loud rustling of an eagle's wing, 
 
 Erin arose, around her mighty king. 
 
 Sul-malla started at the awful sound. 
 
 She quickly seiz'd her helmet from the ground. 
 
 Disorder'd ringlets strew her dewy face. 
 
 Fast throbs her heart. — She trembles in her place. 
 
 « Why should they know," said she, " in Erin's land, 
 
 That Conmor's daughter join'd the warlike band ?" 
 
 The race of kings to her remembrance comes ; 
 
 Her soul's best blood, in vivid blushes, roams ! 
 
 She strays behind a rock ; where calmly sail 
 
 The smooth, blue- winding, streamlets of a vale,* 
 
 Where dwelt the dark-brown hind ere war arose. 
 
 There, free from vulgar stare, she vents her woes. 
 
 Thither, at times, did fair Sul-malla's ear 
 
 Hear Cathmor's voice : — that voice to her so dear ! 
 
 Her soul is darkly sad. Her words she pours ; 
 
 As spread the breezes, moist with gentle showers. 
 
 * This was not the valley of Lona, to which Sul-malla after- 
 wards retired. 
 
150 TEMORA: Canto IV, 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Why, fleeting vision of a weary heart, — 
 
 Land of my infant smile ! — so soon depart ! 
 
 The dreams of chase — the dreams of love are fled. 
 
 And darkening war, now gathers in their stead. 
 
 No beam appears, my gloomy path to show ; 
 
 Alas ! methinks I see my hero low ! 
 
 Th' inyincible broad-shielded king appears,— 
 
 Fingal the brave from Selma of the spears ! 
 
 Ghost of departed Conmor! art thou near? 
 
 Dost thou thy hapless, weeping, daughter hear ? 
 
 Say, are thy steps along the restless wind? 
 
 Dost thou thy way to other regions find ? 
 
 Thou dost! — I've heard thee, much-lov'd sire ! at night; 
 
 When raging billows met my sickening sight. 
 
 The pitying voice of fathers' ghosts, they say, 
 
 Calls the sad spirits of their race away, 17 
 
 When in o'erwhelming grief they lonely stray. 
 
 Call me away, my sire ! When Cathmor 's low, 
 
 I shall be lonely in the midst of woe !" 
 
 END OF THE FOURTH CANTO. 
 
NOTES. 
 
NOTES 
 
 FOURTH CANTO. 
 
 I. 
 
 1 This episode has an immediate connection with the story 
 of Connal and Duth-caron, in the latter end of the third Can- 
 to. Fingal, sitting beneath an oak, near the palace of Sel- 
 ma, discovers Connal just landing from Ireland. The danger 
 which threatened Cormac, king of Ireland induces him to 
 sail immediately to that island. The story is introduced by the 
 king, as a pattern for the future behaviour of Fillan, whose 
 rashness in the preceding battle is reprimanded. 
 
 II. 
 
 2 Ul-erin, the guide to Ireland^ a star known by that name 
 in the days of Fingal, and very useful to those who sailed by- 
 night, from the Hebrides, or Caledonia, to the coast of 
 Ulster. 
 
 3 Ros-crana, the beam of the rising sun ; she was the mo- 
 ther of Ossian. The Irish bards relate strange fictions con- 
 cerning this princess. Their stories, however, concerning 
 
154, NOTES, Canto IV. 
 
 Fingal, if they mean him by Fion Mac Connal. are so in- 
 consistent, and notoriously fabulous, that they do not deserve 
 to be mentioned ; for they evidently bear the marks of late 
 invention. 
 
 III. 
 
 4 Cormac had said, that the foes were like the roar of tor- 
 rents, and Fingal continues the metaphor. The speech of 
 the young hero is spirited, and consistent with that se- 
 date intrepidity which eminently distinguishes his character 
 throughout. 
 
 IV. 
 
 5 Cairbar, the son of Cormac, was afterwards king of Ire- 
 land. His reign was short. He was succeeded by his son, 
 Artho, the father of that Cormac who was murdered by Cair- 
 bar, the son of JBorbar-duthuh Cairbar, the son of Cormac, 
 long after his son Artho was grown to man's estate, had, by 
 his wife Beltanno, another son, whose name was Ferad-artho. 
 He was the only one remaining of the race of Conar, the first 
 king of Ireland, when Fingal's expedition against Cairbar, 
 the son of Borbar-duthul, happened. See more of Ferad- 
 artho in the eighth Canto. 
 
 V. 
 
 6 The attitude of Ros-crana is illustrated by this simile; 
 for the ideas of those times, concerning the spirits of the de- 
 ceased, were not so gloomy and disagreeable, as those of suc- 
 ceeding ages. The spirits of women, it was supposed, re- 
 tained that beauty which they possessed while living, and 
 
Canto IV. NOTES. 155 
 
 transported themselves, from place to place, with that gliding 
 motion which Homer ascribes to the gods. The description 
 which poets, less ancient than Ossian, have left us of those 
 beautiful figures that appeared sometimes on the hills, are ele- 
 gant and picturesque. They compare them to the rainbow on 
 streams ; or, the gliding of sun-beams on the hills. A Chief, 
 who lived three centries ago, returning from the war, under- 
 stood that his wife or mistress was dead. A bard introduces 
 him speaking the following soliloquy, when he came within 
 sight of the place where he had left her, at his departure : — 
 
 " My soul darkens in sorrow, I behold not the smoke of 
 my hall. No grey dog bounds at my streams. Silence dwells 
 in the valley of trees. 
 
 " Is that a rainbow on Crunath ? It flies ; and the sky is 
 dark. Again thou movest, bright on the heath, thou sun- 
 beam clothed in a shower ! Hah ! it is she, my love ! her 
 gliding course on the bosom of winds !" 
 
 In succeeding times the beauty of Ros-crana passed in a 
 proverb ; and the highest compliment that could be paid to a 
 woman, was to compare her person with the daughter of Cor" 
 mac. 
 
 'S tu fein an Ros-crana 
 Siol Chormaec na n* ionma lau. 
 IX. 
 
 7 In order to illustrate this passage, I shall here give the 
 history on which it is founded, as I have gathered it from tra- 
 dition. The nation of the Firbolg, who inhabited the south 
 
156 NOTES. Canto IV. 
 
 of Ireland, being originally descended from the Belga?, who 
 possessed the south, and south-west coast of Britain, kept 
 up, for many ages, an amicable correspondence with their 
 mother country ; and sent aid to the British Belgae, when 
 they were pressed by the Romans, or other new comers from 
 the continent. Conmor, king of Inis-huna (that part of 
 South-Britain which is over against the Irish coast,) being at- 
 tacked, by what enemy is not mentioned, sent for aid to 
 Cairbar, lord of Atha, the most potent chief of the Firbolg. 
 Cairbar dispatched his brother Cathmor to the assistance of 
 Conmor. Cathmor after many vicissitudes of fortune, put 
 an end to the war, by the total route of the enemies of Inis- 
 huna, and returned in triumph to the residence of Conmor. 
 There, at a feast, Sul-malla, the daughter of Conmor, fell 
 desperately in love with Cathmor, who, before her passion 
 was disclosed, was recalled to Ireland by his brother Cairbar, 
 upon the news of the intended expedition of Fingal to re- 
 establish the family of Conar on the Irish throne. The wind 
 being contrary, Cathmor remained, for three days, in a neigh- 
 bouring bay, during which time Sul-malla disguised herself 
 in the habit of a young warrior, and came to offer him her 
 service in the war. Cathmor accepted of the proposal, sailed 
 for Ireland, and arrived in Ulster a few days before the death 
 of Cairbar. 
 
 X. 
 8 Fithal, an inferior lard. It may either be taken here 
 for the proper name of a man, or, in a literal sense, as the 
 
Canto IF. NOTES. 157 
 
 bards were the heralds and messengers of those times. Cath- 
 mor, it is probable, was absent, when the rebellion of his 
 brother Cairbar, and the assassination of Cormac, king of 
 Ireland, happened. Cathmor and his followers had only ar- 
 rived from Inis-huna three days before the death of Cairbar ; 
 which sufficiently clears his character of all imputation of 
 being concerned in the conspiracy with his brother. 
 
 9 The ceremony which was used by Fingal, when he pre- 
 pared for an expedition, is related thus in tradition: a bard, 
 at midnight, went to the hall, where the tribes feasted upon 
 solemn occasions, raised the war-song, and thrice called the 
 spirits of the deceased ancestors to come, on their clouds, to 
 behold the actions of their children. He then fixed the shield 
 of Trenmor on a tree, on the rock of Selma, striking it, at 
 times, with the blunt end of a spear, and singing the war- 
 song between. Thus he did for three successive nights ; and 
 in the meantime, messengers were dispatched to. call together 
 the tribes, or, to use an ancient expression, to call them from 
 all their streams. This phrase alludes to the situation of the 
 residences of the clans, which were generally fixed in valleys, 
 where the torrents of the neighbouring mountains were col- 
 lected into one body, and became large streams, or rivers. 
 the lifting up of the shield was the phrase for beginning a war. 
 
 XI. 
 
 10 The surly attitude of Foldath is a proper preamble to 
 his after behaviour. Chafed with the disappointment of the 
 
158 NOTES, Canto IV. 
 
 victory which he had promised himself, he becomes passionate 
 and overbearing. The quarrel which succeeds between him 
 and Malthos, is introduced to raise the character of Cathmor, 
 whose superior worth shines forth in the manly manner of 
 ending the difference between the chiefs. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 11 This comparison is favourable to the superiority of Cath- 
 mor over his two chiefs. I shall illustrate this passage with 
 another from a fragment of an ancient poem, just now in my 
 hands. « As the sun is above the vapours, which his beams 
 have raised, so is the soul of the king above the sons of fear. 
 They roll dark below him ; he rejoices in the robe of his 
 beams. But when feeble deeds wander on the soul of the 
 king, he is a darkened sun rolled along the sky ; the valley 
 is sad below ; flowers wither beneath the drops of the night." 
 XVII. 
 
 w Lear-thon, sea wave, the name of the chief of that co- 
 lony of the Firbolg, which first migrated into Ireland. Lar- 
 thon's first settlement in that country is related in the se- 
 venth Canto. He was the ancestor of Cathmor; and is here 
 called, Larthon of Lumon, from a high hill of that name, in 
 Inis-huna, the seat of the Firbolg. The character of Cath- 
 mor is preserved. The aversion of that chief to praise, was 
 mentioned in the first Canto ; and we find him here lying at 
 the side of a stream, that the noise of it may drown the voice 
 of Fonar, who, according to the custom of the times, sung 
 his eulogium in his evening song. Though other chiefs, as 
 
Canto IV. NOTES. 159 
 
 well as Cathmor, might be averse to hear their own praise, 
 we find it the universal policy of the times, to allow the bards 
 to be as extravagant as they pleased in their encomiums, on 
 the leaders of armies, in the presence of their people. The 
 vulgar, who had no great ability to judge for themselves, re- 
 ceived the characters of their princes entirely upon the faith 
 of their bards. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 13 Carril, the son of Kinfena, by the orders of Ossian, 
 sung the funeral elegy at the tomb of Cairbar. See the se- 
 cond Canto, towards the end. In all these poems, the visits 
 of ghosts to their living friends, are short, and their language 
 obscure ; both which circumstances tend to throw a solemn 
 gloom on these supernatural scenes. Towards the latter end 
 of the speech of the ghost of Cairbar, he foretells the 
 death of Cathmor, by enumerating those signals, which, 
 according to the opinion of the times, preceded the death of 
 a person renowned. It was thoughc that the ghosts of de- 
 ceased bards sung, for three nights preceding the death, 
 (near the place where his tomb was to be raised,) round an 
 unsubstantial figure, which represented the body of the person 
 who was to die. 
 
 XX. 
 
 14 The soliloquy of Cathmor suits the magnanimity of his 
 character. Though staggered at first with the prediction of 
 Cairbar's ghost, he soon comforts himself with the agreeable 
 prospect of his future renown : and, like Achilles, prefers a 
 
160 NOTES. Canto IV. 
 
 short and glorious life, to an obscure length of years in re- 
 tirement and ease. 
 
 * s An indolent and unwarlike life was held in extreme con- 
 tempt. Whatever a philosopher may say, in praise of quiet 
 and retirement, I am far from thinking but they weaken and 
 debase the human mind. When the faculties of the soul are 
 not exerted, they lose their vigour ; and low and circumscrib- 
 ed notions take the place of noble and enlarged ideas. Ac- 
 tion, on the contrary, and the vicissitudes of fortune which 
 attend it, call forth, by turns, all the powers of the mind ; 
 and, by exercising, strengthen them. Hence it is, that in 
 great and opulent states, when property and indolence are 
 secured to individuals, we seldom meet with that strength of 
 mind which is so common in a nation not far advanced in ci- 
 vilization. It is a curious, but just observation, that great 
 kingdoms seldom produce great characters ; which must be 
 altogether attributed to that indolence and dissipation, which 
 are the almost inseparable companions of too much property 
 and security. Rome, it is certain, had more real great men 
 within it, when its power was confined within the narrow 
 bounds of Latium, than when its dominion extended over all 
 the known world: and one petty state (says Macpherson) 
 of the Saxon heptarchy had, perhaps, as much genuine spirit 
 in it, as the two British kingdoms united. (Cotvs afar off 
 have long horns.) As a state, we are much more powerful 
 
Canto IV. NOTES. 161 
 
 than our ancestors, but we would lose by comparing indivi- 
 duals with them. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 16 In order to understand this passage, it is necessary to 
 look to the description of Cathmor's shield in the seventh 
 Canto. This shield had seven principal bosses, the sound of 
 each of which, when struck with a spear, conveyed a parti- 
 cular order from the king to his tribes. The sound of one of 
 them, as here, was the signal for the army to assemble. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 17 Conmor, the father of Sul-malla, was killed in that war 
 from which Cathmor delivered Inis-huna. Lormar, his son, 
 succeeded Conmor. It was the opinion of the times, that, 
 when a person was reduced to a pitch of misery, which could 
 admit of no alleviation, the ghosts of his ancestors called his 
 soul avoay. This supernatural kind of death was called the 
 voice of the dead ; and is believed by the superstitious vulgar, 
 to this day. 
 
 There is no people in the world, perhaps, who give more 
 universal credit to apparitions, and the visits of the ghosts of 
 the deceased to their friends, than the ancient Scots. This is 
 to be attributed as much, at least, to the situation of their 
 country, as to that credulous disposition which distinguishes 
 an unenlightened people. As their business was feeding of 
 cattle, in dark and extensive deserts, so their journeys lay 
 over wide and unfrequented heaths, where often they were 
 obliged to sleep in the open air, amidst the whistling of winds a 
 
162 NOTES. Canto IV. 
 
 and the roar of water-falls. The gloominess of the scenes 
 around them was apt to beget that melancholy disposition of 
 mind, which most readily receives impressions of the extra- 
 ordinary and supernatural kind. Falling asleep in this gloomy 
 mood, and their dreams being disturbed by the noise of the 
 elements around, it is no matter of wonder that they thought 
 they heard the voice of the dead. This voice of the dead, how- 
 ever, was, perhaps, no more than a shrill whistle of the wind 
 in an old tree, or in the chinks of a neighbouring rock. It 
 is to this cause I ascribe those many and ridiculous tales of 
 ghosts, which we meet with in the Highlands: for, in other 
 respects, we do not find that the inhabitants are more credu- 
 lous than their neighbours. 
 
 END OF THE NOTES OF FOURTH CANTO. 
 
TEMORA: 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 The Poet, after a short address to the harp of Cona, describes the arrange- 
 ment of both armies on either side of the river Lubar. Fingal gives the 
 command to Fillan : but, at the same time, orders Gaul, the son of Morni, 
 who had been wounded in the hand in the preceding battle, to assist him 
 with his counsel. The army of the Firbolg is commanded by Foldath, 
 The general onset is described. The great actions of Fillan. He kills 
 Rothmar and Culmin. But when Fillan conquers in one wing, Foldath 
 presses hard on the other. He wounds Dermid, the son of Duthno, and 
 puts the whole wing to flight. Dermid deliberates with himself, and, at 
 last, resolves to put an end to the progress of Foldath, by engaging him m 
 single combat. When the two chiefs were approaching one another, Fil- 
 
 a a 
 
164i TEMORA : . Canto V. 
 
 Ian came suddenly to the relief of Dermid ; engaged Foldath, and killed 
 him. The behaviour of Malthos towards the fallen Foldath. Fillan puts 
 the whole army of the Firbolg to flight. The Canto closes with an address 
 to Clatho, the mother of that hero. 
 
 I. 
 
 O harp that dwell'st between the shields of might, 
 
 That peaceful hang on high, in Ossian's hall, 
 Now from thy place descend, with accents bright, 
 
 And let me hear thy heart-reviving call I 
 Strike, son of Alpin, strike the trembling string \ 
 
 Awake my soul with thy enchanting lay; 
 With magic touch to my remembrance bring 
 
 The tale, which Lora's * stream has roll'd away. 
 I stand envelop'd in the cloud of years — 
 
 Few are its openings to the checker'd past; 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM. 165 
 
 And when the vision comes it dark appears, 
 And dimly hovers, like a midnight-blast ! 
 
 O harp of green Selma, I hear thy glad numbers ! 
 
 My soul now returns, like a breeze to the vale, 
 Which the bright sun brings back, where the lazy mist 
 slumbers ; 
 
 While Spring's airy songsters rejoice in the gale, 
 
 II. 
 
 The winding vale of Lubar 2 meets my eyes. 
 
 On either side the kings' tall forms arise. 
 
 Their people, crowding round them, forward bend, 
 
 And to the monarchs' glowing words attend ; 
 
 As if their fathers' ghosts, in solemn lore, 
 
 Had spoke, descending from the tempest's roar ! 
 
 But they themselves are like two rocks, that stand, 
 
 With lofty pine-cloth'd heads, in desert land; 
 
 When o'er low-sailing mist their plumes are seen, 
 
 Majestic- waving in eternal green : 
 
 High on their face are streams, that spread their foam 
 
 On blasts of wind, that fondly round them roam, 
 
166 TEMORA : Canto V. 
 
 III. 
 
 Beneath the voice of Cathmore Erin pours, 
 
 Like sound of flame that through the forest scours. 
 
 Wide-spreading, down to Lubar's plain they glide. 
 
 Before the host is Foldath's haughty stride. 
 
 But Atha's king to his own hill ascends — 
 
 An aged oak-tree o'er the chieftain bends — 
 
 A stream, loud-tumbling from the rock is near — 
 
 He lifts, at times, his brightly-gleaming spear ; 
 
 A flame it is before his people's eyes, 
 
 When midst the clouds of war the hero flies ! 
 
 Not far from him the # lovely stranger stood — 
 
 Her soul delighted not in strife of blood. 
 
 A valley 3 greenly spreads behind the hill ; 
 
 There three blue streams their peaceful waters trill — 
 
 The silent sun-beam glads it with its ray — 
 
 The mountain-roes come down, and fearless stray. 
 
 Qn these the pensive maiden's eyes were turn'd, 
 
 While with a thousand hopes and fears she burnU 
 
 * Suilmalla, 
 
Canto V, AN EPIC POEM. 167 
 
 IV. 
 
 As Fingal lifts on high his watchful eyes, 
 
 The son of Borbar-duthul he descries. 
 
 Deep-rolling Erin likewise he beholds : 
 
 Wide on the darkened plain her strength unfolds. 
 
 He strikes that boss which bids his host obey, 
 
 When e'er he sends his chiefs to lead the way. 
 
 Wide rise their lances to the morning's rays, 
 
 And glittering bright increase its youthful blaze. 
 
 Quick do their echoing shields reply around, 
 
 Till Cormul's trembling rock repeats the sound. 
 
 Fear, like a vapour, winds not 'mongst the host : 
 
 For he, their king, is nigh, — their strength — their boast S 
 
 The beams of gladness on his face appear, 
 
 While, with proud joy, the hero's words we hear. 
 
 V. 
 f' As the loud-roaring wind with fury runs, 
 So is the sound of Selma's warlike sons ! 
 They're mountain-torrents, steady to their course, 
 Sweeping the echoing fields with whelming force ! 
 
168 TtfMORA; Canto K 
 
 Hence is your king renown'd. From hence his fame. 
 
 Hence proudly dwells in other lands his name. 
 
 No lonely beam in danger's cloud was he; — 
 
 Your steps did never from your leader flee I 
 
 But when was Fingal in your presence dark ? 
 
 When did your eyes his ghastly fury mark? 
 
 My voice sent forth no thunder to your ear — 
 
 My eye sent forth no death — no glance austere. 
 
 If e'er the haughty came I saw them not : 
 
 At Fingal's feast they ever were forgot. 
 
 Unmark'd they fled : — they melted soon away, 
 
 Like mist before yon bright unclouded ray I 
 
 A youthful beam now dawns upon your view. 
 
 Few are his deeds; his paths to war are few ! 
 
 But he is brave ! Defend my dark-hair'd son I 
 
 Bring Fillan back, with glory proudly won t 
 
 Hereafter may he singly face the foe ; 
 
 And his departed fathers' prowess show. 
 
 His form is like to their's. His soul's a flame 
 
 Lit at their fire, and fann'd by love of fame \ 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM. 169 
 
 Move nigh the youth, O car-borne Morni's son, 
 When slaughter's deadly tempest has begun. 
 Oft' let thy voice, which ne'er was drown'd by fear* 
 From the dark skirts of war reach Fillan's ear. 
 Not unobserved rolls battle o'er the fields, 
 Before thine eye, thou breaker of the shields !" 
 
 VI. 
 Whilst every breast with brightest ardour glow'd, 
 At once to Cormul's rock the monarch strode. 
 The light darts intermitting from his shield, 
 As Fingal slowly moves along the field. 
 His side-long glance oft' o'er the heath inclines, 
 While Selma's sons advance in forming lines. 
 The chief of heroes shone with awful grace ; 
 A dreadful joy illum'd his kingly face ! 
 His long grey locks high-floated on the wind. 
 With measured steps I darkly moved behind. 
 The valiant Gaul came forward o'er the field — 
 Loose on its thong now hung his bossy shield. 
 He spoke to Ossian : " Son of Selma's king, 
 High to my side quick bind 4 my buckler-string. 
 
170 TEMORA: Canto V. 
 
 The foe may think I lift the spear of might, 
 When they behold it glistening in the fight. 
 If I should fall, O hide my earthy tomb 
 In some lone spot, in secret silent gloom i 
 For fall I must without a conqueror's name ; 
 Mine arm now cannot raise the steel of fame. 
 Ah, tell it not to Evir-choma's ear ; 
 Let not her blushes for her Gaul appear. 
 Fillan ! the eyes of might around us fly ! 
 Then let us fearless to the combat hie. 
 Why should they from their lofty hills descend* 
 Assistance to our flying field to lend ?" 
 
 VII. 
 He then strode onward 'mid his buckler's sound. 
 My voice pursued him o'er the heathy ground : 
 " Can Morni's son without his fame e'er fall ? 
 Can Erin heedless view intrepid Gaul ? 
 But mighty souls conceive their deeds as nought ; 
 Their glorious acts are by themselves forgot. 
 Careless they rush o'er fields of bright renown : 
 Their words are never heard, though conquest crown !" 
 My lingering glance the hero's steps pursued ; 
 With heart elate the undaunted chief I view'd. 
 
Cauto F. AN EPIC POEM. 171 
 
 Then high to Fingal's rock my path inclin'd, 
 Where, tall, he sat, amid the mountain wind. 
 
 viir. 
 
 In two dark ridges, burning to contend, 
 The hosts at Lubar tow'rds each other bend. 
 A cloudy pillar Foldath here appears : 
 There Fillan's youth shines bright amid the spears. 
 Each in the shrinking wave now rests his lance: 
 Each sends the voice of war — the hoarse " advance I" 
 Gaul loudly struck green Selma's signal shield : 
 At once they plunge in battle o'er the field ! 
 Steel pours its gleam on steel, with deathful shocks : 
 Like falling torrents from the darken'd rocks, 
 Which mix their foam, with wild terrific roar, 
 And onward rushing sweep the echoing shore ! 
 Behold he comes, the youthful son of fame ! 
 He lays them low, like lightning's forked flame. 
 Deaths sit on blasts, O Fillan, round thy course ! 
 The mighty strew thy path ; — or shun thy force. 
 Bb 
 
i72 TEMORA: Canto V. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Now horror strides along the blood-stain'd field. 
 
 Here lies a helmet, — there a fractured shield. 
 
 The helpless, wounded, fear each crushing tread ! 
 
 The fluttering spirits join their kindred dead. 
 
 They strike ! They fall ! \Vith quivering limbs they lie 
 
 Not even death can close the furious eye ! 
 
 Between two chinky rocks brave, Rothmar 5 stood,-*-? 
 
 The shield of warriors in the strife of blood ! 
 
 Two lofty oak-trees, bent by stormy wind, 
 
 On either side their spreading boughs inchVd. 
 
 Here with uplifted sword he made his stand, 
 
 While fierce destruction pour'd on every hand. 
 
 He rolls his darkening eyes on Fillan's might, 
 
 And silent shades his friends amid the fight. 
 
 Great Fingal saw the wrathful chiefs draw near ; 
 
 His soul arose — he seem'd all eye ! — all ear I 
 
 But, as the roll of Loda's 6 stone is heard, 
 
 "When shook at once from rocky Druman-ard, 
 
 "While angry spirits heave the earth around — 
 
 Sq fell blue-shielded Rothmar to the groun4 1 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM. 173 
 
 X. 
 The youthful Culmin's fearless steps were nigh. 
 The bursting tear came rolling from his eye. 
 In wrath he wildly cut the whistling wind, 
 Ere yet his strokes with Fillan's were combin'd. 
 With Rothmar he his first proud bow had^bent, 
 When to the rock of his blue streams he went i 
 There did they oft the wandering roe pursue, 
 As o'er the fern the early sun-beam flew. 
 Cul-allin's son ! thou hapless Culmin ! why 
 Rush on that 7 beam of light ! His fury fly ! 
 Be wise, nor tempt that bright consuming fire : 
 While time remains, from Fillan's steps retire* 
 Your fathers were not equal in the field : 
 Unlike their strength the glittering lance to wield, 
 Young Culmin's mother, from the hall, descries 
 A whirlwind, on blue-rolling Strutha, rise, 
 Dark-eddying round the phantom of her son, 
 As through the umber'd plain its waters run. 
 His howling dogs 8 her trembling soul appal. 
 And now his shield is bloody in the hall. / 
 
174 TEMORA i Canto ¥< 
 
 " Art thou then fallen ! — My Culmin art thou low— 
 My fair-hair'd son — in Erin's war of woe ?" 
 
 XL 
 As when a roe has felt th' insidious dart, 
 And panting lies beneath its fatal smart ; 
 The hunter now surveys her feet of wind, 
 Her former stately bounding calls to mind. 
 So did thy son, O fair Cul-allin ! lie 
 Beneath heroic Fillan's pitying eye. 
 His smoking blood now wanders on his shield, 
 And widely stains Moi-lena's thirsty field. 
 His flowing hair is in a streamlet roll'd. 
 But still his hand grasps, with spasmodic hold, 
 The faithless sword that faii'd him in his need ; 
 When danger flash'd around his fearless head \ 
 « Thou'rt fallen," said Fillan, "ere thy fame was heard:— 
 Ere yet thy name was echoed by the bard. 
 Thy father sent thee to the fatal ground- 
 He hopes to hear thy deeds in song resound.— 
 Perhaps he 's hoary at his azure streams— 
 Perhaps his soul with expectation teems— 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM. 175 
 
 Let not his eye towards Moi-lena glow : 
 
 Ne'er shall thine hand despoil the vanquish'd foe l" 
 
 XII. 
 Fast o'er the sounding heath flies Erin's band, 
 Before the deadly might of Fillan's hand. 
 But, man on man fall Morven's bleeding sons, 
 Where Foldath in his dark-red fury runs. 
 The roar of half his foaming tribes he pours, 
 And on the field a wide destruction showers. 
 Brave Derm id now withstands his frenzied shock. 
 Around their chief the sons of Selma flock : 
 But soon his shield is cleft by Foldath's sword, 
 And o'er the valley flies his scatter'd horde. 
 
 XIII. 
 Then said the foe, in his uplifted pride, 
 " There flies the host that Erin's strength defied S 
 My fame begins ! Go Malthos, go with speed, 
 Bid Cathmore 'fore their vanquish'd tribes proceed, 
 Bid him guard well dark-rolling ocean's shore; 
 Lest Fingal 'scape my sword, 'raid battle's roar. 
 
176 TEMORA: Canto V- 
 
 On earth he soon shall lie, beside some fen : 
 His tomb shall never meet the eyes of men : 
 His ghost shall never hear the song of praise : 
 Nor mount on winds amid the lightning's blaze. 
 Nay ; let it flutter, in its timid cloud, 
 Among the reedy pool's weak misty shroud.'' 
 
 XIV. 
 But Malthos heard his words with darkening doubt. 
 The chief, in silence, glanced his eyes about. 
 Well did he know the gloomy Foldath's pride. 
 He look ? d to Fingal on the mountain's side : 
 Then darkly turning round, in doubtful mood, 
 He plunged his sword, again, in strife of blood. 
 
 XV. 
 In Clono's 9 narrow dale two aged trees, 
 Well shelter'd from the blasts of stormy breeze, 
 Bend o'er a stream whose waters smoothly run ; 
 There, dark in grief, stood Duthno's silent son. 
 The purple torrent pour'd from Dermid's side. 
 His shield, now broken near him, oft' he eyed. 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM. 177 
 
 He lean'd his spear against a mossy stone. 
 
 He fear'd the hopes of Selma now were flown ! 
 
 Why Dermid, why so sad, — why droops thy soul ? 
 
 The tide of war has not yet ceas'd to roll ! 
 
 " I hear the roar of battle spread around, 
 
 My people are alone, and foes abound ! 
 
 Shall victory on Erin proudly glow ? 
 
 It must be, Dermid, after thou art low ! 
 
 I'll call thee forth, O Foldath ! in the fight; 
 
 And meet thee in the fury of thy might !" 
 
 XVI. 
 With dreadful joy the hero rais'd his spear. 
 The npble son of Morni now drew near. 
 " Stay, gallant son of Duthno, stay thy speed. 
 Blood marks thy steps. To where dost thou proceed ? 
 No bossy shield is thine. Why should'st thou fall 
 Unarm'd, before the eyes of wounded Gaul ?" 
 " Give thou thy shield, O steed-borne Morni's son ! 
 Oft* has it roll'd back war ; oft' glory won ! 
 I'll now rush forward, with redoubled force ; 
 And stop the fierce chief in his deathful course. 
 
178 TEMOR A : Canto V. 
 
 O Strumon's valiant chief! behold that stone ! 
 Through the long grass its dark-grey head is shown. 
 When I shall fall inter me in that place: 
 There dwells in night a chief of Dermid's race." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Against the hill the hero slowly rose. 
 
 He saw the troubled field o'erspread with foes : 
 
 The gleaming ridges of the fight he found, 
 
 Disjoin'd and broken, o'er the blood-stain'd ground. 
 
 As distant fires, on heath, by night, now seem 
 
 Enrobed in smoke ; now rearing their red stream y 
 
 As on the hill the winds: or cease* or rise : 
 
 So met the war, broad-shielded Dermid's eyes* 
 
 Wide through the host the striding Foldath raves. 
 
 Like a dark ship in stormy wintry waves, 
 
 When from between two isles she drives the spray a 
 
 To gambol o'er proud ocean's pathless way. 
 
 Now, deep ingulf 'd, she wholly disappears ; 
 
 Now o'er the billow her tall head she rears. 
 
Canto Vi AN EPIC POEM 179 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Dermid with rage beholds his furious course — 
 He rushes on ; — he summons all his force. 
 But soon, exhausted from the loss of blood, 
 His footsteps laird ; — the dauntless hero stood.— 
 The tear comes down. His father's horn he sounds ; 
 Thrice from his bossy shield his spear rebounds ; 
 Thrice does he call proud Foldath to advance ; 
 Thrice does he wave on high his glittering lance. 
 Foldath with joy beholds the chief draw near; 
 He lifts aloft his reeking bloody spear. 
 Like to a winter-rock, around whose head 
 The troubled streams their muddy waters spread \ 
 So, streak'd with wandering blood, with dreadful bound 
 The chief of Moma brushed along the ground. 
 The host, on either side are filled with awe; 
 And from the fearful strife of kings withdraw. 
 Now had they rais'd their points with deadly aim ! — 
 Like tempest's flight the steps of Fillan came. 
 Three paces back did gloomy Foldath run, 
 Struck with the dazzling brightness of that sun ! 
 c c 
 
ISO TEMORA : Canto K 
 
 Which seem'd as issuing from a hovering cloud, 
 To save the wounded chief, — to curb the proud \ 
 High -crested now the haughty Foldath stands : 
 He summons all his steel. * * * 
 
 XIX. 
 As meet two broad-wing'd eagles in their flight, 
 So rush the chieftains into horrid fight. 
 The panting kings * perceive their ireful shocks ; 
 By turns their steps are forward on their rocks : 
 On them the dusky war seems to descend, 
 And from their flaming swords its rage to bend. 
 Cathmor now feels the joy of warriors trill 
 Through every vein, while on his mossy hill : 
 Their secret joy, when cloudy dangers rise 
 To match their souls, and glory's crown the prize ! 
 No longer turns his glance to Lubar's plains : — 
 On Selma's dreadful king his eye remains ! 
 He now beholds him tall, on Mora's height, 
 Rise in his armour;— take the shield of might. 
 
 * Fingal and CathmQr 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM, 131 
 
 XX. 
 'Tis I6 o'er ! Proud Foldath feels the fatal sting; 
 The trusty spear of Fillan pierc'd the king. 
 Nor on the fallen rest his youthful eyes ; 
 Wide through the war with dreadful speed he flies i 
 And now the kindred groans of death arise ! 
 " Stay, son of Fingal, stay thy rapid stride, 
 Dost thou not see that gleaming form now glide, — 
 A dreadful sign of death? Stay — stay thy hand ! 
 Awaken not the king of Erin's land. 
 Return ! enough of glory hast thou won. — 
 Return ! O blue-eyed Clatho's conquering spn !" 
 
 XXI. 
 Malthos " beheld his rival writhe in blood. 
 Darkly above the wounded chief he stood. 
 The gloomy cloud of hatred quits his soul : 
 The tears of pity down his visage roll. 
 He seems a desert-rock, on whose dark side 
 The gently trickling waters wandering glide ; 
 When slowly-sailing mist its brow has past, 
 And all its trees have felt the midnight blast. 
 
182 TEMORA ; Canto V. 
 
 At length the dark brow'd chief the silence broke ; 
 To Moma's dying hero thus he spoke : — 
 < c Whether shall thy grey stone, O Foldath ! stand — 
 In Ullin, or in Moma's f woody land ? 
 Where looks the silent sun, with secret beams, 
 Along Dalrutho's I3 bluc-meand'ring streams. 
 There does the blue-eyed Dardu-lena stray, — 
 There roams thy daughter -mid the evening's ray !" 
 
 XXII. 
 " Think'st thou on her," said Foldath, with a sigh, 
 *' Because no son is mine to close my eye ? — 
 No youth to glory in his father's name: — 
 In his revenge to draw the sword of fame ? 
 Malthos, I am reveng'd ! Behold the field I 
 Not vainly did my hand this weapon wield ! 
 Raise round my narrow house, in yonder plain, 
 The tombs of those my trusty steel has slain. 
 Often shall I forsake the blasts of night, 
 Above their graves to hover with delight; 
 When I behold them, feebly spread around, 
 In their long whistling grass, along the ground P* 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM. 183 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 His soul then quickly rush'd along the gale, 
 
 And wing'd its rapid flight to Moma's vale. 
 
 Darkly it came to Dardu-lena's dreams, 
 
 Who softly slumber'd by Dalrutho's streams. 
 
 Fatigued from rambling 'mid the mountain-wind, 
 
 She just had ceas'd to chase the nimble hind. 
 
 Close to her side her unstrung bow now rests. 
 
 The breezes fold her long hair on her breasts. 
 
 In smiling youth, and cloth'd with beauty's ray, 
 
 The love of heroes on the meadow lay. . 
 
 The sleeping maid her wounded father view'd, 
 
 Dark-bending from the shady skirts of wood. 
 
 At times the chief his blood-stain'd face exposed ; 
 
 Then the dark mist on his pale spectre closed. 
 
 With bursting tears she rose. — The sprite was fled,— 
 
 But Dardulena knew her sire was dead ! 
 
 His soul when folded in dark fury's storm, 
 
 Oft* glanced a soften'd beam on thy fair form ! 
 
 Of all his race dost thou alone remain, 
 
 O blue-eyed maid !— to weep a father slain ! 
 
184 TEMORA: Canto V. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Wide over echoing Lubar, dark to view, 
 
 On wings of fear the sons of Bolga flew I 
 
 Fillan hangs on their steps, with uplift hand. 
 
 "With mangled dead, he strews the heath-brown land, 
 
 Fingal rejoices o'er his matchless son, 
 
 Blue-shielded Cathmor rose! I4 * * * 
 
 XXV. 
 Go, son of Alpin, fetch the harp of fame ! 
 
 Now tune to justest harmony each string. 
 Loud to the listening wind give Fillan's name ! 
 
 While yet he shines in war his praises sing.- — 
 The conquering son of Selma's mighty king ! 
 
 Swell — sweetly swell his deeds of bright renown I 
 Thro' hovering spirits let the accents ring ! 
 
 May fortune never on the hero frown: — 
 But victory's proud smiles his glorious efforts crown !• 
 
 XXVI. 
 " Leave, blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hall ! 
 
 Behold that early beam of thine ! 
 
Canto V. AN EPIC POEM. 185 
 
 The withering foe before him fall — 
 
 In vain their efforts to combine ! 
 Light-trembling from the harp of praise, 
 
 Strike, gentle virgins, strike the sound : 
 O let your softest — brightest lays, 
 
 With youthful Fillan's fame abound ! 
 No greedy hunter he descends 
 
 From dewy haunt of bounding roe ; 
 Nor on the feeble breezes bends, 
 
 In boyish strife, his sportive bow, 
 XXVII. 
 See him deep-folded in red war ! — 
 
 See battle roll against his sides I 
 The trembling thousands shrink afar — 
 
 'Mid groans— -'mid gore — 'mid death he glides ! 
 Fillan is like a heavenly sprite, 
 
 That dark- descends from skirt of wind. 
 The troubled ocean feels his flight : 
 
 Wave after wave he leaves behind. 
 
386 TEMORA ; Canto V. 
 
 His kindling path with fear he spreads : — ■ 
 
 The heaving seas in terror call : — 
 The quaking islands shake their heads ! 
 
 Leave blue-eyed Clatho, leave thy hall I 
 
 END OF THE FIFTH CANTO. 
 
NOTES 
 
 THE FIFTH CANTO. 
 
 i. 
 
 * Lora is often mentioned ; it was a small and rapid 
 stream in the neighbourhood of Selma. There is no ves- 
 tige of this name now remaining : though it appears from 
 a very old song, which the translator has seen, that one 
 of the small rivers on the north-west coast was called Lora 
 some centuries back* 
 
 II. 
 
 * From several passages in the Poem, we may form a 
 distinct idea of the scene of action of Temora. At a small 
 distance from one another rose the hills of Mora and Lu- 
 bar ; the first possessed by Fingal, the second by the army 
 of Cathmor. Through the intermediate plain ran the 
 small river Lubar, on the banks of which all the battles 
 were fought, excepting that between Cairbar and Oscar, 
 related in the first Canto. This last mentioned engage- 
 ment happened to the north of the hill of Mora, of which 
 Fingal took possession, after the army of Cairbar fell back 
 
 Dd 
 
188 KOTES. Canto P 
 
 to that of Cathmor. At some distance, but within sight 
 of Mora, towards the west, Lubar issued from the moun- 
 tain of Crommal, and, after a course through the plain of 
 Moilena, discharged itself into the sea, near the field of 
 battle. Behind the mountain of Crommal ran the small 
 stream of Lavath, on the banks of which Ferad-artho, 
 the son of Cairbre, the only person remaining of the race 
 of Conar, lived concealed in a cave, during the usurpation 
 of Can-bar the son of Borbarduthal. 
 III. 
 
 3 It was to this valley Suilmalla retired, daring the last 
 and decisive battle between Fingal and Cathmor. It is 
 described in the Seventh Canto, where it is called the val- 
 ley of Lona, and the residence of a Druid. 
 
 IV. 
 
 4 It is necessary to remember that Gairl was wounded ; 
 which occasions his requiring the assistance of Ossian to 
 bind his shield on his side, 
 
 IX. 
 s Rothmar, the sound of the sea before a storm. Druro- 
 an-ard, high ridge. Culmin, soft haired. Cul-allin, beau* 
 iiful locks. Strutha, streamy river. 
 
 6 By the stone of Loda is meant a place of worship 
 among the Scandinavians. The Caledonians, in their 
 many expeditions to Orkney and Scandinavia, became 
 acquainted with some of the rites of religion which prevail- 
 ed in those countries ; and the ancient poetry frequently 
 
Canto V. NOTES, 189 
 
 alludes to them. There are some ruins, and circular piles 
 of stones, remaining still in Orkney, and the islands of 
 Shetland, which retain to this day the name of Loda, or 
 Loden. They seem to have differed materially from those 
 Druidical monuments which remain in Britain and the 
 western isles, in their construction. The places of worship 
 among the Scandinavians were originally rude and una- 
 dorned. In after ages, when they opened a communica- 
 tion with other nations, they adopted their manners, and 
 built temples. That at Upsal, in Sweden, was amazingly, 
 rich and magnificent. Harquin, of Norway, built one, 
 near Drontheim, little inferior to the former; and it wen£, 
 always under the name of Loden. Mallet, Introduction 
 p. V histoire de Dannemarc* 
 
 X. 
 
 7 The poet metaphorically calls Fillan a beam of light, 
 Culmin, mentioned here, was the son of Clonmar, chief 
 of Strutho, by the beautiful Culallin. So remarkable was 
 she for the beauty of her person, that she is frequently 
 introduced in the similies and allusions of ancient poetry. 
 Mar Chulaluin Stmtha nan dan ; Lovely as Cul-allin of 
 Strutha of the storms, 
 
 8 Dogs were thought to be sensible of the death of their 
 master, let it happen at ever so great a distance. It was 
 also the opinion of the times, that the arms which warriors 
 left at home, became bloody, when they themselves fell in 
 action. It was from these signs that Cul-allin is supposed 
 
190 NOTES. Canto V, 
 
 to understand that her son is killed ; Her sudden and short 
 exclamation is more judicious in the poet, than if he had 
 extended her complaints to a greater length. The atti- 
 tude of the fallen youth, and Fillan's reflections over him, 
 come forcibly back on the mind, when we consider that 
 the supposed situation of the father of Calmin was so simi- 
 lar to that of Fingal, after the death of Fillan himself* 
 
 XV. 
 
 9, This valley had its name from Clono, son of Lethmal 
 
 .of Lora, one of the ancestors of Dermid. His history is 
 thus related in an old poem. In the days of Conar, the 
 son of Trenmor, the first king of Ireland, Clono passed 
 oyer into that kingdom, from Caledonia, to aid Conar 
 against the Firbolg. Being remarkable for the beauty of 
 his person, he soon drew the attention of Sulmin, the 
 young wife of an Irish chief. She disclosed her passion, 
 which was not properly returned by the Caledonian. The 
 lady sickened, through disappointment; and her love for 
 Clono came to the ears of her husband. Fired with jea- 
 lousy, he vowed revenge. Clono, to avoid his rage, de- 
 parted from Teraora, in order to pass over into Scotland ; 
 and, being benighted in the valley mentioned here, he laid 
 him down to sleep. There Lethmal descended in the dreams 
 of Clono, and told him that danger tvas near. 
 
 Ghost of Lethmal. " Arise from thy bed of moss ; 
 son of lpw-Iaid Lethmal, arise. The sound of the coming 
 ^f foes descends along the wind. 
 
Vanto V. NOTES. 191 
 
 Clono. " Whose voice is that like many streams, in 
 the season of my rest ? 
 
 Ghost of Lethmal. " Arise, thou dweller of the 
 souls of the lovely ; son of Lethmal, arise. 
 
 Clono. " How dreary is the night ! The moon is dark- 
 ened in the sky ; red are the paths of ghosts along its sulr 
 len face ! Green-skirted meteors set around. Dull is the 
 roaring of streams, from the valley of dim forms. I hear 
 thee spirit of my father, on the eddying course of the wind. 
 I hear thee ; but thou bendest not forward thy tall form* 
 from the skirts of night." 
 
 As Clono prepared to depart, the husband of Sulmin 
 came up, with his numerous attendants. Clono defended 
 hiniself, but, after a gallant resistance, he was overpower- 
 ed, and slain. He was buried in the place where he was 
 killed, and the yalley was called after his name. Dermid, 
 in his request to Gaul, alludes to the tomb of Clono, and 
 his own connection with that unfortunate chief. 
 XX. 
 10 The fall of Foldajh, if we may believe tradition, was, 
 predicted to him, before he had left his own country, to join 
 Cairbar in his designs on the Irish throne. He went to the 
 cave of Moma, to enquire, of the spirits of his fathers, 
 concerning the success of the enterprize of Cairbar. The 
 responses of oracles are always attended with obscurity, 
 and liable to a double meaning : Foldath, therefore, put a 
 
192 NOTES. Canto V< 
 
 favourable interpretation on the prediction, and pursued 
 his adopted plan of aggrandizing himself with the family of 
 Atha. 
 
 Foldath, addressing the spirits of his fathers. 
 ." Dark I stand in thy presence; fathers of Foldath, hear. 
 Shall my steps pass over Atha, to Ullin of the rose ? 
 
 The Anstver. 
 " Thy st^ps shall pass over Atha, to the green dwellings 
 of kings. There shall thy stature arise, over the fallen, 
 like a pillar of thunder-clouds. There, terrible in dark- 
 ness, shalt thou stand, till the reflected beam, on Clon-cath 
 of Moruth, come; Moruth of many streams, that roars in 
 distant lands.'' 
 
 Cloncath, or reflected beam, say my traditional authors, 
 was the name of the sword of Fillan ; so that it was in the 
 latent signification of the word Clon-cath, that the decep- 
 tion lay. My principal reason for introducing this note, is, 
 that this tradition serves to show that the religion of the 
 Firbolg differed from that of the Caledonians, as we never 
 find the latter enquiring of the spirits of their deceased an- 
 cestors. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 11 The characters of Foldath and Malthos are both sus- 
 tained. They were both dark and surly, but each in a dif- 
 ferent way. Foldath was impetuous and cruel : Malthos 
 stubborn and inciedulous. Their attachment to the family 
 of Atha was equal ; their bravery in battle the same. Fplf 
 
fkntoW. NOTES. 193 
 
 tlath was vain and ostentatious ; Malthos unindulgent, but 
 generous. His behaviour here, towards his enemy Foldath, 
 shows that a good heart sometimes lies concealed under a 
 gloomy and sullen character. 
 
 " Moma was the name of a country in the south of Con- 
 naught, once famous by being the residence of an Arch- 
 Druid. The cave of Moma was thought to be inhabited 
 by the spirits of the chiefs of the Firbolg, and their poste- 
 rity sent to enquire there, as to an oracle, concerning the 
 issue of their wars. 
 
 13 Dal-ruath, parched or sandy field. The etymology of 
 Dardu-lena is uncertain. The daughter of Foldath was, 
 probably, so called from a place in Ulster, where her father 
 had defeated part of the adherents of Artho, king of Ire- 
 land. Dordu-lena, the dark tvood of Moilena, As Foldath 
 was proud and ostentatious, it would appear that he trans- 
 ferred the name of a place, where he himself had been vic- 
 torious, to his daughter. 
 
 XXIV. 
 14 The suspense in which the mind of the reader is here 
 left, conveys the idea of Fillan's danger, more forcibly 
 than any description that could be introduced. There is a 
 sort, of eloquence in silence with propriety. A minute de- 
 tail of the circumstances of an important scene is generally 
 cold and insipid. The human mind, free, and fond of 
 thinking for itself, is disgusted to find every thing done by 
 the poet. It is, therefore, his business only to mark the 
 
194 NOTES. Canto V. 
 
 most striking outlines, and to allow the imaginations of his 
 readers to supply the rest. 
 
 This Canto ends in the afternoon of the third day from 
 the opening of the poem* 
 
TEMORA: 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This Canto opens with a speech of Fingal, who sees Cathmor descending to 
 the assistance of his flying army. The king dispatches Ossian to the relief 
 of Fillan. He himself retires behind the rock of Cormul, to avoid the sight 
 of the engagement between his son and Cathmor. Ossian advances. The 
 descent of Cathmor described. He rallies the army, renews the battle, and» 
 before Ossian could arrive, engages Fillan himself. Upon the approach of 
 Ossian the combat between the two heroes ceases. Ossian and Cathmor 
 prepare to fight ; but night coming on prevents them. Ossian returns to 
 the place where Cathmor and Fillan fought. He finds Fillan mortally 
 
 e e 
 
196 TEMORA: Canto VI. 
 
 wounded, and leaning against a rock. Their discourse. Fillan dies ; his 
 body is laid, by Ossian, in a neighbouring cave. The Caledonian army re- 
 turn to Fingal. He questions them about his son, and, understanding that 
 he was killed, retires, in silence, to the rock of Cormul. Upon the retreat 
 of the army of Fingal, the Firbolg advance. Cathmor finds Bran, one of 
 Fingal's dogs, lying beside the shield of Fillan, before the entrance of the 
 cave, where the body of Fillan lay. His inflections thereupon. He returns 
 in a melancholy mood, to his army. Malthos endeavours to comfort him 
 by the example of his father, Borbar-duthal. Cathmor retires to rest. 
 The song of Suilmalla concludes the Canto, which ends about the middle 
 ©f the third night, from the opening of the poem, 
 
 i, 
 
 " Great Cathmor rises on his mountain's brow \ 
 Shall Fingal take the sword of Luno, now ? 
 It must not be, white-bosom'd Clatho's son ! — 
 Where then should be the fame thine arm has Won? 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 1.07 
 
 Turn not away thine eyes from Fingal's face, 
 
 Thou daughter fair of Inistore's proud race ! 
 
 I shall not quench thy early beam's young rays. — 
 
 It shines along my soul with cloudless blaze ! 
 
 Rise, woody-skirted Mora ; rise between 
 
 The war and me I wide-stretch thy robe of green ! 
 
 Thou, rocky Cormul spread thy craggy wall. 
 
 Lest Fingal see his dark-hair'd warrior fall ! 
 
 Amidst the song, O Carril, let the sound 
 
 Of thy soft-trembling harp, from woods rebound. 
 
 Loud-echoing rocks here lift their heads on high : 
 
 Bright-tumbling waters from their summits fly. 
 
 Father of Oscar, lift the spear of might ! 
 
 Defend the young in arms, amid the fight. 
 
 Thy steps from Fillan's youthful eye conceal— 
 
 He must not know that Fingal doubts his steel. 
 
 No shady cloud from thy exulting sire, 
 
 Shall rise, my son, to damp thy soul of fire ! 
 
 II. 
 He sunk behind the rock, whilst Carril's lay 5 
 Slelodious, hail'd the -sun's expiring ray. 
 
193 TEMORA: Canto VI. 
 
 With growing soul Temora's x spear I rear'd : 
 And soon Moilena's ghastly plain appear'd. 
 The strife of death ; — wide-tumbling battle's sound ;— 
 The raging host, disjoin'd and broke around, — 
 In wild confusion, now spread o'er the ground ! 
 From wing to wing is Fillan's wasteful course : 
 Like ravening fire he glows with gathering force ! 
 The gleaming ridges melt before his shield ; 
 And roll in smoke from off the trembling field J 
 
 III. 
 Now is the coming forth of Erin's king ! 
 Dark o'er his helmet waves the eagle's wing. 
 Bright is his armour : unconcern'd his pace ; 
 As if proceeding to the harmless chase ! 
 The hero's loud terrific words resound. 
 Erin, abash'd, now quickly gathers round. 
 Their souls return. Again they lift the spear, 
 They wonder at their former steps of fear ! 
 Thus does the beam of gladd'ning morn arise* 
 To the pale traveller's darkly-bending eyes, 
 
€anto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 199 
 
 When on the haunted heath it lays the storms, 
 And clears the field of wild horrific forms j 
 Suilmalla's shuddering soul now feels the shock !— • 
 Her trembling steps are from Moilena's rock. 
 But, in the lovely maiden's sad advance, 
 A mountain-oak-tree caught her feeble lance. 
 Half-bent she stands. Her tears of anguish flow ! 
 On Atha's king she turns her eye of woe ! 
 No friendly strife is now before thee, maid ! — 
 No light-contending bows, along the glade ; 
 As when, beneath thy father's smiling eyes, 
 The youth of Cluba a proudly claim'd the prize ! 
 
 IV. 
 As Runo's rock, which takes the passing cloud, 
 Seems growing, in its darkly-gather'd shroud, 
 And, greatly towering o'er the streamy heath, 
 Wide-spreads its shadow on the plain beneath j 
 So taller still does Atha's chief appear, 
 As flock his host around their hero's spear ! 
 As different blasts, which, whistling from the sky, 
 £ach to its own dark wave, with fury fly; 
 
200 TEMORA: Canto YL 
 
 So mighty Cathmor's words his people guide, 
 And pour his warriors forth on every side. 
 Nor is young Fillan silent in the field ; 
 His voice he mixes with his echoing shield. 
 He seems an eagle, burning |br his prey, 
 High on the rock amid the blaze of day :— 
 With sounding wing he calls the lingering gale, 
 When he beholds the roes on Lutha's 3 vale. 
 
 V. 
 Forward in battle, with fresh rage, they bend. — 
 Death's hundred hideous voices now ascend ! 
 With fiery ardour — with bold martial pride, 
 The kings inspire their hosts on either side. 
 I bound along. And now each rock—each tree — 
 Seems, tall, to rush between the war and me. 
 But still, between my clanging arms, I hear 
 The noise of steel !— the deadly-clashing spear ! 
 The rising ground I gain'd, and dark-espied 
 The backward steps of hosts, on either side. 
 Wild were their eyes, — and still the swords of might • 
 The two blue-shielded kings were met in fight ! 
 
Canto VL AN EPIC POEM. 201 
 
 Now dark and tail, through steel's terrific sheen j 
 The striving heroes on the plain are seen. 
 I rush'd— I fled — my burning soul arose ! 
 Lest Clatho's son should perish 'midst his foes ! 
 
 VI. 
 I come. Nor Cathmor stands ; nor yet he flies ; 
 He side-long stalks along, with downcast eyes. 
 A torpid, icy rock, cold, tall, he seems ! — 
 I call forth all my steel, 'midst evening's beams. 
 A rushing stream our hostile steps divides; j 
 Silent awhile we stride on its green sides : 
 Then, sudden, round upon the heath we veer, 
 And raise at once the dire destroying spear. 
 We raise our pointed spears, but night comes down ; — 
 The darkening clouds o'er wide Moilena frown ! 
 Silence, and gathering gloom, around us reign ; 
 Save where the distant hosts sound o'er the plain. 
 
 VII. 
 To where young Fillan fought I quick repair. 
 I find him not ; nor voice, nor sound, is there. 
 
202 TEMORA: Canto VI. 
 
 A broken helmet lies upon the plain : 
 And now I see a buckler cleft in twain. 
 « The strife is o'er : where Fillan, dost thou stay ?— 
 Young chief of echoing Morven, prithee, say !" 
 He hears me, leaning 'gainst a rocky hill, 
 Which rudely bends its grey head o'er the rill. 
 He hears ; but sullen, dark, he stands in night. 
 At length I saw the hero with delight ! 
 
 VIII. 
 " Say, noble youth ! say, woody Selma's son, 
 Why, robed in darkness, standest thou alone ? 
 In lengthen'd strife didst thou thy weapon wield : 
 Bright has thy path been on the dark-brown field ! 
 Now Fingal's horn is heard. His feast attend ; 
 Come : to the cloud of thy great sire ascend. 
 High in the evening's mist now sits the king, 
 And hears the sound of Carril's trembling string. 
 Then don't delay the joy thy presence yields, 
 To thy fond sire, young breaker of the shields \" 
 
Canto Vh AN EPIC POEM. 203 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Ah ! can the vanquish'd yield or joy or pride:— 
 Or tranquil sit by mighty Fingal's side ! 
 Nay, Ossian ! nay ; thy brother bears no shield !— r 
 Behold, it there lies broken on the field ! 
 Cleft is my helmet: — torn its eagle-wing! — 
 Could Fillan thus appear before the king? 
 It is when vanquish'd hosts before them fly, 
 That fathers with delight their sons descry. 
 But with a secret sigh their bosom grows*, 
 When their young warriors yield to stormy foes ! 
 No ! Fillan must not thus behold the king. 
 Why should the hero mourn the shame I bring?" 
 
 X. 
 " O Clatho's son, awake not Ossian's soul ! 
 Why, Fillan, thus let grief thy heart control? 
 Nay, wert thou not a brightly-burning fire 
 Before the eyes of thy exulting sire? 
 Then shall he not rejoice to see his son, 
 With all the fame that youthful arm has won ? 
 
 Ff 
 
20> TEMORA : Canto VI 
 
 Such fame is not to Ossian ; yet the king 
 
 Is still a sun to bright my eagle's wing ! 
 
 He views my steps with joy. Ne'er shadows rise 
 
 To cloud his brow, when Ossian he espies. 
 
 Ascend, O Fillan, — come to Mora's height. 
 
 His feast is spread in folds of misty night." 
 
 XL 
 Ci O Ossian ! give me here that broken shield : 
 Those feathers that now roll along the field [ 
 Place them near Fillan ;— place them near his side, 
 That some faint glimmer of his fame abide i 
 Ossian, I fail ! I feel death's chilling shock ! 
 Lay me, my brother, in that hollow rock. 
 But let no stone my humble tomb proclaim; 
 Lest they enquire about the fallen's fame. 
 Alas 1 O fortune, early didst thou frown ! 
 In my first field I fall, — without renown ! 
 Let thy voice, only, in my praises roll;— 
 Do thou alone rejoice my flying soul ! 
 Why should the bard that fameless spot despise, 
 Where the lost beam of blue-eyed Clatho 4 lies !" 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 205 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Then is thy spirit on the eddying wind ? 
 
 Art thou, O Fillan, in death's grasp entwin'd? 
 
 Young breaker of the shields ! wilt thou ne'er show 
 
 Thy fearless bosom to the shrinking foe ? 
 
 May joy pursue my hero, as he flies, 
 
 Through folded clouds, to mount the azure skies ! 
 
 Thy fathers' forms, O Fillan, now come down, 
 
 And bend them forward to receive their son ! 
 I see their spreading fires on Mora's height ; — 
 The bright blue-rolling of their wreaths in night. 
 Joy meet my brother ! Be thy spirit clad 
 With purest bliss ! — But we are dark and sad ! 
 Around the aged I behold the foe — ■ 
 I see his wasting fame ! — his hero low ! 
 Yes ; Selma's grey-hair'd king, thy Fillan's gone i 
 Now, in thy latter field thou'n left alone 1" 
 
 XIII. 
 With swelling heart I laid him in the cave, 
 Nigh to the mighty stream's deep-roaring wave. 
 
206 TEMORA : Canto VI. 
 
 One red star look'd in on his flinty bed; 
 At times the breezes crept around his head. 
 Close to the youth I place my listening ear — 
 No sound — no breath — -no secret sigh — I hear \ 
 The warrior slept ! . * * * * 
 As on a cloud the blue-wing'd lightnings roll, 
 A thought now rush'd along my troubled soul. 
 My fiery eyes a burning rage reveal : — 
 My angry strides are in the clang of steel : 
 " Thee will I find, O king of Erin's land ! — 
 Amid thy thousands thou shalt feel my hand ! 
 "Why should the cloud that quench'd our early beam 
 Escape to see another morning gleam ! 
 Kindle your meteors on your hills, my sires! 
 Light Ossian's daring steps with your blue fires \ 
 I will consume in wrath ! s # * * 
 But should I fall, the king must vent his woes 
 "Without a son ; grey-hair'd amongst his foes ! 
 His arm is not as in the days of old., 
 His fame grows dim. He's childless ! — unconsol'd f 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 207 
 
 Then let them not behold proud Selma's shield 
 
 Cast down ! unaided, in his latter field ! — 
 
 But how can Ossian to the king return ? — 
 
 How ean he see the aged hero mourn ? 
 
 No ! rather let my steps his presence shun I 
 
 Will he not ask about his dark-hair'd son ! 
 
 " Thou oughtest to defend young Fillan !" * * 
 
 # . # # # # * * 
 
 Ossian will meet the foe, — tho' death were near ! 
 
 Erin ! thy tread is pleasant to my ear ! 
 
 I rush upon the ridgy host to fly 
 
 Thy voice, O Fingal ! thine o'erflowing eye ! 
 
 I hear the king ; from Mora's misty height, 
 He calls his two sons to the feast of night.— - 
 I go, my father ; in my grief I go ; — 
 To see thee weep ! — to witness thy dark woe! 
 An eagle spoil'd of half his wings I seem, 
 Met in the desert by the lightning's stream ! 
 
TEMORAj Canto Vh 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Distant, 6 around the king on Mora, stand 
 
 The broken ridges of green Selma's band. 
 
 They turn their eyes : — they fear to meet his glance ; 
 
 Each darkly leaning on his ashen lance. 
 
 Silent amid the gloomy group he stood, 
 
 And with his piercing eyes each visage view'd. 
 
 Thought follows thought ; and o'er his swelling soul 
 
 The sickening clouds of sad suspense now roll : 
 
 *As on a mountain-lake rough billows roam, 
 
 Wave after wave, each with its back of foam. 
 
 He look'd. His cheek was moisten'd with a tear.-— 
 
 No son appear'd with his long beaming spear ! 
 
 In deep-fetch'd sighs his bosom sought relief: 
 
 The hero trembled ; but conceal'd his grief. 
 
 Darkly I came. No voice of mine was rais'd : 
 
 In speechless stare I on the hero gazed. 
 
 My heart was full ! — I saw his tears o'erflow I 
 
 What could I say to Fingal in his woe ! 
 
 * Reader, I fancy you had better leave out this couplet : — tho* taken 
 from the original. 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 209 
 
 At length his bursting soul the silence broke. 
 
 The host shrunk backward as the monarch spoke 1 1 
 
 XV. 
 " Where is the son of Selma's hopes," he said, 
 " Who in the war, with matchless valour, led ? 
 I miss my child ! I miss the youthful shield, 
 That screen'd my people in the stormy field ! 
 Fell the young bounding roe, who lately stray'd, 
 So stately on my hills, o'er rock and glade ? 
 He fell ! for ye are silent. Yes ! he's slain ! 
 Alas ! the shield of war is cleft in twain ! — 
 Bring me my armour. Bring me Selma's spear; 
 And let the dark-brown Luna's sword be near. 
 I'm wak'd upon my hills : with morning's gleam 
 Shall Fingal's weapon in the combat beam." 
 
 XVI. 
 Aloft 8 on Cormul's rock, a flaming oak 
 Intwines its blaze with deeply-folding smoke. 
 The dark-grey skirts of mist are rolFd around ; 
 And dewy night o'erspreads the sable ground. 
 Thither does Fingal, in his ire, ascend, 
 Whilst Morven's sons in silent sorrow bend. 
 
210 TEMORA: Canto VI, 
 
 For distant from the host the king retired, 
 When thoughts of strife his burning soul inspired. 
 On two tall spears high-hung his bossy shield : 
 The gleaming sign of death was now reveal'd ! 
 That shield which he was wont to strike by night, 
 Before he rush'd to lead the rueful fight. 
 'Twas then his warriors knew that he'd command 
 The conquering tribes of cloudy Morven's land ; 
 For, never was this buckler heard to ring, 
 'Till wrath had rous'd the soul of Selma's king. 
 Unequal were his steps, as tall he strode, 
 And brightly glisten'd when the oak-tree glow'd. 
 Dreadful was he, as when a mountain-sprite, 
 Clothes his wild gestures with the mist of night, 
 And, issuing forth on troubled ocean's waves, 
 Mounts the winds' car, and in the lightning raves. 
 
 XVII. 
 Nor settled yet is Erin's sea of war ! 
 O'er Lubar's dark-brown plain they spread afar. 
 Beneath the moon they glitter bright in shields, 
 j^nd, still, low-humming, roll along the fields, 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM 2U 
 
 Alone, before them mighty Cathmor glides ; 
 
 Wide on the heath are seen his lengthy strides. 
 
 Loudly in all his rattling arms he clangs, 
 
 And on the flying host of Morven hangs. 
 
 Now had he to the mossy cavern come, 
 
 Where Selma's hero lay in nightly gloom. 
 
 One tree bent o'er the stream, whose murmur deep 
 
 Seem'd, o'er its rock, for Fillan's fall to weep ! 
 
 There to the moon the broken buckler shone, — 
 The bloody shield of blue-eyed Clatho's son ! 
 
 Near to it lay the hairy-footed Bran. — 9 
 The faithful dog o'er wide Moilena ran : 
 He miss'd the dark-hair'd chief on Mora's height. 
 And search'd him out along the wind of night. 
 Then to the cave, with crouching gait, he crept — ? 
 He thought the blue-eyed hunter only slept ! 
 No blast came o'er the heath, — no foot was near, 
 Unknown to bounding Bran's uplifted ear. 
 
 XVIII. 
 King Cathmor saw the snow-white breasted hound ; 
 pe saw the broken shield lie on the ground. 
 
 Gg 
 
212 TEMORA: Canto Vh 
 
 He felt, while gazing on the fatal spot, 
 
 How transient man ! — how fleeting is his lot ! 
 
 f* They come, a stream ! — are quickly roll'd away; 
 
 Another race succeeds when they decay. 
 
 But some resign their breath without their fame : 
 
 Some mark the field with their own mighty name. 
 
 The heath is theirs, while dark-brown years glide o'er. 
 
 To their renown some blue stream winds its roar. 
 
 Of these be Cathmor's, when on earth he lies — - 
 
 Oft* may the voice of future ages rise. 
 
 And in soft numbers gladdening praises bear 
 
 To his light spirit, thro* the liquid air ; 
 
 When, tall, from wind to wind he proudly strides, 
 
 Or in the storm's dark wing his spectre hides/' 
 
 XIX. 
 Green Erin gather'd round the king, to hear 
 His voice of power, so pleasant to their ear ! 
 Their joyful faces forward bend in night, 
 And shine amid the oak-tree's yellow light. 
 JNo hand of terror in their presence gleams : 
 ^Thro' their glad host again wind JLubar's I0 streams. 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 213 
 
 Brave Cathmor was a beam of heaven, whose ray 
 Soon chang'd their darkness to reflulgent day ! 
 Honour'd was he, and loved amid his band : 
 Their souls arose at their great king's command ! 
 In him, alone, no stormy joy we view ; 
 To him to fight, — to conquer, — was not new ! 
 
 XX. 
 Said Malthos, " why is Erin's king so sad ? 
 Is not our chief with victory now clad ? 
 At Lubar's wave is there a foe to fear ? 
 Lives there among them who can lift the spear ? 
 Thy father Borbar-duthal, was not so : " 
 Great his rejoicing o'er the fallen foe : — * 
 His rage — a fire that never ceas'd to glow ! 
 Three days the hero drain'd the festive shell, 
 When told that Calmar in the combat fell : 
 Calmar who aided Ullin's hostile band ;— * 
 The race that came from Lara's streamy land. 
 Often did Atha's grey-hair'd chieftain feel, 
 With eager hands, and smiles, the conquering steel ; 
 
214 TEMORA : Canto Vl 
 
 The weapon which they said bad pierc'd his foe, — 
 Had laid the strength of hated Calmar low ! 
 He felt it with his hands, with fond delight, 
 For, Borbar-duthal's eyes had sunk in night. 
 Yet was the king a sun to all his friends * — 
 A gale which round the drooping branches bends. 
 Illuming joy his echoing halls did cheer ! 
 To him brave Bolp^s sons were ever dear. 
 On Atha's hills, — on Atha's grassy plains, — > 
 The recollection of his name remains ; 
 Like to the awful memory of ghosts, 
 Who one day shone amid embattled hosts ; 
 Whose presence fill'd the foe with pale dismay, 
 And quickly blew the storm of death away \ 
 Now let green Erin's voices " sweetly roll, 
 And brightly raise the king's' o'ershadow'd souL 
 He that appear'd when war was dark and deep. 
 And laid the mighty low, in death's cold sleep \ 
 Fonar, from that gray rock, now pour the tale 
 Of other times, on Lubar's darken'd vale $ 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 215 
 
 Now thro' wide-skirted Erin let it sound, 
 While her victorious sons are spread around." 
 
 XXL 
 M No song shall now resound to Cathmor's ear, 
 Nor Fonar's harp on Lubar's rock appear. 
 The mighty are laid low. Let not our boasts 
 Disturb, or triumph o'er, their rushing ghosts. IJ 
 Far, Malthos, far remove green Erin's song: 
 Spread not pale sorrow on the fluttering throng. 
 Ne'er shall my joy o'er fallen foes appear, 
 When they have ceas'd to lift the gleaming spear. 
 With morning's dawn we pour abroad our might, 
 Fingal is rous'd on Cormul's I4 rocky height.'* 
 
 XXII. 
 Like waves blown back, when sudden wind transpires, 
 The host of Erin at his voice retires. 
 And now, within the vale of night deep-roli'd. 
 The humming tribes their crowded mass unfold. 
 At intervals, each bard, IS beneath his oak, 
 Took the glad harp, and night's dull silence broke, 
 
216 TEMORA; Canto VL 
 
 They rais'd the song, and struck the trembling stringy 
 
 Each to the chieftain whom he lov'd to sing. 
 
 The fair Suilmalla now alone delay'd. 
 
 A burning oak her lovely form display'd. 
 
 She softly touch'd the harp, with pensive air, 
 
 While dewy vapour cloth'd her flowing hair. 
 
 In darkness roll'd, green Atha's king lay near ; 
 
 Beneath an aged tree he lent an ear. 
 
 The fire blazed bright: Suilmalla stood between; 
 
 He saw the maid, but was by her unseen. 
 
 The hero's soul pour'd forth the secret sigh, 
 
 "When he beheld her love-inspiring eye \ 
 
 " But strife, O Borbar-duthal's son, is near; 
 
 Tho' dear thy maid, thou holdest Erin's spear V* 
 
 XXIII. 
 At intervals she stopt the plaintive sound, 
 To hear if every breath was lull'd around. 
 Her soul o'erflows ; the tears her bosom strain : 
 She longs to pour her melancholy stain. 
 Silent the field. . The feeble blasts of night 
 Had now, from Lubar, wing'd their misty flight. 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 217 
 
 The bards had ceased ; and glowing meteors came, 
 Red-winding with their ghosts, in short-lived flame. 
 The sky grew dark : the fleeting forms of dead, 
 Deep-blended with their clouds, round Lubar spread. 
 But not to these the blue-eyed maid attends ; 
 O'er the decaying flame she heedless bends. 
 It is in thee, O Atha's car-borne chief, 
 Her soul seeks joy, — her lonely heart relief ! 
 She rais'd the song, amid the gloomy scene, 
 And sweetly touch'd the warbling harp between. 
 XXIV. 
 Suilmalla's Song. 
 " Clungalo 16 has now miss'd her daughter. 
 
 c Where art thou my bright beam of light ? 
 Ye hunters, O say, have ye sought her ? 
 
 O saw ye my fair one in flight? 
 Are her light steps on Lumon's green mountain, 
 
 Near the bed of the high-bounding roe ? 
 Or seeks she the clear crystal fountain ?— 
 
 Ah me ! — in the hall hangs her bow ! 
 
VIS . TEMORA: Canto VI. 
 
 Fly quickly ! and spread, before night comes, 
 
 Thro* thicket — thro' forest — thro' glade ! 
 P find where my bright beam of light roams — 
 
 Suilmalla, my young blue-eyed maid ! ' 
 XXV. 
 * s Cease 17 love of Conmor, cease ; thy plaints are vain ' 
 
 Far, far from thee, on ridgy heath I wander. 
 A hapless maiden on the death-strew'd plain! 
 
 Alas ! my mother, on thy woes I ponder. 
 Sleep calms the stormy host; and thee, my king! 
 
 Thou seest not thy Suilmalla round thee hover : 
 Thou hear'st her not now touch the trembling string, 
 
 And weep the dangers of her fearless lover ! 
 Beep-bosom'd in the cloud of war he stands ; 
 
 No glance on his forlorn Suilmalla beaming ; — 
 No sigh her friendless — piteous plight commands; — 
 
 No tear her eye— with sorrow's torrent streaming ! 
 Sun of my soul ! why dost thou not behold ? 
 
 I dwell in darkness here— no ray to cheer me ! 
 Wide o'er me flies the shadowy, misty, cold : 
 
 Fill'd with the dew my locks ; — whilst thou art near me ! 
 
Canto VI. AN EPIC POEM. 21 9 
 
 Look from thy cloud, my sun ! thy beams expand ; 
 
 Illume the path of Conmor's lonely daughter, 
 Who watches o'er thee in a strangers' land : — 
 
 Disperse the gloom to which her love has brought her !'* 
 
 END OF THE SIXTH CANTO. 
 
 Hh 
 
NOTES 
 
 THE SIXTH CANTO. 
 
 II. 
 
 * The Spear of Temora was that which Oscar had re- 
 ceived from young Cormac, the king of Ireland. It was 
 of it Cairbar made the pretext for quarrelling with Osc ar, 
 at the feast, in the first Canto. 
 
 III. 
 
 * Cluba, 'winding ban ; an arm of the sea in Inis-huna. 
 It was in this bay that Cathmor was wind bound when SuiL/ 
 malla came, in disguise, to accompany him in his voyage 
 to Ireland. Cormor, her father, as is insinuated at the 
 close of the fourth Canto, was dead before the departure 
 of his daughter. 
 
 IV. 
 3 Lutha was the name of a valley in Morven. There 
 dwelt Toscar, the son of Conloch, the father of Malvina, 
 who, on that accouut, is often called the Maid of Lutha. 
 ]Uitha signifies swift stream. 
 
£22 NOTES. Canto VL 
 
 XI. 
 
 * A dialogue between Clatho, the mother, and Bos- 
 mina, the sister of Fillan. Clatho, " Daughter of Fin- 
 gal arise ! thou light between thy locks. Lift thy fair head 
 from rest, soft-gliding sun-beam of Selma ! I beheld thy 
 arms on thy breast, white tossed amidst thy wandering 
 locks; when the rustling breeze of the mqrning came from 
 the desert of streams. Hast thou seen thy fathers, Bos- 
 mina, descending in thy dreams ? Arise, daughter of 
 Clatho ; dwells there aught of grief in thy soul , ? 
 
 Bosmina. " A thin form passed before me, fading as 
 it flew : like the darkening wave of a breeze, along a field 
 of grass. Descend, from thy wall, O harp, and calj back 
 the soul of Bosmina, it has rolled away, like a stream. 
 I hear thy pleasant sound. I hear thee, O harp, and my 
 voice shall rise. 
 
 *' How often shall ye rush to war, ye dwellers of my 
 soul? Your paths are distant, kings of men, in Erin of 
 blue streams. Lift thy wing, thou southern breeze, from 
 Clono's darkened heath : spread the sails of Fingal towards 
 the bays of his land, 
 
 '« But who is that, in his strength, darkening in the 
 presence of war ? His arm stretches to the foe, like the 
 beam of the sickly sun : when his side is crusted with dark- 
 ness; and he rolls his dismal course through the sky. 
 Who is it but the father of Bosmina I Shall he return Hill 
 danger is past ? 
 
Canto VI. NOTES. 223 
 
 «' Fillan, thou art a beam by his side ; beautiful, but 
 terrible, is thy light. Thy sword is before thee, a blue 
 fire of night. When shalt thou return to thy roes ; to the 
 streams of thy rushy fields i When shail I behold thee 
 from Mora, while winds strew my long locks on their blasts! 
 But shall a young eagle return from the field where the 
 heroes fall ! 
 
 Clatho. " Soft, as the song of Loda, is the voice of 
 Selma's maid. Pleasant to the ear of Clatho, is the name 
 of the breaker of shields. Behold the king comes from 
 ocean : the shield of Morven is borne by bards. The foe 
 is fled before him, like the departure of mist. I hear not 
 the sounding wings of my eagle ; the rushing forth of the 
 son of Clatho. Thou art dark, O Fingal ; shall the warrior 
 never return ?"****#. 
 XIII. 
 
 s Here the sentence is designedly left unfinished. The 
 sense is, that he was resolved, like a destroying fire, to 
 consume Cathmor, who had killed his brother. In the 
 midst of this resolution, the situation of Fingal suggests 
 itself to him, in a very strong light. He resolves to return, 
 to assist him in prosecuting the war. But then his shame, 
 for not defending his brother, occurs to him. He is deter- 
 mined, again, to go and find out Cathmor. We may con- 
 sider him as in the act of advancing towards the enemy, 
 when the horn of Fingal sounded on Mora, and called back 
 his people to his presence. This soliloquy is natural : the 
 
NOTES. Canto VI 
 
 resolutions which so suddenly follow one another, are ex- 
 pressive of a mind extremely agitated with sorrow and con- 
 scious of shame ; yet the behaviour of Ossian, in his exe- 
 cution of the commands of Fingal, is so irreprehensible, 
 that it is not easy to determine where he failed in his duty. 
 XIV. 
 
 6 " This scene," says an ingenious writer, " is solemn. 
 The poet always places his chief character amidst objects 
 which favour the sublime. The face of the country, the 
 night, the broken remains of a defeated army, and, above 
 all, the attitude and silence of Fingal himself, are circum- 
 stances calculated to impress an awful idea on the mind. 
 Ossian is most successful in his night descriptions. Dark 
 images suited the melancholy temper of his mind. His 
 poems were all composed after the active part of his life 
 was over, when he was blind, and had survived all the 
 companions of his youth : we therefore find a veil of melan- 
 choly thrown over the whole.*' 
 
 7 I owe the first paragraph of the following note to the 
 same pen : 
 
 M The abashed behaviour of the army of Fingal proceeds 
 rather from shame than fear. The king was not of a tyran- 
 nical disposition : He, as he professes himself in the fifth 
 book, never was a dreadful form, in their presence, darken- 
 ed into wrath. His voice was no thunder in their ears ; his 
 eye sent forth no death. The first ages of society were not 
 the times of arbitrary power. As the wants of mankind 
 
Canto Vl NOTES, 225 
 
 are few they retain their independence. It is an advanced 
 state of civilization that moulds the mind to that submis- 
 sion to government, of which ambitious magistrates take 
 advantage, and raise themselves to absolute power.'' It is 
 a vulgar error, that the common Highlanders lived in ab- 
 ject slavery, under their chiefs. Their high ideas of, and 
 attachment to, the heads of their families, probably, led 
 the unintelligent into this mistake. When the honour of 
 the tribe was concerned, the commands of the chief were 
 obeyed without restriction ; but, if individuals were op- 
 pressed, they threw themselves into the arms of a neigh- 
 bouring clan, assumed a new name, and were encouraged 
 and protected. The fear of this desertion, no doubt, made 
 the chiefs cautious in their government. As their conse- 
 quence, in the eyes of others, was in proportion to the- 
 number of their people, they took care to avoid every 
 thing that tended to diminish it. 
 
 It was but very lately that the authority of the laws ex- 
 tended to the Highlands. Before that time the clans were 
 governed, in civil affairs, not by the verbal commands of 
 the chief, buc by what they called Clechda, or the tradi^ 
 tional precedents of their ancestors* When differences 
 happened between individuals, some of the oldest men in 
 the tribe were chosen umpires between the parties, to de- 
 cide according to the Clechda. The chief interposed his 
 authority, and, invariably, enforced the decision. In their 
 ware, which were frequent on account of family feuds, the 
 
226 NOTES. Canto VI. 
 
 chief was less reserved in the execution of his authority ; 
 but even then, he seldom extended it to the taking away 
 the life of any of his tribe. No crime was capital except 
 murder ; and that was very unfrequent in the Highlands. 
 No corporal punishment, of any kind, was inflicted. The 
 memory of an affront of this sort would remain for ages in 
 a family, and they would seize every opportunity of re- 
 venge, unless it came immediately from the hands of the 
 chief himself; in that case it was taken rather as a fatherly 
 correction, than a legal punishment of offences. 
 XVI. 
 8 The rock of Cormul is often mentioned in the precede 
 ing part of the poem. It was on it Fingal and Ossian 
 stood to view the battle. The custom of retiring from the 
 army, on the night prior to their engaging in battle, was 
 universal among the kings of the Caledonians. Trenraor* 
 the most renowned of the ancestors of Fingal, is mention- 
 ed as the first who instituted this custom. Succeeding 
 bards attributed it to a hero of a later period. In an old 
 poem, which begins with Mac-Arcath na cend frol, this 
 custom of retiring from the army, before an engagement* 
 is numbered among the wise institutions of Fergus, the 
 son Arch or Arcath, the first king of the Scots. I shall 
 here translate the passage : in another note I may, pro- 
 bably, give ail that remains of the poem. Fergus of the 
 hundred streams, son of Arcath, mho fought of old ; thou 
 didst frst retire at night ; when the foe rolled before thee, in 
 
Canto VI. NOTES. 227 
 
 echoing fields. Nor bending in rest is the king : he gathers 
 battles in his soul. Fly, son of the stranger ! xvith morn he 
 shall rash abroad. When, or by whom, this poem was 
 written, is uncertain. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 9 T remember to have met with an old poem, wherein 
 a story of this sort is very happily introduced. In one of 
 the invasions of the Danes, Ullin-clundu, a considerable 
 chief on the western coast of Scotland, was killed in a ren- 
 counter with a flying party of the enemy, who had landed 
 at no great distance from his place of residence. The few 
 followers who attended him were also slain. The young 
 wife of Ullin-clundu, who had not heard of his fall, fear- 
 ing the worst, on account of his long delay, alarmed the 
 rest of his tribe, who went in search of him along the shore. 
 They did not find him : and the beautiful widow became 
 disconsolate. At length he was discovered, by means of 
 his dog, who sat on the rock beside the body, for some 
 days. The stanza concerning the dog, whose name was 
 Du-chos, or Black-foot, is descriptive. 
 
 " Dark-sided Du-chos ! feet of wind ! cold is thy seat on 
 rocks. He sees the roe ; his ears are high ; and half he 
 bounds away. He looks around; but Ullin sleeps; he droops 
 again his head. The winds come past; dark Du-chos 
 thinks that Ullin's voice is there. But still he beholds him 
 silent, laid amidst the waving heath. Dark-sided Du-chos, 
 his voice no more shall send thee over the heath !" 
 
 I i 
 
228 NOTES. Canto VL 
 
 XIX. 
 
 10 In order to illustrate this passage, it is proper to Jay 
 before the reader the scene of the two preceding battles. 
 Between the two hills of Mora and Lona, lay the plain of 
 Moilena, through which ran the river Lubar. The first 
 battle, wherein Gaul, the son of Morni, commanded on 
 the Caledonian side, was fought on the banks of Lubar. 
 As there was little advantage obtained on either side, the 
 armies, after the battle, retained their former positions. 
 In the second battle, wherein Fillan commanded, the Irish, 
 after the fall of Foldath, were driven up the hill of Lona; 
 but, upon the coming of Cathmor to their aid, they re- 
 gained their former situation, and drove back the Caledo- 
 nians, in their turn, so that Lubar minded again in their host. 
 
 XX. 
 
 11 Borbar-duthal, the father of Cathmor, was the bro- 
 ther of that Colc-ulla, who, in the beginning of the fourth 
 Canto, is said to have rebelled against Cormac, king of 
 Ireland. Borbar-duthal seems to have retained all the pre- 
 judice of his family against the succession of the posterity 
 of Conar, on the Irish throne. From this short episode we 
 learn some facts which tend to throw light on the history 
 of the times. It appears that, when Swaran invaded Ire- 
 land, he was only opposed by the Cael, who possessed Ul- 
 ster, and the north of that island. Calmar, the son of 
 Matha, whose gallant behaviour and death are related m 
 the third book of Fingal, was the only chief of the race of 
 
Canto IV, NOTES. 229 
 
 tbe Firbolg, that joined the Gael, or Caledonian Irish, 
 during the invasion of Swaran. The indecent joy which 
 Borbar-duthal expressed, upon the death of Calmar, is 
 well suited with that spirit of revenge which subsist- 
 ed, universally, in every country where the feudal 
 system was established. It would appear that some person 
 had carried to Borbar-duthal that weapon with which it 
 was pretended Calmar had been killed. 
 
 12 The voices of Erin, a poetical expression for the bards 
 of Ireland. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 13 It would seem, from Cathmor refusing to permit 
 Fonar to perform on the harp, or recite, so near to the 
 scene of the late engagement, that the prejudice of the 
 times led him to imagine that the ghosts of his departed 
 enemies (who, as will appear from the succeeding Canto, 
 were supposed to flutter in a thick mist, over the ground 
 where they had fallen, until their funeral song was sung,) 
 would be grieved to hear their joy and exultation. 
 
 • x * Cathmor might be supposed to know that FingaJ 
 was to command in the next battle, by the unusual appear- 
 ance of a fire on the rock of Cormul, apart from the rest of , 
 his army. Doubtless, all Fingal's customs in war were 
 well known to Cathmor. 
 
 XXII. 
 a * Not only the kings, but every petty chief had, an- 
 ciently, their bards attending them in the field ; and those 
 
230 NOTES. Canto VI. 
 
 bards, in proportion to the power of the chiefs who retain- 
 ed them, had a number of inferior bards in their train. 
 Upon solemn occasions, all the bards in the army would 
 join in one chorus ; either when they celebrated their vie* 
 tories, or lamented the death of a person worthy and re- 
 nowned, slain in the w T ar. The words were the composi- 
 tion of the Arch-bard, retained by the king himself, who 
 generally attained to that high office on account of his su- 
 perior genius for poetry. As the persons of the bards were 
 sacred, and the emoluments of their office considerable, 
 the order, in succeeding times, became very numerous 
 and indolent. It would appear, that, after the introduce 
 tion of Christianity, some served in the double capacity of 
 bards and clergymen. It was from this circumstance that 
 they had the name of Chlere, which is, probably derived 
 from the Latin Clericus. The Chlere, be their name deriv- 
 ed from what it will, became, at last, a public nuisance, 
 for taking advantage of their sacred character, they went 
 about, in great bodies, and lived, at discretion, in the 
 houses of the chiefs ; till another party, of the same order, 
 drove them away by mere dint of satire. Some of the in- 
 delicate disputes of these worthy poetical combatants are 
 Jianded down by tradition, and show how much the bards, 
 at last, abused the privileges, which the admiration of 
 their countrymen had conferred on the order. It was 
 this hWent behaviour that induced the chiefs to retrench 
 fheir number, and to take away those privileges, which 
 
Canto VI. NOTES. 231 
 
 they were no longer worthy to enjoy. Their indolence, 
 and disposition to lampoon, extinguished all the poetical 
 fervour which distinguished their predecessors, and make 
 us the less regret the extinction of the order. 
 XXIV. 
 
 16 Clungalo, the wife of Conmor, king of Inis-huna, and 
 mother of Suilmalla. She is here represented as missing 
 her daughter, after she had fled with Cathmor. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 17 Suilmalla replies to the supposed questions of her mo- 
 ther. Towards the middle of this stanza, she calls Cath- 
 mor the sun of her soul, and continues the metaphor through- 
 out. This Canto ends, we may suppose, about the middle 
 of the third night from the opening of the poem. 
 
TEMOR A t 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 This Canto begins about the middle of the third night from the opening of 
 the poem. The poet describes a kind of mist, which rose by night from 
 the lake of Lego, and was the usual residence of the souls of the dead, 
 during the interval between their decease and the funeral song. The ap- 
 pearance of the ghost of Fillan above the cave where the body lay. His 
 voice comes to Fingal on the rock of Cormul. The king strikes the shield 
 of Trenmor, which was an infallible sign of his appearing in arms himself* 
 The extraordinary effect of the sound of the shield. Suilmalla starting in 
 terror, awakes Cathmor. Their affecting discourse. She begs him to sue 
 for peace ; he resolves to continue the war. lie directs her to retire to the 
 neighbouring valley of Lona, which was the residence of an old Druid, un- 
 til the battle of the next day should be over. He awakes his army with 
 
234? TEMORA: Canto Vll. 
 
 the sound of his shield. The shield described. Fonar, the bard, at the 
 desire of Cathmor, relates the first settlement of the Firbolg in Ireland, 
 under their leader Larthon. Morning comes. Suilmalla retires to the 
 valley of Lona. A lyric song concludes the Canto. 
 
 £5» This Canto is versified from a literal translation, which The Med. Dr 
 Graham, Minister of Aberfoyle, published in his " Essay on the authenti- 
 city of Poems of Ossian." His translation was taken from the Gaelic that 
 Mr Macpherson gave as a specimen of the original. 
 
 The versifier has taken but feio liberties with Dr Graham's text : but, in many 
 places, it will be found very different from Mr Macpherson's translation. 
 
 I. 
 
 .From where wood-skirted Lego's pool extends, 
 The waves* blue-sided mist, at times, ascends : 
 
Canto Vlli AN EPIC POEM. 235 
 
 When closed the gates of night, in western sky, 
 
 Oil the reposing sun's bright eagle eye. 
 
 Swelling round Lara of blue- winding streams, 
 
 The dark, deep, gloom of cloudy vapour teems; 
 Like a grey shield, the umber'd moon of night, 
 Swims through the folded clouds, with feeble light. 
 In this, * amidst the winds, the ghosts, of old, 
 Their dim, close-gather'd, forms are wont to fold ; 
 As wide, from blast to blast, they wing their flight, 
 On the dark visage of the stormy night: 
 When to the dwelling * of the brave they hie, 
 To pour the vapour of the misty sky ; 
 An azure mansion to their shades to lend, 
 Until their death-song from the harp ascend. 
 
 II. 
 Hark ! in the field of trees a rustling sound : 
 'Tis Conar, King of Erin, — name renowned ! 
 Now pouring thick the dark-grey haze of ghosts, 
 At Lubar's stream, on Fillan, pride of hosts. 
 
 * The mist of the lake of Lego. 
 
236 TEMORA: Canto VII. 
 
 The sprite descended in the valley's mists; 
 In grief, sad-sitting, to the breeze he lists. 
 The rugged blast his shade together roll'd ; 3 
 But quickly did the noble form unfold ; 
 Slowly it comes, with gloomy, down-cast, eye: 
 Its locks of mist, like course of storms, now fly. 
 
 III. 
 *Tis dark ! 4 Within the dusky robe of night, 
 The hosts are sunk in sleep, on Mora's height. 
 On Fingal's rock now lower'd is the flame : 
 He bended lonely on his shield of fame! 
 But while his slumbering eye forgot the tear, 
 The voice of Fillan reach'd the hero's ear. 
 " Sleeps thus fair Clatha's husband ? Does my sire, 
 To soothing slumber's arms, from grief retire? 
 Thinks he of Fillan's feeble misty spright, 
 Now lonely-struggling in the blast of night?" 
 
 IV. 
 61 Why art thou in my dreams, O youth renown'd ?*' 
 Said Fingal, starting from the dewy ground, 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 237 
 
 " Can I forget my son ! — can I forego 
 
 The thought of him who laid the mighty low ? 
 
 His path of fire, where gloomy danger spread ? 
 
 That youthful hand which Morven's warriors led ? 
 
 It is not thus the deeds of heroes roll, 
 
 Light, and unheeded, over FingaPs soul ! 
 
 No flash are they, which wings its transient flight, 
 
 And leaves no trace amid the dark of night. 
 
 No ! I remember Fillan, in his rest : 
 
 My soul arises ! Fury swells my breast !" 
 
 V. 
 In haste he snatch'd his spear from CormuPs moss, 
 And struck the buckler of resounding boss ; 
 
 The shield that hung on high in cloudy nicrht; 
 
 The instrument that rous'd to dealhful fiVht | 
 Upon the mountains' dusky slopes, on winds, 
 The tribes of ghosts now fled, like timid hinds ! 
 The voice of death, with horrid shriek awoke, 
 From the grey vale cf many windings broke. 
 The harps of bards, s untouched by human hand, 
 Sound mournful o'er the hills of Erin's land ! 
 
238 TEMORA; Canto VII. 
 
 VI. 
 A second time 6 he struck the echoing shield :* 
 The dreams of battle rush along the field. 
 The strife of azure swords, — the bloody plain, — 
 Flash on the heroes' souls, and swell each vein ; — 
 Chiefs close in combat ; vanquished armies fly ; — 
 In the red gore of foes their spears they dye : 
 Half-hid within the gleam of steel, are done 
 The boldest deeds, — immortal glory won ! 
 
 VII. 
 The wild-deer starting, at the second sound, 
 In terror, from their rocky caverns bound ; 
 The scream of birds from desert-groves rose shrilly 
 As each flew frighted o'er its trembling hill ■ 
 Victorious AlbiiVs 7 race now half-arise; 
 Lift their grey spears; and rub their half-oped eyes. 
 But silence soon return'd upon the host : 
 It was the shield of showery Morven's boast ! 
 Again to sleep the heroes' eye-lids yield ; 
 And death-like gloom reigns o'er the mis t y field. 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 No sleep was thine, O blue-eyed maid ! — no rest. 
 Daughter of Conmor ! calm'd thy troubled breast. 
 Suilmalla heard the sound ; through night she rose, 
 With trembling steps tow'rds Atha's king she goes, 
 And says, while tears around her pale cheeks roll, 
 " Ah ! danger will not move his daring soul W 
 Sad stood the weeping maid, with downcast eyes : 
 The glistening stars bright-sparkled through the skies. 
 
 IX. 
 Soon as the maiden heard the bossy shield, 
 She straight advanc'd along the heathy field. 
 She rush'd. — She stopt. — Forebodings dark assail'd : 
 Her voice arose; — her faultering accents faiPd ! 
 She saw him, as in glittering steel he lay, 
 Gleam in the brightness of the twinkling ray; 
 She saw the hero's heavy locks arise, 
 On the deep breathings of the midnight skies. 
 The timid virgin turn'd her steps aside, 
 In maiden-conflict 'twixt her love and pride ! 
 
240 TEMORA : Canto VIL 
 
 " But why, Suilmalla, should thy feeble hand 
 Awake the warlike king of Erin's land ! 
 Daughters of * Inisnaine's deep-murmuring streams, 
 Thou art not in the monarch's nightly dreams V 
 
 X. 
 Fiercely, again, awoke the fearful sound. 
 She shook: — her helmet tumbled to the ground; 
 Down the rough cliff it roll'd, with noisy bound. 
 The rattling steel great Cathmor's slumber broke : 
 The king advances from beneath his oak. 
 His eyes he rais'd ; the gentle maiden stood 
 On Lubar's rock, amid the scatter'd wood. 
 Down thro* the ringlets of her flowing hair 
 A red star look'd, along the misty air. 
 
 XI. 
 " Who comes to Cathmor, o'er the nightly streams, 
 In the s sinistrous season of his dreams? 
 Say, canst thou aught of battle's strife descrv ? — 
 Who art thou, son of darkness of the sky ? 
 
 * This (InisnaineJ is the orthography preserved by Br Graham : not 
 Inis-huna. 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 241 
 
 Does Atha's king, with doubtful glance, behold 
 A slender shadow of the times of old ? 
 Or dost thou whisper from the showery clouds, 
 The danger that old Erin's land inshrouds ?" 
 
 XII. 
 " No traveller doth Cathmor now espy; 
 Nor feeble voice from frowning clouds am I : 
 To tell of Erin's danger I draw near, — 
 The deep-resounding boss did'st thou not hear? 
 It is no ghost, O streamy Atha's king, 
 That pours its murmurs on night's dewy wing !" 
 
 XIII. 
 " Then let the hero pour his voice around. 
 To me 'tis like the warbling harp's sweet sound ! 
 O son of darkness, while his signals roll, 
 Joy burns bright on Cathmor's cloudless soul. 
 In this bold music hardy chiefs' delight, 
 On stormy hills, amid the gloom of night. 
 The timid race, in puny panic, dwell 
 JLow in the vale, where breezes softly swell ; 
 
242 TEMORA : Canto VII. 
 
 Where morning's mists to towering hills ascend, 
 
 From the blue streams that o'er the plain extend." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 (i O leader of the brave,— thou son of fame ! 
 
 Not timid were the sires from whom I came ! 
 
 In the dark caverns of the waves they dwelt; 
 
 A distant land their warlike prowess felt. 
 
 But my soft spirit no delight can gain, 
 
 From the slow sound of death along the plain. 
 
 The bard of mildest voice, O king, awake ! 
 
 He comes, who never yields !" 9 * * * 
 
 XV. 
 As a dark rock, around whose craggy sides 
 The trickling streamlet in soft murmurs glides, 
 Tall, in the desert of low hills appears, 
 Stood Cathmor, valiant chief ! in flowing tears. 
 Like to a mournful breeze, along his soul, 
 The melting accents of the maiden roll ; 
 Awakening now the memory of her land, 
 Where lofty mountains their huge sides expand ;— 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 243 
 
 Her peaceful dwelling in the streamy dale, 
 Ere his bold host, high-wafted on the gale, 
 To Inisnaine's bright-smiling valleys came, 
 In warlike Conmor's aid to lift the steel of fame \ 
 
 XVI. 
 " Daughter of sworded strangers," he replied, 
 From the brave chief she turn'd her head aside, 
 " Under my eye, in armour, long has been 
 The lovely branch of billowy Inisnaine ! 
 ' My soul,' said I, while viewing thy fair form, 
 6 Is folded in a robe * of dusky storm : 
 Why should this kindling light f its beams increase, 
 Till from the mountain I return in peace?' 
 Say was my visage pallid to thine eye, 
 That thou, white-handed maid, from sleep should'st hie, 
 To bid me from the path of glory fly ? 
 Maid of the bushy locks ! when dangers roll 
 Is the glad season of my growing soul, — 
 
 * A figurative way of saying he was engaged in war, 
 f His passion for her. 
 
 Ll 
 
244= TEMORA: Canto VII. 
 
 The hall t0 where warlike sentiments abide \ 
 
 Large, like a stream, it swells with martial pride, 
 
 And on the hardy Gaels pours its tide ! 
 
 On Lona, nigh a rock of mossy caves, 
 
 Beside the gurgling of the streams' blue waves, 
 
 Grey in his locks of age, " Claonmal stays, 
 
 King of the trembling harp's melodious lays* 
 
 Above his cave a rustling oak-tree grows, 
 
 Amid the secret courses of sleek roes. 
 
 The din of battle to his ear ascends, 
 
 As, in his thoughts of grief, I2 he lonely bends. 
 
 There shall my dear Suilmalla safe abide, 
 
 Until the roar of raging war subside ; 
 
 'Till I return, amid my armour-blaze^ 
 
 From the moist vapour of the mountain-haze : 
 
 From mists that gather, grey, on Lona's grove, 
 
 Around the gentle dwelling of my love 1" 
 
 XVII. 
 A beam of light in her fond soul arose ! 
 Bright, in the presence of the king she glows. 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 She turn'd her face to Cath trior, from the height, 
 Her ringlets struggling in the breeze of night: 
 " Sooner the eagle, 'mid the heavens high-borne, 
 Shall from the swelling stream of wind be torn, 
 When, with strong pinion hovering on the gale, 
 She sees the roes before her in the vale, 
 Than warlike Cathmor's steps shall turn away 
 From the renown of battle's direful fray ! 
 Let me behold thee, hero, in thy bloom, 
 From my ^rey robe of silent dusky gloom ; 
 When round my dwelling azure mists ascend, 
 Where Lona's many streams their waters bend. 
 When thou art far, O hero, from my sight, 
 Let thy loud-sounding boss my ear delight : 
 Joy's beams around my clouded soul will flock, 
 While I bend lonely o'er my mossy rock ! 
 If thou should'st fall ! — deep-sunk in woe I stand, — . 
 Sad — friendless — hopeless — in a stranger's land ! 
 Let thy loved accents from thy dark clouds flow 
 To Inisnaine's lost maid, when she is low !" 
 
%i6 TEMORA: Canto VIL 
 
 XVIII. 
 * { Young branch of grassy Lumon ! — lovely form ! 
 Why should'st thou sink amid the swelling storm, 
 Dark-pouring o'er the craggy mountain's face ? 
 Nay ; soon to thee my joyful steps I'll trace ! 
 Cathmor has oft' returned from war's rough sea : 
 The darts of death are but as hail to me; 
 Harmless they fall upon the echoing field, 
 Loud-crashing on the bosses of my shield. 
 I issue, brightened, from the deadly fight, — 
 A meteor from the bursting clouds of night ! 
 Return not, sun-beam ! from the peaceful vale, 
 When battle's roar deep- gathers on the gale: 
 Lest the proud foe should slip from Cathmor's hold. 
 As they escap'd my fathers' grasp, of old. 
 
 XIX. 
 6i Sonmor * 3 with anguish heard the piteous words. 
 That * Clunar u fell, by Cormac of sharp swords. 5 ' 
 Three days his visage bore the cloud of woe, 
 For his loy'd brother, now in death laid-low* 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 247 
 
 His gentle spouse the hero's grief espied : 
 To the lone mountain, in disguise, she hied ; 
 She took her bow, and, secret, sought the fields, 
 To watch the steps of Sonmor, chief of shields. 
 For, dark was Atha, — dark the hours she spent, 
 Whene'er her warrior to the conflict went. 
 
 XX. 
 M From hundred streams of dusky mountains pour'd, 
 Alnecma's sons o'er Erin's valley scour'd. 
 They heard their warlike king's loud shield accite ; 
 Their towering souls awaken'd to the fight ! 
 The gathering host in growing anger roves, 
 With din of arms, to Ullin of the groves. 
 Sonmor, at times, loud-struck the shield of fame, 
 His roaring tribes' proud ardour to inflame. 
 
 XXL 
 " Suil-allin 1S follows them, with watchful eyes ; 
 Upon the showery tops of hills she hies. 
 A light she was upon the mountain's brow, 
 When they descended to grey vales below : 
 
248 TEMORA: Canto VI J. 
 
 Her steps were stately on the plain of rills, 
 When they high-mounted to the face of hills. 
 She fear'd to meet her warlike hero's looks, 
 Who left her safe at grassy Atha's brooks. 
 
 XXII. 
 f* When battle's din in wild confusion rose, 
 And raging hosts were mingled with their foes, 
 Like lightning's flash amid the clouded sky, 
 The dazzling sword of Sonmor blazed on high I 
 The beautiful Suil-allin forward sped ; 
 Wide on the gale her flowing hair was spread : 
 Her throbbing soul now seems as on the wing ;— 
 She trembles for the safety of the king. 
 To save the love of heroes, l0 he declin'd 
 The combat, when with victory entwin'd. 
 The strife is stopt : the rushing foe-men fly, 
 Under the darkness of the mid-night sky. 
 No blood was shed, to brighten Clunar's shade, 
 Within his narrow, torchless, dwelling laid !, 
 
 XXUL 
 c < Nor rose the wrath of Sonmor, chief of spears ; 
 Dark were his days, and tedious roll'd his years. 
 
Canto VIL AN EPIC POEM. 249 
 
 Suil-allin * wander'd by her own blue stream. 
 While bursting tears obscured her eyes' bright beam ! 
 Her looks most mild, — her secret looks of grief,—- 
 Were often glided tow'rds the silent chief: 
 But when the gloomy hero's glance she spied, 
 The fair- one turn'd her soft, sad, eyes aside. 
 Wild wars awoke, as rattling thunders roll ; 
 Pale grief departed from his mighty soul. 
 Her steps he then beheld without a sigh ; 
 And her white hand on harp of melody/' 
 
 XXIV. 
 In armour, * 7 hastily advanced the king ; 
 Loudly he made the bossy buckler ringt 
 Aloft upon the oak of storms it gleams, 
 At azure Lubar's wave, of many streams. 
 Seven bosses on his massive shield appear ; 
 The king's seven voices to his host-men's ear, 
 That pour the sighings of the purple sky, 
 To where the mighty tribes of Bolga lie. 
 
 * Dr Graham spells it Suilaluin : he likewise spells Suihnalla, Suilvak* 
 
250 TEMORA: Canto VII. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 On every boss a star of night we view: 
 Can-mathon, beaming with unsullied hue; 
 Col-darna 9 rising from the sable cloud ; 
 JJloiche, peeping from his misty shroud ; 
 Caon-callin 3 glittering on a rock's high crest ; 
 Meuldura, on a blue wave in the west, 
 Where, half-conceaPd, her lustre seems to sleep, 
 Soft, on the smiling bosom of the deep ; 
 The bright eye of the mountains, Berthein, glows^ 
 Down from a wood her sparkling beam she shows, 
 Spreading the kind effulgence of her rays 
 On the lone path o'er which the hunter strays, 
 As, through the vale of showery gloom, he goes, 
 Slow, with the spoils of lofty-bounding roes. 
 Large, in the middle of the shield is seen 
 Tonthena, blazing in her cloudless sheen ; 
 The star which look'd, amid the stormy night, 
 On sea-borne Larthon, with propitious light; 
 Larthon, of the warlike Bolgi king, 
 The first that travelled on the wind's lS dark wing 
 
Canto VII, AN EPIC POEM. 251 
 
 Wide spread his white sails to the whistling gale> 
 Tow'rds the green coast of streamy Inisfail. 
 Night pours upon the visage of the main, 
 And dusky robes of vapour widely reign ; 
 The fierce winds shifted, rapid, in the skies; 
 From wave to wave the bounding vessel flies, 
 When bright Tonthena of the billows rose ; — 
 From bursting clouds, with placid smile, she flows. 
 Mild-shining, on the sea of storms she glides, 
 And joyful Larthon I9 to proud victory 2Q guides. 
 
 XXVI. 
 With echo shrill, beneath the hero's spear* 
 Awoke the voice that bids the bards draw near. 
 Dark-winding from the skirts of hills, they stand* 
 Each with his harp melodious in his hand. 
 In brightening joy great Cathmor's brow unfolds, 
 While he the warbling sons of song beholds* 
 Like to a traveller in the heat of day, 
 Whose sauntering footsteps o'er the valley stray, 
 When in the plain, afar, 'mid noon-tide beams, 
 He hears soft murmurs of the mountain-streams; 
 M m 
 
252 T£MOKA : Canto VlL 
 
 The bursting stream that in the desert flows, 
 From the gray- sided lonely rock of roes. 
 
 XXVII. 
 " Why did we hear thy voice, O king, accite, 
 In sleepy season of the showery night ? 
 Hast thou beheld, as in dark dreams you lay, 
 • The feeble misty ghosts descending grey? 
 In their cold dwelling, where the clouds dilate^ 
 The song of Fonar, of glad feasts, they wait. 
 Frequent their visits, in their dark career, 
 On the plain, where their offspring lift the spear. 
 Or shall our song in gladdening numbers soar, 
 For him who lifts the steel of death no more, 
 The brave destroyer of the marshall'd vale, — 
 The chief from Moma's groves; — now wrapt in misty gale?*' 
 
 XXVIII. 
 " Nay ; I forget not, chief of bards of old, 
 That cloud of war, in death's cold vapour roll'd ! 
 At Lubar's stream his stone shall proudly rise; 
 And Foldath's fame glide sweetly through the skies. 
 
Canfo VII. AN EPIC POEM. 253 
 
 But pour my soul on times of heroes brave,-— 
 On years in which they first rose on the wave, 
 And left the shores of warlike Inisnaine, 
 To dare the tumult of the stormy main. 
 Nor dear alone to Cathmor 'tis to trace 
 The recollection of thy smiling face, 
 O Lumon ! bright, well-peopled isle of groves, 
 "Where verdure blooms, and nimble hunter roves; 
 O Lumon I land of streams, and flowery glades, 
 The sweet abode of fair white-bosqm'd maids f" 
 XXIX. 
 
 FONAR's SONG. 
 (e Gladly Lumon " of the streams ! 
 
 Dost thou brighten on my soul : 
 On thy side sun's yellow beams, 
 
 O'er the rock of tall trees roll. 
 Thy dun roe, — thy branchy deer, 
 
 Red, amidst the lofty groves, 
 From the mountain look, with fear, 
 
 Ilapid hound pursuing roves, 
 
354, TEMORA: Canto VII 
 
 Blow on the plain the maidens stray ; 
 
 Maidens fair as fleecy snow.— r 
 Maids of soft harmonious lay ; 
 
 In the field, with bended bow. 
 Lift their mild blue- eyes around, 
 
 From their yellow locks that wave, 
 High they view the hilly ground,-— 
 
 View the mountain of the brave. 
 Not on mountain's top are seen 
 
 Larthon's steps, and stately stride ; 
 Chief of isle of branches green ! 
 
 He bounds his black oak o'er the tide. 
 In Cluba's bay, where rudely swell 
 
 Rolling billows, in rough motion, 
 The black oak, which on Lumon fell, 
 
 Gambols o'er the foaming ocean ! 
 Timid maidens softly turn 
 
 Their mild glances from the king j 
 Whilst their anxious bosoms burn, 
 
 JLest he fall from tempest's wing : 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 8tf 
 
 For ne'er before had they espied, 
 
 From the heights of Cluba's steep, 
 A dark ship, in majestic pride, 
 
 Obliquely" riding on the deep. 
 XXX 
 " Now the king invokes the wind ; 
 
 'Mid grey ocean's mist he flies : 
 Boiling waves he leaves behind ; 
 
 Inis-fail's blue hills arise. 
 Swift descends the showery night. 
 
 Terror seizes Bolga's sons ! 
 Bright Tonthena darts her light. 
 
 To Gulbin's bay the dark ship runs. 
 There woods re-echo noisy waves. 
 
 There deep-resounds the yellow strand, 
 From Du-thuma's rock of caves, 
 
 Where changeful forms of ghosts expand. 
 XXXI. 
 " To Larthon, of the swelling billow, 
 
 Seven spirits of his sires appear'd; 
 
m TEMORA: ! Canto VIL 
 
 As he reclin'd him on his pillow, 
 
 Their solemn-bursting voice was heard. 
 Their offspring brave in mist were seen, — 
 
 The warlike race of Atha's fields, — 
 Their children on the valleys green, 
 
 The leaders of the Bolgi's shields. 
 They pour'd their hosts, like mist descending, 
 
 When from mountain-top it roves, 
 Beneath the breeze its grey waves bending, 
 
 O'er green Atha of the groves. 
 XXXII. 
 ?< The hall of Samla' 3 Larthon builded, 
 
 To the harp's melodious lay. 
 grin's roes before him yielded, 
 
 On her plains, and mountains gray. 
 Nor forgot he Lumon's caves, 
 
 "Where white-handed Flathal 14 glows, 
 Whilst she watches tumbling waves, 
 
 From the hill of tawny roes. 
 Sweetly, Lumon of the streams ! 
 
 Post thou brighten on my soul; 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 25 h , 
 
 Brilliant as the early beams 
 O'er thy blue waters that roll ! 
 
 XXXIII. 
 A ray of light awakens in the east : 
 The lofty heads of mountains rise in mist : 
 Deep in the bosom of each vale is seen 
 Its blue stream, winding through the dewy green. 
 The signal-clang of warlike Cathmor's shield 
 Bids slumber fly, from Lubar's gleaming field. 
 The race of Bolgic Erin now awakes ; 
 Each, from the ground, his bossy buckler takes : 
 Like turgid sea, when, with wild fury, flies 
 The sound of swelling winds, from frowning skies ; 
 Tumbling the waves from side to side, as they 
 Incline their troubled heads of towering spray,— 
 In doubt to where proud ocean bends his way. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 Slowly, and sad, while tears bedew her cheeks, 
 The fair Suilmalla streamy Lona seeks. 
 The maid retired, but oft in sorrow turn'd ; 
 Her swelling soul with dire forebodings burn'd. 
 
258 TEMORA : Canto VlL 
 
 But when she reach'd Du-chroma's rock of caves, 
 Whose head of mist in Lona's vale high-waves, 
 On Atha's king she look'd, With anguish'd mind, 
 And sunk at once, amid the mountain- wind ! 
 XXXV. 
 
 LYRIC SONG, 
 
 <: Strike the string, son of Alpin, whom vapour inshrouds, 
 Is aught of delight in the harp of the clouds ? 
 
 ! pour it on Ossian, whilst heavy his sigh ; 
 His soul swims in mist; and in darkness his eye ! 
 
 1 have heard thee, O ! bard ; in my night didst thou cheer : 
 But now let all light airs depart from mine ear. 
 
 The mild song of sadness is Ossian's delight, 
 
 In his grey years of age, when enfeebled his might. 
 
 Green thorn of the mountain where ghosts darkly spread, — 
 
 In night's chilling breezes that bendest thy head, — 
 
 Thy rustling now meets not the aged bard's ear,-— 
 
 No music of ghosts in your branches I hear. 
 
 Oft your light steps are heard, O ! ye shades of the brave, 
 
 On the winds, when black tempests in loud murmurs rave; 
 
Canto VII. AN EPIC POEM. 259 
 
 "While the moon, from the east, 'mid the clouds we espy 
 
 Like a grey shield, as darkly she roves through the sky. 
 
 Ullin, Carril, and Ryno ! ye voices of old, 
 
 Let me hear ye, while dark mists green Selraa infold; 
 
 Come quickly; descend from the shadowy throng, 
 
 And brightly awaken the soft soul of song. 
 
 O sweet sons of warbling, I hear not your numbers ! 
 
 Say, in what deep recess of the clouds are your slumbers ? 
 
 Or do ye, now, wrapt in the soft robe of sleep, 
 
 In your vapour recline on the wide-spreading deep ? 
 
 Do ye touch the dim harp to the glad listening sky, 
 
 Where the moist gloomy skirts of the morning-mist fly, 
 
 While the bright sun breaks forth from his eastern caves^ 
 
 And rises, resounding/ 5 from green-headed waves?'' 
 
 N n 
 
NOTES 
 
 SEVENTH CANTO. 
 
 I. 
 
 1 The expression close-gathered forms alludes to the my- 
 thology of the times : 
 
 The ghosts, or shades, of the deceased are uniformly 
 represented, by Ossian, as thin and feeble forms, which 
 were liable to be tossed about by the blast, and even to 
 have their substance, at times, torn and dispersed by the 
 winds ; an example of which occurs immediately after, in 
 the second stanza. It became necessary for them, there- 
 fore, to guard against such accidents, and to gather their 
 unsubstantial substance into close array. 
 
 * As the mist which arose from the lake of Lego, caused 
 diseases and death, the bards feigned that it was the resi- 
 dence of the deceased, during the interval between their 
 death and the pronouncing the funeral elegy over their 
 tombs ; for, as has been before remarked, it was not allow- 
 able until that ceremony was performed, for the spirits of 
 the dead to mix with their ancestors, in their airy halls. 
 It was the business of the nearest relation of the deceased, 
 
m NOTES. Canto VII. 
 
 to take the mist of the lake of Lego, and pour it over 
 the grave. We here find Conar, the son of Trenmor, the 
 first king of Ireland, performing this office for Fillan ; as 
 it was in the cause of the family pf Conar that he was 
 slain. 
 
 IX, 
 
 3 We have here a fine example of the mythology allud- 
 ed to in a preceding note. The ghost of Fillan had been 
 rolled together, by the blast, but soon resumed its form. 
 
 III. 
 
 4 The following is the singular sentiment of a frigid 
 bard : " More pleasing to me is the night of Cona, from 
 Ossian's harp ; more pleasing it is to me, than a white- 
 bosomed dweller between my arms; then a fair-handed 
 daughter of heroes, in the hour of rest," 
 
 Though tradition is not very satisfactory concerning the 
 history of this poet, it has taken care to inform us, that 
 he was very old when he wrote the distich ; a circumstance 
 which we might have supposed, without the aid of tradition. 
 
 Y. 
 
 5 It was the opinion of ancient times, that on the night 
 preceding the death of a person worthy and renowned, the 
 harps of those bards who were retained by his family, e- 
 mitted melancholy sounds. This was attributed to the light 
 touch of ghosts; who were supposed to have a fore- know- 
 ledge of events. The same opinion prevailed long in the 
 porth; and the particular sound was called the warning 
 
Canto VII. NOTES. 
 
 voice of the dead. The voice of death, mentioned in the 
 preceding sentence, was of a different kind. Each person 
 was supposed to have an attendant spirit, who assumed his 
 form and voice, on the night preceding his death, and ap* 
 peared to some in the attitude in which the person was to 
 die. The Voices of Death were the foreboding shrieks 
 of those spirits. 
 
 To this day we perceive the same superstitious notion 
 amongst the vulgar Irish. If a person should happen to 
 be mistaken for you, they say, " it was your fetch : you'll 
 goon die." 
 
 yi. 
 
 6 Doctor Graham says, " If appears evident, that Mr 
 Macpherson has entirely miscalculated the different alarms 
 given by the shield of Fingal ; and hence he finds himself 
 obliged to omit the expression, " the second time," in 
 verse 56 of the original, and to mistranslate the expres- 
 sion, li the second sound," verse 63. It will appear after- 
 wards, that the third sound of the shield was not heard 'till 
 Suilvala came to Cathmor, verse 92." 
 
 VII. 
 
 7 In the original it is Albin : Dr. Graham translates it 
 Albion. However, I fancy this must be a typographical 
 error ; as, in page 65 of his work, he remarks, that at this 
 day the Highlanders call themselves Albanich, and their 
 country Albin. Is it not strange, that Mr Macpherson 
 should translate it <{ Sons of Selma ?" 
 
26* NOTES. Canto VIL 
 
 XL 
 
 8 " The term cearr occurs twice in the original of this 
 book, in a very appropriate acceptation ; but in neither in- 
 stance is it translated by Mr Macpherson, who probably 
 did not understand it. Cearr signifies, in general, of any 
 two things or ways, the ivrong one. Thus, in contradistinc- 
 tion to straight, it signifies oblique ; in opposition to lucky, 
 it signifies unlucky ; in opposition to right-handed) it sig- 
 nifies left-handed. It is here rendered by sinistrous, ?/«- 
 lucky, or ominous'* Graham. 
 
 I have inserted this, and notes of a similar tendency, to 
 shew that, if Mr Macpherson, was not capable of seizing 
 the true spirit of original Gaelic, which he himself publish- 
 ed as a specimen, it was not likely that he was the author 
 of that Gaelic, (as some have asserted) and merely pub- 
 lished it the better to gull the public. Mistranslations of 
 this kind, to me, speak volumes. 
 
 I refer the reader, who may feel an interest in the dis- 
 cussion, to Dr Graham's work : where he will find many 
 gross mistranslations of Mr Macpherson, exposed. 
 XIV. 
 
 9 Fingal is said to have never been over-come in bat- 
 tle. From this proceeded the title of honour which is al- 
 ways bestowed on him in tradition, Fion gal na buai', Fin- 
 gal of victories. In a poem, just now in my hands, 
 which celebrates some of the great actions of Arthur, the 
 famous British hero, the appellation is often bestowedonhim. 
 The poem, from the phraseology, appears to be ancient; 
 and is perhaps, a translation from the Welsh language. 
 
Canto VII. NOTES. 265 
 
 XVI. 
 
 I ° M Besides numerous omissions and suppressions in 
 this passage, I observed that Mr Macpherson has entirely 
 neglected to render the last clause of this line, mor-thalla 
 nan stri, probably because he did not understand its signi- 
 fication. It implies that the soul of Cathmor was the hall, 
 or seat, of warlike sentiments. 5 ' — Graham. 
 
 II Claon-mal, crooked eye-brow. From the retired life 
 of this person, is insinuated, that he was of the order of the 
 Druids ; which supposition is not at all invalidated by the 
 appellation of king of harps, here bestowed on him ; for all 
 agree that the bards were of the number of the Druids ori- 
 ginally. 
 
 1 * " Smuainte nach tiom ; that is, thoughts not gentle 
 and pleasant, but grieved and sad." This Mr Macpherson 
 unwarrantably translates, « thoughts of years.'-GRAHAM. 
 XIX. 
 
 1 J Sonmor, tall handsome man. He was the father of 
 Borbar-duthal, chief of Atha,— and grandfather to Cath- 
 mor himself. 
 
 14 Cluan-er, man of the field. This chief was killed in 
 battle by Cormac Mac-Conar, king of Ireland, the father 
 of Roscrana, the first wife of Fingal. The story is allud- 
 ed to in some ancient poems. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 15 Suil-alluin, beautiful; the wife of Sonmor. 
 
266 NOTES. Canto VIL 
 
 XXII. 
 
 1 G That is ; to save her from being hurt in the encoun- 
 ter* 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 1 7 To avoid multiplying notes, I shall here give the sig- 
 nification of the names of the stars, engraved on the shield. 
 Cean-mathon, head of the bear, Col-darna, slant and sharp 
 beam. Uloiche, guide of the night. Caon-callin, mild- 
 maiden. Reuldura star of the twilight. Bert he in, Jiref 
 of the hill. Tonthena, meteor of the waves. These ety- 
 mologies* excepting that of Cean-mathon, are pretty ex- 
 act. Of it I am not certain ; for it is not very probable 
 that the Firbolg had distinguished a constellation by the 
 name of the bear, so very early as the days of Larthon. 
 
 Dr Graham says : — " There occurs no passage, per- 
 haps, in all the poems ascribed to Ossiart, which seems to 
 afford a fairer field for scepticism, than this astronomical 
 description of the shield of Cathmor. It appears, at first 
 sight, to be a transcript of Homer's description of the 
 shield of Achilles, (II. xviii. v. 478,) and by far too re- 
 fined for the period of Ossian. I shall only beg leave to 
 remark, that the astronomy of this passage extends no far- 
 ther than what is well knowri to be common and ordinary 
 in the Highlands, at this day. In a country where clocks 
 and almanacks are not frequent, the rising of the Pleiades 
 not only indicates the season of the year, but their pro- 
 gress in the sky shews the hour of the night : the revolu- 
 
Canto VII. NOTES. 26' 
 
 tion of the Northern Bear is, at this day, the horary of the 
 Highlanders: the phases of the moon are minutely attend- 
 ed to by every shepherd and peasant. 
 
 " The subject is important, and may excuse a short di- 
 gression. It is remarkable, that, in the representation of 
 the Zodiac, given by Denon, from an Egyptian ceiling, 
 whilst there occurs much resemblance to that of the Greeks, 
 there are to be found, at the same time, such striking dis- 
 similarities, as would seem to authorize the opinion, that 
 men, in very different ages and countries, have entertained 
 similar imaginations, and formed very similar assortments 
 of the constellations, without any mutual communication, 
 or concert. There is, it would seem, something in the ar- 
 rangement of the constellations, which will naturally strike 
 every eye in somewhat a similar manner. The Bear, the 
 Canis Major, Orion, Bootes, the Bull, &c. have, from the 
 remotest antiquity, attracted the attention of men ; and, 
 it is probable, that they have been designated, by nearly 
 similar 6gures, in very distant nations and periods. The 
 knowledge of them is common in the Highlands, and was, 
 probably, more so in ancient times, when the Caledonians 
 took long voyages, and were accustomed to traverse vast 
 forests and lofty mountains, both by day and night. 
 
 '* Were I allowed to offer a conjecture, with regard to 
 the stars that adorned Cathmor's shield, I should say, that 
 Ceanmathon, rendered, by Mr Macpherson, " the Bear's 
 head," is Sirius, in Canis Major : there is no remarkable 
 star in the Bears Head. Mr Macpherson translates Uloicho, 
 
 o o 
 
26S NOTES. Canto VII. 
 
 ff the ruler of the night," falsely : — it is, " the guide of 
 right," and, probably, means the Polar Star, Caoin-challin, 
 literally, " the mild maiden,*' is perhaps the bright star in 
 Bpica Virginis. Reuldura is, perhaps, the setting Evening- 
 Star ; for, it is not likely that a distinction was then made, 
 between the fixed stars and the planets.'' 
 XXV. 
 
 18 To travel on the winds, a poetical expression for sail- 
 ing. 
 
 19 Larthon is compounded of Lear, sea, and thon, wave. 
 This name was given to the chief of the first colony of the 
 Firbolg, who settled in Ireland, on account of his knowledge 
 of navigation. A part of an old Poem is still extant, con- 
 cerning this hero. It abounds with those romantic fables 
 of giants and magicians, which distinguished the composi- 
 tions of the less ancient bards. The descriptions contained 
 in it are ingenious, and proportionable to the magnitude 
 of the persons introduced ; but, being unnatural, they are 
 insipid and tedious. Had the bard kept within the bounds 
 of probability, his genius was far from being contemptible. 
 The exordium of his Poem is not destitute of merit ; but 
 it is the only part of it that I think worthy of being present- 
 ed to the reader. 
 
 " Who first sent the black ship through Ocean, like a 
 whale through the bursting of foam ? Look from thy dark- 
 ness, on Cronath, Ossian, of the harps of old ? Send thy 
 light on the blue-rolling waters, that I may behold the 
 J^ing. I see him, dark in his own shell of oak ? Sea-tosr 
 
Canto VJIi NOTES. 269 
 
 sed Larthon thy soul is strong. It is careless as the wind 
 of thy sails; as the wave that rolls by thy side. But the 
 silent green isle is before thee, with its sons, who are tall 
 as woody Lumon ; Lumon, which sends from its top a 
 thousand streams, white-wandering down its sides.'* 
 
 20 The expression to victory > [nam buadh,) which, though 
 not in Mr Macpherson's translation, is preserved by Dr. 
 Graham, shows that Ireland was inhabited previous to 
 Larthon's settlement ; else, who was he to conquer ? 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 21 Lumon was a hill in Inis-huna, near the residence of 
 Suilmalla. This episode has an immediate connection with 
 what is said of Larthon, in the description of Cathmor's 
 shield. 
 
 " u It appears that Mr Macpherson did not understand the 
 epithet cearr : in one place (as remarked in note 8) he de- 
 clines translating it ; on the present occasion, he translates 
 it falsely. It here expresses, with fine effect, the appear- 
 ance of a vessel at sea, inclining to leeward, under a side- 
 wind." — Graham. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 2 3 Shamhla, apparitions ; so called from the vision of 
 Larthon respecting his posterity. 
 
 * 4 Flathal, heavenly, exquisitely beautiful, She was the 
 wife of Larthon. 
 
 2S «* It is still a notion, amongst the vulgar, in the High- 
 lands of Scotland, that the sun, as he rises, and passes 
 along in the firmament, makes a rustling noise, which 
 
270 NOTES. Canto. VIl. 
 
 may be heard. It may not be un-interesting to those who 
 study the history of the human mind, which is often deve- 
 loped in popular superstitions, to trace similar notions in 
 another people, plaeed in nearly a similar state of society 
 with the Caledonians. Tacitus, (De Mor. Germ. c. 45.) 
 speaking of the Suiones, (the Swedes,) says, * that they 
 believe that the sound of the emerging sun is heard ; and 
 that the forms of the gods, and the rays of their heads, are 
 seen.' Does Tacitus, in the latter clause of the sentence, 
 allude to the phenomenon of the Aurora Borealis, so con- 
 spicuous in those regions ?'' — Graham. 
 
 END OF THE NOTES TO THE SEVENTH CANlO. 
 
TEMOR A : 
 
 AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 CANTO VIII. 
 
 ARGUMENT. 
 
 The fourth morning, from the opening of the Poem, comes on. Fingal 
 still continuing in the place to which he had retired on the preceding 
 night, is seen, at intervals, through the mist which covered the rock of 
 Cormuh The descent of the king described. He orders Gaul, Der- 
 mid, and Carril the bard, to go to the valley of CI una, and conduct 
 from thence, to the Caledonian army, Ferad-artho, the son of Cairbar, 
 the only person remaining of the family of Conar. The king takes the 
 command of the army, and prepares for battle. Marching towards the 
 enemy, he comes to the cave of Lubar, where the body of Fillan lay. 
 
272 TEMOKA: Canto VllL 
 
 Upon seeing his dog Bran, who lay at the entrance of the cave, his 
 grief returns- Cathmor arranges the Irish army in order of battle. 
 The appearance of that hero. The general conflict. The actions of 
 Fingal and Cathmor. A storm. The total route of the Firbolg. The 
 two kings engage, in a column of mist, on the banks of the river Lu- 
 bar. their attitude and conference after the combat. The death of 
 Cathmor. Fingal resigns the spear of Trenmor to Ossian. The cere- 
 monies observed upon that occasion. The spirit of Cathmor, in the 
 mean time, appears to Suilmalla in the valley of Lona. Her sorrow. 
 Evening comes on. A feast is prepared. The coming of Ferad-artho 
 is announced by the song of an hundred bards. The poem closes with 
 a speech of Fingal. 
 
 I. 
 
 As when the wintry winds, in stormy flight, 
 
 Have seiz'd the mountain-lake's rough waves in night; 
 
 With rapid strides the chilling blasts advance, 
 
 And clothe in icy robe the wide expanse ; 
 
Canto VIIL AN EPIC POEM. 273 
 
 White, to the early hunter's watchful eye, 
 
 The captive billows seem to roll on high, — 
 
 His ear he turns, and thinks to hear the sound 
 
 Of each unequal ridge, in fetters bound : 
 
 But all is silent : Rudely gleams the mass, 
 
 Wide-strewn with boughs, and tufts of wither'd grass, 
 
 Which shake and whistle, as the cold shrill breeze, 
 
 O'er their grey seats of frost, on ice-wings flees, — 
 
 So, silent, shining to the morning's ray, 
 
 In gleaming ridges Morven's host now lay ; 
 
 As each bold warrior, from his helmet bright, 
 
 Threw his first glance to Cormul's rocky height, 
 
 The tall cloud-cover'd hill where Fingal strode, 
 
 In folds of mist which, grey, around him flow'd. 
 
 At times, the hero, greatly-dim, is seen, 
 
 In all his armour, through the vapoury screen. 
 
 The stormy horrors of the dark war roll, 
 
 From thought to thought, along his mighty soul. 
 
 II. 
 Forth comes the king. First Luno's sword appears ; 
 The spear, half-issuing from the cloud, he rears ; 
 
274< TEMORA: Canto VIII 
 
 Still dim in mist the shield scarce meets the sight, 
 Like the pale moon, dark-robed in clouds of night. 
 But, when his stately stride abroad he show'd, 
 While his gray dewy locks on breezes flow'd, 
 Xh en rose the shouts of streamy Selma's sons; 
 Through every tribe the acclamation runs ! 
 Quickly they gather from the heath-brown fields* 
 Gleaming around with all their echoing shields. 
 So rise green seas around a sprite that roams, 
 When from the squally wind's loud blast he comes : 
 The traveller hears the sound far-distant spread. 
 And o'er the rock of billows lifts his head y 
 He wistful looks along the troubled bay, 
 And thinks he dimly sees the dark form stray: 
 The sportful waves around, unwieldy roam, 
 And lofty tumble with their backs of foam. 
 
 III. 
 Great Morni's son, and Derm id, fearless chief! 
 With Cona's bard, far-distant stood, in grief; 
 We stood far-distant ; each beneath his tree ; 
 Like lonely barks dark-scattered on the sea. 
 
Canto VIII. AN EPIC POEM. 275 
 
 We shunn'd the glance of Selma's radiant star: — 
 
 We had not conquer'd in the field of war ! 
 
 A little stream from mountain-rock flow'd near : 
 
 I touch'd its light wave with my gleaming spear. — 
 
 Not there is Ossian's soul ! It darkly flies 
 
 From thought to thought, and sends abroad its sigh ; 
 
 IV. 
 M O son of Morni, dread of haughty foes ! 
 And thou, brave Dermid, hunter of the roes ! 
 Why are ye dark," said Fingal, " like two rocks, 
 Whose trickling sides have felt the tempest's shocks? 
 No anger gathers in thy leader's soul 
 Against his chiefs, — howe'er its sorrows roll ! 
 Ye are my strength when echoing wars increase ; 
 The brightest kindling of my joy in peace. 
 My early voice has been a pleasant gale ; 
 Oft* did your ears its welcome accents hail, — 
 When the young hunter of the bounding roe, 
 My dark-hair'd Fill an ! bent his trusty bow. 
 The son of aged Fingal is not here ! 
 Nor yet the pleasant chase of nimble deer : 
 PP 
 
276 TEMORA: Canto VUL 
 
 But why, ye breakers of the shields, thus stand, 
 Darkened, and distant from your leader's hand ?" 
 
 V. 
 Their joyful steps towards the king inclined : 
 They saw the hero turn'd to Mora's wind. 
 His tears came down, — his blue-eyed son he wept, 
 Who in the cave of noisy torrents slept ! 
 But, from the darkening cloud of grief he broke, 
 And to the two blue-shielded kings thus spoke. 
 
 VI. 
 * e Crommal, with woody rocks, and misty crest, 
 (The field of winds, where cloudy vapours rest, 
 When o'er the valley spread the noon-day beams,) 
 Pours from its side blue Lubar's roaring streams. 
 Behind it flows bright Lavath, winding clear 
 In the still vale where flock the stately deer. 
 Dark in a rock a cavern opes its cell ; 
 And high above it strong-wing'd eagles dwell ? 
 Broad-headed oaks the mossy cave surround, 
 And in the bl^st of Cluna's wind resound* 
 
Canto VI1L AN EPIC POEM. 277 
 
 Within, while tumults through green Erin ring, 
 Dwells Ferad-artho, youthful blue-eyed king. — 
 Broad-shielded Cairbar's son, of royal race, 
 From Ullin's groves, there hides his blooming face ! 
 He lists to Condan's voice, as, grey, he bends 
 In feeble light, that through the gloom descends 5 
 While Ullin's haughty foes, in swelling pride, 
 In high Temora's echoing halls abide. 
 Abroad, at times, in skirts of mist he goes, 
 To pierce, with secret hand, the bounding roes* 
 When night's dark shadows from the valleys flee* 
 Nor by the rock, nor by the stream is he ! 
 He shuns the eye of Bolga's hostile race, 
 Who in his fathers' hall their proud steps trace* 
 Tell him that Fingal lifts the spear again ; 
 His foes may fail, and Trenmor's offspring reign I 
 
 VII. 
 " Before the youth, O Gaul, thy buckler rear. 
 And thou, brave Dermid, stretch Temora's spear. 
 And let thy mellow voice by him be heard, 
 With his sire's deeds, O Carril, ancient bard* 
 
278 TEMORA i Canto VIII, 
 
 Lead him to brown Moilena, vale of hosts, 
 The dusky field of dimly-spreading ghosts. 
 There fall I forward in the folds of war, 
 While morning's rays the eastern gates unbar. 
 Before dun night her dewy veil shall drop, 
 Ascend, O chiefs, to high Dunmora's top. 
 Look from its mist, 'mid evening's blushing beams, 
 Along green Lena of blue-rolling streams. 
 If, over Lubar's gleaming wave, you find 
 My up-lift standard floating on the wind, 
 Then know that Fingal did not vainly wield 
 The sword of Luno, in his latter field." 
 
 VIII. 
 Such were his words : nor aught the kings replied j 
 With silent steps o'er Mora's heath they stride. 
 Their sidelong look on Erin's host was cast : 
 The warlike heroes darkened as they past ! 
 Never before had they their monarch's shield 
 Unaided left, to stem the stormy field. 
 The grey-hair'd Carril moved behind the kings, 
 Touching, at times, his harp of trembling strings. 
 
Canto VIIL AN EPIC POEM. 279 
 
 The bard fore-saw the fall of names renown'd ; 
 Sad was the strain, and mournful rose the sound ! 
 It was as when the nightly breezes break, 
 In murmuring blasts, o'er Lego's reedy lake ; 
 When sleep descends, 'long-side its misty wave, 
 On the lone hunter, in his mossy cave. 
 
 IX. 
 a Why bends the bard of Cona," Fingal said, 
 " Thus o'er his secret stream, with drooping head ? 
 Is this a time for darkening grief to rest, 
 Father of Oscar ! in thy warlike breast ? 
 Remembered be the warriors in peace, 
 When echoing shields' resounding clang shall cease ; 
 Bend then in grief, above the passing flood, 
 Amid the mountain-breeze, and shady wood ; 
 Then let the blue-eyed dwellers of the tomb, 
 Pass on thy soul, in silent tearful gloom. 
 But Erin's war now rolls along the vale; 
 Wide spread her murmurs on the morning gale. 
 Lift, Ossian, lift the shield ; — to glory run ! 
 Thy sire's alone ! — Be strong— be bold, my son ! 
 
230 TEMORA : Canto VIIL 
 
 X. 
 
 As comes the sudden voice of rustling gale, 
 To the dark ship, becalm'd with spreading sail, 
 And sends her large, high-rider on the wave, 
 Along the deep where tumbling billows rave ; 
 So Fingal's voice, with wrath-inspiring sound, 
 Sent Ossian, tall, along the echoing ground ! 
 His shield, high lifted, brightly shone afar, 
 Amid the dusky wing of frowning war: 
 Like the broad moon, in skirts of cloudy skies, 
 Before the fearful shrieks of storm arise ! 
 
 XI. 
 Loud rush'd the broad wing'd war, from Mora's heath. 
 Like mountain-tempest, to the plain beneath. 
 Before them moved their never-yielding king. 
 High o'er helmet spread the eagle's wing. 
 His loose grey-hair on his broad shoulders glides. 
 In thunder are the hero's mighty strides ! 
 Oft' stood the warrior, while, with joyful glance, 
 He saw his host, in flaming steel, advance. 
 
Canto VIII. AN EPIC POEM. 281 
 
 A rock he seem'd, in glittering ice inshrin'd, 
 
 With woods high-waving in the stormy wind : 
 
 Bright from its head the playful torrents leap, 
 
 And spread their foam on blasts that round them creep. 
 
 XII. 
 Now had he come to Lubar's gloomy cave, 
 Where Fillan slept, above the dark-blue wave ! 
 Bran still lay on his master's broken shield ; 
 The eagle-wing was strew* d along the field. 
 His lance which spread destruction through the fight, 
 'Midst wither'd furze now met the father's sight ! 
 Then did the grief of Fingal's soul awake, 
 Like whirl-winds blackening on a troubled lake : — ■ 
 He turn'd his sudden step, with bursting tear, 
 And darkly lean'd him on his bending spear ! 
 
 XIII. 
 White-breasted Bran came bounding to his feet, 
 The well-known footsteps of the king to greet : 
 But to the cave the dog soon turn'd away, 
 Where, cold, and pale, the blue-eyed hunter lay ! 
 
282 TEMORA : Canto' V1IL 
 
 For he was wont, with morning's dawn, to stride 
 
 To dewy haunts where mountain-roes abide ! 
 
 Fast did the stream of anguish now descend, 
 
 And dark remembrance Fingal's bosom rend. 
 
 But, as the rising wind soon rolls away 
 
 The stormy showers that o'er the mountain stray, 
 
 And leaves, unclouded, to the sun's bright beams, 
 
 The grassy hills, and all their glistening streams : 
 
 So, sorrow's cloud from Fingal's bosom fled, 
 
 When o'er his soul the thoughts of battle spread. 
 
 He bounded on his spear 3 o'er Lubar's roar ; 
 
 And struck the shield that Trenmor's arm once bore ! 
 
 His ridgy host the echoing signal feel; 
 
 And forward bend, with all their pointed steel ! 
 
 XIV. 
 Nor Erin heard with fear the deathful sound : — s 
 Wide rolPd her tribes along the quivering ground. 
 With darkening scowl proud Malthos moves along, 
 And leads the foremost of the marshalFd throng. 
 Next fair Hidalla, in his youthful bloom ; 
 Then tall Maronnan's sidelong-looking gloom.. 
 
Canto VIII. AN EPIC POEM. 283 
 
 Blue-shielded Clonar lifts the spear behind ; 
 
 Tall Cromar's bushy locks shake on the wind. 
 
 Slow from behind a rock a form inclines, — 
 
 'Tis Atha's king in dazzling armour shines ! 
 
 At first his two bright-pointed spears appeared ; 
 
 Then half his burnish'd shield he proudly rear'd ; 
 
 But when he shone abroad in all his might, 
 
 Then plunged the hosts, at once, in madd'ning fight ! 
 
 The deadly waves of steel, in mingling tide, 
 
 With awful clashing roll on either side ! 
 
 XV. 
 As meet two troubled seas, with thundering peal, 
 When the dark winds' contending wings they feel 
 In Lumon's rocky frith ; the curling wave, 
 With fury whitening, flies the tempest's rave ; 
 While round the echoing hills and shrieking coasts 
 Is the dim course of wild exulting ghosts : 
 The ravening blast the stately groves assails, 
 And strews amidst the foamy path of whales. 
 So mix the hosts ! Now Fingal darkly strides ; 
 Now Cathmor thro' the shrinking thousands glides ! 
 
$U TEMORA i Canto VUh 
 
 Grim death before the raging heroes prowl'd, 
 And broken steel along their path was roll'd, 
 As loud the tall high-bounding kings hew'd down 
 The ridge of shields, — the warriors of renown. 
 
 XVI. 
 Maronnan falls by Fingal's Vengeful blade ; 
 His bleeding body 'cross a stream is laid j 
 The spreading Water, gathering by his side, 
 Leaps o'er his shield, so lately borne with pride ! 
 Direful and fierce the course of Erin's king { 
 Brave Cionar's * breast receives his deadly sting. 
 Nor lay the chief on earth ; a spreading oak 
 Seiz'd his long hair, — the last dread fall thus broke I 
 His glittering helmet roll'd along the field; 
 But, by its thong was hung his broad blue shield : 
 Around each boss the throbbing heart's red wave, 
 Wound its sad course at every sigh he gave ! 
 Flamin 4 will weep, and strike her heaving breast, 
 To which she hoped her Clonar to have press'd ! 
 
 * It would appear that there were two persons of the name of Clonar ; 
 one in the Irish, the other in Fingal's army 
 
Canto VIII. AN EPIC PQEM f 285 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Neither does Ossian wield a bloodless spear ; 
 
 In war's dark wing his nodding plumes appear : 
 
 He strews the field with dead, and fills the host with fear! 
 
 Hidalla comes : " Soft voice of Clonra's glade ! 
 
 Why does thy hand now lift the hostile blade? 
 
 O that we met, afar from war's wild throng, 
 
 In thy own grassy vale, in strife of song !" 
 
 Malthos beheld the youthful hero slain, 
 
 And darkened as he rush'd along the plain, 
 
 And now, on either side a running stream, 
 
 In all the din of echoing strife we gleam. 
 
 At once the lofty heaven with tempest frown'd ; 
 
 The squally voice of winds loud-burst around : 
 
 The blue-wing'd flame the trembling hills inshrouds; 
 
 Bed thunders roll within their bursting clouds. 
 
 In darkness shrunk the foe amid the blast: 
 
 And Morven's warriors, shuddering, stood aghast I 
 
 XVIII. 
 Then rose the voice of Fingal, and the soun4 
 Qf the dark-flying foe, dispersed around. 
 
286 TEMORA: Canto VIII. 
 
 I saw the king, at times, in lightning bright, 
 Far on the heath wide-striding in his might. 
 I struck my echoing shield, and press'd along, 
 Impending o'er Alnecma's flying throng. 
 The foe, on terror's wing, before me broke, 
 And widely roll'd like feeble wreaths of smoke. 
 
 XIX. 
 The sun look'd forth ! the tempest's roar was gone ; 
 The hundred streams * of brown Moilena shone. 
 The bright-blue mists, high o'er the distant rills, 
 Slow- rose in columns 'gainst the glittering hills. 
 tt Where are the kings ?" 5 I widely look around. — 
 I see them not I But clanging arms resound ! 
 With panting soul and breath suppress'd I list. — 
 u Their strife is in the bosom of that mist !" 
 Thus do the furious spirits wildly fight, 
 Envelop'd in the dusky clouds of night, 
 When for the wintry wings of winds they rave, 
 And the proud rolling of the foam-cloth'd wave ! 
 
 * Occasioned by the torrents of rain_that fell. 
 
Canto VIII. AN EPIC POEM. 287 
 
 i 
 
 XX. 
 
 I rush'd along. The grey mist now had clear'd. 
 At Lubar's wave, tall-gleaming, they appear'd. 
 Against a rock the mighty Cathmor lean'd : 
 His fallen shield the chief no longer screen'd. 
 The trickling streams that from the moss descend, 
 Are now collecting in its hollow bend. 
 Tow'rds him is Fingal's stride: he saw his blood, 
 And by the wounded hero nobly stood ! 
 His conquering sword fell slowly to his side. 
 Thus spoke the' chief, as Atha's king he eyed. 
 
 XXI. 
 « Say ; does the race of Borbar-duthal yield ? 
 Or means he still the spear of strife to wield? 
 Chief! not unheard of was thy mighty name: 
 To Atha oft the wearied stranger came ! 
 It came # — it brightly came to FingaFs ear: — 
 'Twas with a sigh he 'gainst thee rais'd the spear? 
 Come to my hill of feats : let peace prevail ! 
 Brave warrior ! know, at times the mighty fail ! 
 
 * His name or character. 
 
288 TEMORA: Canto VJIL 
 
 No fire is Selma's king to low-laid foes. — 
 Ne'er o'er the fallen brave his bosom glows. 
 To close the wound 6 is mine : my hand can seize 
 The healing herb, amid the mountain-breeze. 
 But thou art dark and silent, noble chief! 
 Why does the friend of strangers bend in grief? 
 
 XXIL 
 " By Atha of the flowing stream," he said, 
 " A grey rock rises with its mossy head. 
 Around its top are wandering boughs intwin'd, 
 Amid the murmurs of the rustling wind. 
 Dark, in its face, there opes an echoing cave. 
 Through which its own loud rill blue-rolls the wave- 
 There have I often heard the strangers' 7 tread. 
 When to my hall of shells in peace they sped. 
 Joy, like a flame, arose within my soul ; 
 I blest the echoing rock ;— I blest its waters' roll ! 
 There, when in darkness laid, J fain would dwell. 
 Amid the verdure of my grassy dell. 
 From thence shall I, light, on the breeze suffuse. 
 That through the field the thistle's beard pursues { 
 
Canto VIII. AN EPIC POEM. 289 
 
 Or from its wandering mist look down with pride, 
 On where blue- winding Atha's waters glide." 
 
 XXIII. 
 " Why have the thoughts of death the king assaiPd ? — 
 
 Ossian, alas ! the warrior has fail'd ! 
 
 Joy meet thy soul, O Cathmor ! strangers' friend ! 
 In streams of light may thy glad ghost ascend ! 
 My son ! the call of dusky years I hear; 
 In passing on they loud demand my spear ! 
 6 Why does not Fingal, now,' they seem to say, 
 * Rest in his hall? — from fields of slaughter stay? 
 Wilt thou for ever take delight in blood ? — 
 To see the tears of sadness roll their flood ?' 
 Blood glads me not, ye years that darkly roll I 
 And tears are wintry streams, that waste my soul 1 
 But when I lay me down to rest from care, 
 Then quickly comes the mighty voice of war ! 
 When dreams of peace my weary eyes would seal, 
 It wakes my soul, and calls forth all my steel 1 
 Horrific war shall call it forth no more. — 
 Farewell ye plains of woe — ye fields of gore ! 
 
290 TEMORA : Canto VtlL 
 
 Ossian take thou thy father's conquering spear:* 
 Lift it in battle when the proud appear. 
 
 XXIV. 
 " My fathers trace my steps from azure skies ; 
 My deeds are pleasant to their watchful eyes. 
 Whene'er in war I lift great Trenmor's shield, 
 Their misty columns hover o'er my field. 
 Mv arm was rais'd the feeble to inspire ; 
 The haughty found my rage a wasting fire. 
 Ne'er o'er the vanquish'd did I raise my voice ; 
 Ne'er o'er the fallen did my eyes rejoice. 
 For this 8 my sires will fondly gratulate, — 
 Leave their proud airy halls, and meet me at the gate* 
 With robes of light, — with mildly-kindled eyes, 
 They'll guide my spirit through the smiling skies* 
 But, from the proud in arms they turn away, 
 And leave them in their lonely mists to stray. 
 To them they're darkened moons in heaven, which blight 
 Their frighted spectres with the fire of night ! 
 
 * The spear of Trenmore : the badge of command* 
 
Canto VIII AN EPIC POEM. 291 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 He gave the spear to Ossian, with a sigh, 
 
 And rais'd at once a mossy stone on high ; 
 
 Beneath its base, deep-buried in the field, 
 
 He placed a sword, 9 and one boss from his shield ; 
 
 Dark- sunk in thought the mighty chief appear'd.— 
 
 At length, with glowing soul, his words I heard- 
 
 XXVII. 
 l( When thou, O stone, shalt moulder in decay* 
 And lose in moss of years thy chequer'd gray ; 
 Some puny traveller may, haply, pass, 
 Unheedful of thee, whistling o'er the grass. 
 Thou know'st not, feeble man, that fame once shone. 
 On brown Moilena, near this moss-cloth'd stone ! 
 Here Fingal, finishing his Jong career, 
 In his last field, resign'd his conquering spear. 
 Pass on, thou empty shade, as vapour glides ! 
 No fame in thy weak sickly voice abides^ 
 Thou dvvellest where some peaceful streamlets run ; 
 Yet a few years and thou, unraark'd, were gone. 
 
292 TEMORA: Canto VII I* 
 
 No one remembers thee, poor struggling sprite I 
 Thou dweller in the dark thick mist of night ! 
 But Fingal shall be cloth'd with fame's bright rays* 
 A deathless beam of light to future days : 
 For he went forth to darkening war's alarms, 
 In echoing steel, to save the weak in arms !" 
 
 XXVIII. 
 Now, brightening in his fame, the king ascends 
 To Lubar's sounding oak, where, tall, it bends 
 Wide-spreading branches from the rock of streams, 
 Above the wave that through the valley gleams. 
 Beneath its shade a narrow plain is spread, 
 And a fount rushes from its rocky bed. 
 Here Morven's standard I0 floating on the gale, 
 Guides Ferad-artho from his secret vale. 
 Now from his parted west the sun look'd bright j 
 And cheer'd Moilena with his golden light. 
 The hero saw his people gathering round ; 
 He heard their echoing joy in shouts resound* 
 Their broken ridges, bright in steel, inelin'd 
 To Morven's sim-bectm glittering on the wind. 
 
Canto VIII. AN EPIC POEM. 
 
 The king now feeJs his joyful bosom swell, 
 
 Like a lone hunter in his grassy dell, 
 
 When, as the roaring storm is roll'd away, 
 
 He sees the rocks their gleaming sides display : 
 
 The green thorn's head waves o'er its wandering rill ; 
 
 The fearful roes look forward from their hill. 
 
 XXIX. 
 Within " his mossy cave, low-bent with years, 
 The hoary Clonmal's aged form appears. 
 Dark time had spread its curtain o'er his eyes : 
 And now his staff its friendly aid supplies. 
 The bright Suilmalla listened, as he told 
 Of Atha's mighty kings in days of old. 
 The noise of strife now ceas'd in Clonmal's ear ; 
 He stopt, — he sigh'd,--and dropt a secret tear. 
 'Twas said that hovering spirits oft* would roll 
 A ray of light * across his drooping soul. 
 He saw the monarch, Atha, lowly-laid, 
 Peneath his bending tree along the glade ! 
 
 * A Prophetic Spirit. 
 
£94 TEMORA: Canto VIIL 
 
 XXX. 
 
 f Why art thou dark ?" the lovely maiden said, 
 ** The strife is past ; the din of arms is fled. 
 Soon shall the hero seek thy mossy cave ; 
 Soon shall he cross thy winding stream's light wave. 
 From western rocks the sun now gilds his skies. 
 The misty vapours of the lake arise. 
 
 XXXI. 
 * 6 Distant * and grey along the hill they spread, 
 Around the flying roes' green rushy bed. 
 Soon shall his clanging armour glad mine ear ; 
 Soon " from the mist, my Cathmor will appear. 
 Behold he comes ! I see his helmet wave. — 
 My best-belov'd ! come ! come ! to Clonmal's cave V* 
 
 XXXII. 
 It was the ghost of Cathmor, stalking wide; 
 A gleaming form! Along the breeze he hied. 
 He sinks (while hope her panting bosom fills,) 
 By the dark stream which roars between the hills. 
 
 * Suilmalla seems now to have left the cave, to look out for Cathmor ; 
 w*o had promised, (Canto VII.) to come to the cave of Clonmal, after th$ 
 taole. 
 
Canto. VIII. AN EPIC POEM. 29i 
 
 " 'Twas but the hunter's form," she sighing said, 
 
 " Who searches for the lonely roe's green bed. 
 
 His steps descend not to the rueful fight : 
 
 His watchful spouse expects him home with night. 
 
 Glad shall he rest him from his mountain toils ; 
 
 And, whistling, bear the branchy deer's dark spoils." 
 
 Towards the hill she turns her wistful glance: 
 
 Again she sees the stately form advance. 
 
 She rose with joy. Again, in mist he flees. 
 
 His faint limbs mingle with the mountain-breeze ! 
 
 " O Erin's king !" — with out-stretch'd arms, she cried* 
 
 And, lifeless, sunk upon the mountain's side ! 
 
 Let Ossian's heart forget the maiden's woe ; 
 
 It wastes the soul of age ! My wandering tears o'erflow 1 
 
 XXXIII. 
 The purple evening's dusky wings expand. 
 Grey roll the torrents of the distant land. 
 At Fingal's word the waving wreaths of smoke, 
 With half-hid flames, intwine the crackling oak. 
 The people gather round their honour'd chief, 
 With gladness blended with the shades of grief: 
 
296 TEMORA: Canto VIII. 
 
 For, as their side-long looks their monarch meet, 
 
 They see the hero's joy is incomplete. 
 
 Now, softly swelling from the desert vale, 
 
 The voice of music wafted on the gale — 
 
 It seem'd, at first, as if the distant sound 
 
 Of streamlets trembling o'er the rocky ground — ■ 
 
 Slowly it rolPd along the answering hills, 
 
 Like as the ruffled wing of breezes thrills, 
 
 "When tufted beard of rocks it takes, in flight, 
 
 In the still season of the lonely night. 
 
 It was the voice of Condan, hoary bard, 
 
 Soft-mix'd with CarriPs warbling harp, we heard : 
 
 As Ferad-artho, blue- eyed king, they led, 
 
 With joyful steps, to streamy Mora's head, 
 
 XXXIV. 
 The song of bards, on Lena, burst around : 
 The host loud-struck their shields amid the sound. 
 On Fingal's soul bright gladness spread her ray, 
 Like to the sun-beam of a cloudy day, 
 Which gently rises on the green hill's face, 
 While roaring winds their echoing footsteps trace. 
 
Canto VUL AN EPIC POEM. 297 
 
 He made the bossy shield of kings resound ; 
 At once a death-like silence reigned around. 
 Dark-leaning on their spears, the warriors stand. 
 Bent forward to the voice of their proud land. 13 
 
 XXXV. 
 " Ye sons of Morven, terrible in fight, 
 With feast and song now roll away the night. 
 Ye shone around me when with clouds o'er-cast; 
 But, warriors ! now the dark deep storm is past f 
 My people are the windy rock's broad head, 
 From which my eagle-wings I proudly spread : 
 When on the field I rush, with growing soul, 
 To seize renown ; — the haughty to control ! 
 Ossian, my son, thou bearest Fingal's spear : 
 'Tis not the puny staff of boys you rear ! 
 With which they feebly strew the thistle round, 
 Or hunt the nestling from its mossy ground. 
 No ! 'tis the lance a mighty hand once bore; 
 The steel that oft has stain'd the field with gore ! 
 Look to thy sires, my son ; they 're awful beams : 
 The voice of song with their renown now teems ! 
 
298 TEMORA: Canto VIJL 
 
 When morning's Tight the eastern blush recalls, 
 
 Lead Ferad-artho to Temora's halls. 
 
 The fame, — the deeds of Erin's kings unfold J 
 
 Remind him of the stately forms of old. 
 
 Let not the fallen heroes be forgot; 
 
 In the dark field of might they nobly fought. 
 
 Let aged Carril pour his tuneful voice, 
 
 That the brave kings may, in their mist, rejoice* 
 
 When morrow's sun shall quit his azure bed, 
 
 My sails to Selma's shaded walls I spread; 
 
 Where dark Duthula's curling water flows, 
 
 With winding stream, — through grassy seats of roes.* 
 
 END OF TEMORA. 
 
NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 THE EIGHTH CANTO, 
 
 VI. 
 2 Ferad-artho was the son of Cairbar-Mac-Corniac, king 
 of Ireland. He was the only one remaining of the race of 
 Conar, the son of Trenmor, the first Irish monarch, accord- 
 ing to Ossian. In order to make this passage thoroughly 
 understood, it may not be improper to recapitulate some 
 part of what has been said in preceding nofes. Upon the 
 death of Collar, the son of Trenmor, his son Cormac suc- 
 ceeded to the Irish throne. Cormac reigned long. His 
 children were, Cairbar, who succeeded him, and Ros-cra- 
 na, the first wife of Fingal. Cairbar, long before the death 
 of his father Cormac, had taken to wife Bos-gala, the 
 daughter of Colgar, one of the most powerful chiefs in 
 Connaught, and had, by her, Artho, afterwards king of 
 Ireland. Soon after Artho arrived at man's estate, his 
 mother Bos-gala died, and Cairbar married Baltanno, the 
 daughter of donachar of Ullin, who brought him a son ? 
 
 s s 
 
300 NOTES. Canto VIIL 
 
 whom he called Ferad-artho, i. e. a man in the place of 
 Artho. The occasion of the name was this : Artho, when 
 his brother was born, was absent on an expedition in the 
 south of Ireland. A false report was brought to his father, 
 that he was killed. Cairbar, to use the words of a poem 
 on the subject, darkened, for his fair-haired son. He 
 turned to the young beam of light, the son of Baltanno of 
 Connachar. Thou shalt be Ferad-artho, he said, a fire be- 
 fore thy race, Cairbar, soon after, died ; nor did Artho 
 long survive him. Artho was succeeded, in the Irish 
 throne, bj his son Cormac ; who, in his minority, was mur- 
 dered by Cairbar, the son of Borbar-duthal. Ferad-artho, 
 says tradition, was very young when the expedition of 
 Fingal, to settle him on the Irish throne, happened. Dur- 
 ing the short reign of young Cormac, Ferad-artho lived at 
 the royal residence of Temora. Upon the murder of 
 the king, Condan, the bard, conveyed Ferad-artho, pri- 
 vately, to the cave of Cluna, behind the mountain Crom- 
 mal, in Ulster, where they both lived concealed, during 
 the usurpation of the family of Atha. A late bard has de- 
 livered the whole history in a poem just now in my posses- 
 sion. It has little merit, if we except the scene between 
 Ferad-artho and the messengers of Fingal, upon their ar- 
 rival in the valley of Cluna. After hearing of the great 
 actions of Fingal, the young prince proposes the following 
 questions, concerning him, to Gaul and Dermid : ** Is the 
 king tall as the rock of my cave ? Is his spear a fir of 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. - 301 
 
 Cluna? Is he a rough-winged blast on the mountain, 
 which takes the green oak by its head, and tears it from 
 its hill ? Glitters Lubar within his strides, when he sends 
 his stately steps along ? Nor is he tall, said Gaul, as that 
 rock : nor glitter streams within his strides ; but his soul 
 is a mighty flood, like the strength of Uilin's seas." 
 
 IX. 
 2 Malvina is supposed to speak the following soliloquy : 
 " Malvina is like the bow of the shower, in the secret 
 valley of streams ; it is bright ; but the drops of heaven are 
 rolling on its blended light. They say that I am fair within 
 my locks; but, on my brightness is the wandering of tears. 
 Darkness flies over my soul, as the dusky wave of the 
 breeze along the grass of Lutha. Yet have not the roes 
 failed me, when I moved between the hills. Pleasant, be- 
 neath my white hand, arose the sound of harps. What 
 then, daughter of Lutha, travels over thy soul, like the 
 dreary path of a ghost along the nightly beam * ? Should 
 the young warrior fall, in the roar of his troubled fields ! 
 Young virgins of Lutha, arise ; call back the wandering 
 soul of Malvina. Awake the voice of the harp, along my 
 echoing vale. Then shall my soul come forth, like a light 
 from the gates of the morn, when clouds are rolled around 
 them, with their broken sides. 
 
 * I should suppose this means a cloud (which they supposed the re- 
 sidence of ghosts,) passing over the Moon. 
 
302 NOTES. Canto. VIII. 
 
 u Dweller of my thoughts by night, whose form ascends 
 ?n troubled fields i Why dost thou stir up my soul, thou 
 far-distant son of the king ? Is that the ship of my love ? 
 its dark course through the ridges of ocean ? How art thou 
 so sudden, Oscar, from the heath of shields ?" 
 
 The rest of this poem consists of a dialogue between Ul- 
 lin and Malvina, wherein the distress of the latter is car- 
 ried to the highest pitch. 
 
 XIII. 
 3 The Irish compositions concerning Fingal invariably 
 speak of him as a giant. Of these Hibernian poems there 
 are now many in my hands. From the language, and al- 
 lusions to the times in which they were writ, I should fix 
 the date of their composition in the fifteenth and sixteenth 
 centuries. In some passages, the poetry is far from want- 
 ing merit; but the fable is unnatural, and the whole con- 
 duct of the pieces injudicious. I shall give one instance of 
 the extravagant fictions of the Irish bards, in a poem which 
 they, most unjustly, ascribe to Ossian. The story of it 
 is this : — Ireland being threatened with an invasion from 
 some part of Scandinavia, Fingal sent Ossian, Oscar, and 
 Ca-olt, to watch the bay in which it was expected the ene- 
 my would land. Oscar, unluckily, fell asleep, before the 
 Scandinavians appeared: and, great as he was, says the 
 Irish bard, he had one bad property, that no less could 
 awaken him, before his time, than cutting off one of his 
 fingers, or throwing a great stone against hie head ; and it 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. SOS 
 
 was dangerous to come near him, on those occasions, till 
 he had recovered himself, .and was fully awake. Ca-olt, 
 who was employed by Ossian, to waken his son, made 
 choice of throwing the stone against his head, as the least 
 dangerous expedient. The stone, rebounding from the 
 hero's head, shook, as it rolled along, the hill for three 
 miles round. Oscar rose in rage, (no wonder he should, 
 poor fellow,) fought bravely, and, singly, vanquished a 
 wing of the enemy's army. Thus the bard goes on, till 
 Fingal put an end to the war, by the total rout of the Scan- 
 dinavians. Puerile, and even despicable, (says Mr Mac- 
 pherson,) as these fictions are, yet Keating and O'Flaher- 
 ty have no better authority than the poems which contain 
 them, for all that they write concerning Fion Mac-Com- 
 nal, and the pretended militia of Ireland. 
 
 I think I may venture to add, that however much men- 
 dacity might have been the order of the day, in those 
 times, few would have had the temerity to dispute the title 
 of Arch-liar, with the bard whom Mr Macpherson has had 
 the goodness to select for us, as a specimen of Irish au- 
 thors. Now if those who contend for Mr Macpherson 
 being the composer of the poems ascribed to Ossian, can 
 once prove that the royal bard had as thick a scull as his 
 son Oscar, I have no doubt but the gentle reader will agree 
 with me, that they must be left in undisturbed possession 
 #f the field, 
 
£0* NOTES. Canto VIII. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 * Fla-min, mildly soft. The Loves of Clonar and Flamia 
 were rendered famous in the north, by a fragment of a ly- 
 ric poem. It is a dialogue between Clonar and Flamin. 
 She begins with a soliloquy, which he over-hears. 
 
 Flamin. " Clonar, son of Conglas of I-mor, young 
 hunter of dark-sided roes ! where art thou laid, amidst 
 rushes, beneath the passing wing of the breeze ? I behold 
 thee, my love, in the plain of thy own dark streams ! The 
 clung thorn is rolled by the wind, and rustles along his 
 shield. Bright jn his locks he lies : the thoughts of his 
 dreams fly, darkening, over his face. Thou thinkest of 
 the battles of Ossian, young son of the echoing isle ! 
 
 " Half-hid, in the grove, I sit down. FJy back, ye 
 mists of the hill. Why should ye hide her love from the 
 eyes of Flamin of harps ! 
 
 Clonar. " As the spirit seen in a dream, flies off from 
 our opening eyes, we think we behold his bright path be- 
 tween the closing hills ; so fled the daughter of Clungal, 
 from the sight of Clonar of shields. Arise from the gather- 
 ing of trees ; blue-eyed Flamin, arise. 
 
 Flamin, •' I turn me away from his steps. Why 
 should he know of my love ? My white breast is heaving 
 over sighs, as foam on the dark course of streams. But he 
 passes away, in his arms ! Son of Conglas, my soul is sad ! 
 
 Clonar. " It was the shield of Fingal ! the voice of 
 Icings from Selma of harps ? My path is towards green 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. 305 
 
 Erin. Arise, fair light, from thy shades ? Come to the 
 field of my soul, there is the spreading of hosts. Arise, 
 on Clonar's troubled soul, young daughter of the blue- 
 shielded Clungal !" 
 
 Glungal was the chief of I-mor, one of the Hebrides. 
 XIX. 
 
 5 The conduct here, (says Mr Macpherson ) is perhaps 
 proper. The numerous descriptions of single combats have 
 already exhausted the subject. Nothing new, or adequate 
 to our high idea of the kings, can be said. A column of 
 mist is thrown over the whole, and the combat is left to the 
 imagination of the reader. Poets have almost universally 
 failed in their descriptions of this sort. Nor all the strength 
 of Homer could sustain, with dignity, the minnticE of a 
 single combat. The throwing of a spear, and the braying 
 of a shield, as some of our own poets most elegantly ex- 
 press it, convey no magnificent, though they are striking, 
 ideas. Our imagination stretches beyond, and, consequent- 
 ly, despises, the description. It Mere, therefore, well for 
 some poets, in my opinion (though it is, perhaps, singu- 
 lar), to have, sometimes, thrown mist over their single 
 combats. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 6 Fingal is very much celebrated, in tradition, for his 
 knowledge in the virtues of herbs. The Irish poems, con- 
 cerning him, often represent him curing the wounds 
 which his chiefs received in battle. They fable, con- 
 cerning him, that he was in possession of a cup, contain- 
 
366 NOTES. Canto VltL 
 
 ing the essence of herbs, which instantaneously healed 
 wounds. The knowledge of curing the wounded, was, till 
 of late, universal among the Highlanders. We hear of no 
 other disorder, which required the skill of physic. The 
 wholesomeness of the climate, and an active life, spent in 
 hunting, excluded diseases. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 7 Cathmor reflects with pleasure, even in his last mo- 
 ments, on the relief he had afforded to strangers. The 
 very tread of their feet was pleasant to his ear ! His hos- 
 pitality was not passed unnoticed by the bards ; for, with 
 them, it became a proverb, when they described the hos- 
 pitable disposition of a hero, that he was like Cathmor of 
 Atha, the friend of strangers. It will seem strange, that, 
 in all the Irish poems there is no mention made of Cath- 
 mor. This must be attributed to the revolution, and do- 
 mestic confusions, which happened in that island, and ut- 
 terly cut off all the real traditions concerning so ancient a 
 period. All that we have related of the state of Ireland 
 before the fifteenth century, is of late invention, and the 
 work of ill-informed senachies, and injudicious bards. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 8 The Celtic nations had some idea of rewards, and per- 
 haps of punishments, after death. Those who behaved, 
 in life, with bravery and virtue, were received, with joy, 
 to the airy halls of their fathers ; but the dark in soul f to 
 use the expression of a poet, were spurned away from the 
 habitation of heroes, to wander on all the winds. Another 
 
Canto VI1T. NOTES. 307 
 
 opinion, which prevailed in those times, tended not a little 
 to make individuals emulous to excel one another in mar- 
 tial achievements : It was thought, that in the hall of 
 clouds, every one had a seat, raised above others, in pro- 
 portion as he excelled them in valour when he lived. 
 
 We should be almost tempted to suspect, that they ima- 
 gined the dead to have very bad memories ; when they 
 conceived the character given by bards, in their funeral 
 elegy, to have such an influence on the reception the poor 
 ghosts were to meet with. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 9 There are some stones still to be seen, in the north, 
 which were erected as memorials of some remarkable tran- 
 sactions between the ancient chiefs. There are general- 
 ly found beneath them, some pieces of arms, and a bit 
 of half-burnt wood. The cause of placing the last there, 
 is not mentioned in tradition. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 10 The erecting of his standard, on the bank of the Lu- 
 bar, was the signal which Fingal, in the beginning of this 
 Canto, promised to give to the chiefs, who went to con- 
 duct Ferad-artho to the army, should he himself prevail in 
 battle. This standard is, here, called the sun-beam ; pro- 
 bably from its bright colour, and its being studded with 
 gold, as mentioned in the poem entitled Fingal. 
 
 XXIX. 
 1 The scene is changed to the valley of Lona, whither 
 
 T t 
 
303 NOTES. Canto V1IL 
 
 Suilmalla had been sent, by Cathmor, before the battle. 
 
 Clonmal, an aged bard, or rather druid, as he seems to be 
 
 endued with a prescience of events, had long dwelt there 
 
 in a cave. This scene is calculated to throw a melancholy 
 
 gloom over the mind. 
 
 XXXI. 
 " Tradition relates, that Ossian, the next day after the 
 
 decisive battie between Fingal and Cathmor, went to find 
 out Suilmalla, in the valley of Lona. His address to her 
 
 follows:— 
 
 " Awake, thou daughter of Conmor, from the fern-skirt- 
 ed cavern of Lona. Awake, thou sun-beam in deserts ; 
 warriors, one day, must fall ! They move forth, like tei> 
 rible lights ; but. often, their cloud is near. Go to the 
 valley of streams, to the wandering of herds, on Lumon ; 
 there dwells in his lazy mist, the man of many days. But 
 he is unknown, Suilmalla, like the thistle of the rock of 
 roes; it shakes its grey beard, in the wind, and falls, un- 
 seen of our eyes. Not such are the kings of men ; their 
 departure is a meteor of fire, which pours its red course 
 from the desert, over the bosom of night. 
 
 " He is mixed with the warriors of old, those fires that 
 have hid their heads. At times shall they come forth to 
 song. Not forgot has the warrior failed ! He has not seen, 
 Suilmalla, the fall of a beam of his own ; no fair-haired 
 son, in his bk)od, young troubler of the field. I am lonely, 
 young branch of Lumon ! I may hear the voice of the 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. 609 
 
 feeble, when my strength shall have failed in years, for 
 young Oscar has ceased, on his field !" * * * 
 
 Suilmalla returned to her own country. She makes a 
 considerable figure in another poem ; her behaviour in that 
 piece accounts for the partial regard with which the poet 
 ought to speak of her throughout Temora. 
 XXXIV. 
 
 13 Before I finish my notes, it may not be improper to 
 obviate an objection, which may be made to the credibility 
 of the story of Temora. It may bs asked, * whether it is 
 probable that Fingal could perform such actions as are, 
 here, ascribed to him, at an age when his grand-son, Oscar, 
 had acquired so much reputation in arms ?' To this it 
 might be answered, that Fingal was but very young (Canto 
 IV.) when he took to wife Roscrana, who soon after be- 
 came the mother of Ossian. Ossian was also extremely 
 young when he married Evir-allin, the mother of Oscar. 
 Tradition relates, that Fingal was but eighteen years old 
 at the birth of his son Ossian ; and that Ossian was about 
 the same-age, -when Oscar was born. Oscar, perhaps, 
 might have been about twenty, when he was killed at the 
 battle Cabhra (Canto I.) ; so the age of Fingal, when the 
 decisive battle was fought between him and Cathmor, was 
 fifty six years. In those times of activity and health, the 
 natural strength and vigour of a man was Jittle abated, at 
 such an age. 
 
31® NOTES. Canto VIII. 
 
 A few days ago, on a sporting excursion, about five 
 miles from the City of London-Derry, I came to a very 
 extensive heathy plain ; situated between Lough Foyle and 
 Lough Swilly, in. the barony of Inishowen, County of Do- 
 negal. The features of the plain, as well as the appear- 
 ance, and relative situation, of the neighbouring, and dis- 
 tant hills, almost instantly struck me, as bearing a strong 
 resemblance to those of the scene oi action of the poems 
 of Fingal and Temora. 
 
 Being then preparing the manuscript of the four last 
 Cantos of the latter poem for the press, the picture drawn 
 by Ossian was fresh in my memory : curiosity, therefore, 
 led me to examine the minuticB pf the scene before me ; and 
 to satisfy myself, whether there existed sufficient agree- 
 ment to demand a farther enquiry. 
 
 It occurred to me, that the strongest internal evidence, 
 both of the identity of the poetic scene (if you will allow 
 rne the expression) with the one before my eyes, and, like- 
 wise, of the poems being the composition of a person ac- 
 tually engaged in the scenes he describes, would be a re- 
 semblance in features, not sufficiently prominent to meet 
 the eye of an ordinary observer, but, which, from their 
 connection with events, might, nevertheless, have made an 
 indelible impression on the memory of one deeply interest- 
 ed in what was going forward. I hope this remark will in- 
 cline the reader to receive, with indulgence, the seemingly 
 frivolous detail of resemblance in objects which may ap- 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. 311 
 
 pear trifling and unimportant. He will allow me to sug- 
 gest, that a spot so wild and unfrequented, as the one I am 
 speaking of, would not probably be visited, except in the 
 pursuit of game : indeed I know of no other temptation it of- 
 fered. On those occasions, the fatigue attending the pro- 
 secution of the primary object, generally, prevents an at- 
 tention to any other than the grand and striking features 
 of the scene. Therefore, if any should be so absurd as to 
 fancy that the fabricator of the poems in question, on some 
 occasion or other, was struck with the appearance of the 
 country, and, in a romantic moment, made it the theatre 
 of ideal actions, — -they will be pleased to turn this remark 
 in their minds. Prevention is sometimes easier than cure. 
 I have to assure my reader, that the result of about five 
 or six hours, assiduously spent in exploring, as far as time 
 and strength permitted, every object that I thought could 
 serve to elucidate the subject, was an almost irresistible 
 persuasion, that I was treading on the spot on which Fin- 
 gal fought, — and which Ossian sung ! — The general appear- 
 ance of the river, which, after winding its course through 
 the wide-spreading heath, discharged itself into the sea at 
 no great distance from the place ; the particular aspect of 
 its banks; the remains of a cave near its brink*; an unex- 
 
 * The cave I mention is not a cavern in a rock, but formed by large 
 stones supporting the earth, about four yards from where the stream ran . 
 on the day I visited it. The bottom part of it had evidently been wash- 
 ed away, and the bank encroached on, by some swell of its waters. But 
 
312 NOTES. Canto VIII. 
 
 pected, and considerable eminence on its bank, answering 
 in appearance to the spot on which Fingal is said (Canto 
 VIII.) to have planted his standard ; the situation of this 
 eminence with regard to the hill on which it was probable 
 the guides would have conducted Ferad-artho, in order 
 that he might have a view of the contending armies, and, 
 yet, be out of the reach of his enemies ; all recalled to me 
 the Lubar of Ossian,— the tomb of Fillan ! Having cros- 
 sed the river, and proceeding near a mile northwards, I 
 came to a hill, which completely answered to the descrip- 
 tion of the one which Ossian calls Mora. On its front, 
 facing to, and commanding a view of, the plain, wa9 a 
 rocky ledge, elevated above the general surface of the hill, 
 whose sides had so gradual a slope, that a number of peo- 
 ple dispersed around it could have a view of a person on 
 the rock; and very distinctly hear the " three bards'' 
 (Canto IV.) from it. It is true, no longer was it " wood- 
 skirted Mora." But we have evidence of our eyes, that not 
 only that, but all the neighbouring country contained abun- 
 dance of trees; their roots are daily discovered. I ascended 
 this rock ; and noticed the appearance of the heath-covered 
 
 there could be no doubt, to any one viewing it, that it once might have 
 answered the purpose mentioned in the poem. It was separated from 
 the stream by a small strand, which would strike one as a likely place 
 for a wounded man to retire to. The pass over the river, towards the 
 north, was near this place. Perhaps another cave might be met with 
 on the bank.-p-But you will observe Ossian speaks of " the stone of Lu- 
 bw*. 
 
 1 
 
Canto VIIL NOTES. 3l3 
 
 plain from it. Owing to the position of the surrounding 
 hills, the extent of the valley was disguised, and had the 
 appearance of a winding vale : so that I could not help 
 fancying, with Ossian when composing his poem, that, 
 • " Lubar was bright before me in the windings of its vale." 
 (Canto V.) 
 
 Opposite to this rock is a hill, on which it is not improba- 
 ble that Cathmor stood. When on the intermediate plain, I 
 did not think it possible, from one hill to distinguish the 
 motion of a man on the other: but in this I was mistaken. 
 While I stood on the rock, a person made his appearance 
 on the opposite hill, perhaps more than two miles distant : 
 he seemed gigantic; and I could plainly perceive all his 
 movements. 
 
 In proceeding from the rock, by the way which it 
 would be most easy, and most natural, for Fingal to have, 
 taken, when descending to his army, (Canto VIIL), at 
 about an hundred yards from the rock, I noticed the track 
 of " a little stream.'' My fancy suggested that it was about 
 the place where we might suppose Ossian to siand, as his 
 father came down from the rock of Cormul ; when, absor- 
 bed in grief, he " touched its light wave with his spear," 
 1 say, about the place where we might suppose him to 
 have stood ; — -for, not to mention that he would, there, be 
 within call of his father, and able to observe him, when 
 he retired, in such deep distress, to the rock of Cormul, 
 ( which We must imagine such a son as Ossian to have been 
 
314 NOTES. Canto. V1IL 
 
 anxious to do ;) I did not see a more comfortable spot, nor 
 one more sheltered, for him to have slept on the night be* 
 fore, than the gently-rising ground hard by it : where he 
 would have been free from the intrusion, or observation of 
 the common herd. 
 
 Owing to the continued drought some time previous to 
 my visit, most of the small streams had dried : up. But I 
 could perceive channels enough to allow " the hundred 
 streams of MoMena" to shine to Ossian's eye ; when, *' the 
 sun looked forth from his cloud," after torrents of rain 
 descending on that mountainous country, (Canto VIII.) 
 
 Descending from the rock, towards the river, I paid par- 
 ticular attention to the undulation of the ground, and the 
 different points at which my view of the plain was inter- 
 rupted: and found it to correspond with what Ossian said 
 of his path, when he was sent to defend his brother Fillan, 
 (Canto VI.) 
 
 Returning to London-Derry, I passed through a valley, 
 to the south of the plain ; which struck me as resembling 
 the valley of Lona, to which Suilmalla retired. (Canto 
 VII.) If we allow the other suppositions to be correct, 
 it would be in rear of the Irish army. On the right (west) 
 of it is a hill, with a remarkable ridge of rock on its sum- 
 mit. I did not ascend it : being not a little fatigued, from 
 rambling over the rugged, — the <* ridgy heath," — as I 
 found it to my cost ; having got a few not very agreeable 
 tumbles, when gazing about : but, from its situation, — al- 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. $U 
 
 though not appearing to me to command a view of the ex* 
 tensive plain, — there " the din of battle" might have «* as- 
 cended to Claonmal's ear,'' (Can. VII.) ; and the " misty 
 vapour of the lake," (Canto VIII.)— {of Lough Foyle) 
 to the eye of Suilmalla. 
 
 It would be endless to mention the coincidence which 
 I remarked in the most trifling minutice, in even the limit- 
 ed examination, which time and strength allowed me to 
 inake on a very hot day. Suffice it to say, that, in my o- 
 pinion, the resemblance must be visible to every one, pro-* 
 perly qualified, who will take the trouble of making an ac- 
 curate comparison* But it is impossible for my feeble pen 
 to convey to the reader (whom I fear I have already tired 
 out) an adequate idea of the feeling my observations, ab 
 the time, excited in me. 
 
 I now come to the more agreeable task of communicat- 
 ing the result of the few, and hasty, enquiries, I have 
 since had leisure to make. Leaving the reader to judge, 
 whether the supposed resemblance is, or is not, the off- 
 spring of fancy — of an imagination too much alive to the 
 subject which then occupied it* 
 
 The country that I remarked, is called Kairn-a-Moyle, 
 i. e. the stone, or monument of Moyle : evidently referring 
 to some remarkable event having happened there. In its 
 vicinity are the following names of hills, &c. viz.— 
 Cormul. 
 Dun-more!. 
 
 V u 
 
m NOTES. Canto VlIL 
 
 Lena-more. 
 Moyle, {a village.) 
 
 TtJRE. 
 
 Having so much exceeded the bounds I proposed, in this 
 note, I leave the reader to compare them with the names 
 which occur in the poem : and to account, if he can, for 
 the astonishing coincidence. 
 
 On the shore of Lough Swilly,— a short distance to the 
 
 west of the hill, which I fancied to be Mora of Ossian, 
 
 is a remarkably white strand, agreeing with " the white 
 sands of Mora," {Fingal, book IV.) 
 
 Within about four miles (as I am informed) of Kairn- 
 a-Moyle, is the village of Cabra, or Cabre ; answering, 
 in. its distance from tm> supposed scene of action, to the 
 Gabhra, where Oscar and Cairbar are said to have fallen. 
 
 Since receiving this information, (which I had from 
 unquestionable authority,) I have not visited that part of 
 the country : but have made arrangements to pursue the 
 enquiry ; which I propose doing with all that impartiality 
 and precision, which the subject merits* 
 
 I am happy to say, that I was, last night, informed, that 
 a gentleman, who was a great admirer of the poems ascrib- 
 ed to Ossian, on coming home from shooting on the same 
 place, remarked, some years ago, to his family, that a si- 
 milar idea struck him. But it was never thought more of, 
 till my opinion being talked of, brought it to memory. 
 
 I cannot avoid congratulating the lovers of truth, on 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. 3I7 
 
 the fair prospect whicluseems to open, of setting the ques- 
 tion of the authenticity of the poems ascribed to Ossian,— „ 
 and, especially, of that, most of all, contested one, Te- 
 mora, — at rest, by the strongest internal evidence : and 
 am sorry it is not yet in my power, to give any thing more 
 conclusive on the subject ; but feel little doubt as to the 
 ultimate result. 
 
 I am aware that what I have now said, is at variance 
 with the commonly received notion, that Fingal landed at 
 Carrick fergus bay ; and that its vicinity was the theatre of 
 his actions. 
 
 I am ready to admit the possibility of his having land- 
 ed there, on some other occasions : but fancy I may chal- 
 lenge any one, however much he might have devoted him- 
 self to the enquiry, and however extended his researches 
 have been, to point out another spot, where an equal coin-' 
 cidence, in names and aspect of the country, can be 
 found.— -Or, to produce stronger presumptive evidence, 
 than that which has, so unexpectedly, burst upon my 
 view. 
 
 It may be worth while to say a few words, respecting 
 the probability of Connar, the son of Trenmore, having 
 first established his colony on the peninsula of Inishowen ; 
 and its having remained an important part of the territory 
 of, and a place of refuge to, his posterity, when pressed 
 by their southern neighbours. 
 
 Tl^e peninsula of Inishowen is of no mean extent. It is 
 
318 NOTES. Canto VIII. 
 
 washed by the waters of Lough S willy on the West ; by 
 Lough Foyle on the East, or rather South-East ; and has 
 the ocean on its North. The Southern extremity is join- 
 ed to the main land, by an isthmus of no great breadth, 
 bounded, to the South, by a chain of mountains, through 
 which there are but few passes ; and these easy of defence. 
 This isthmus was the identical spot I remarked. 
 
 Few places were more likely to attract the attention of 
 Connar, in the first instance, than this peninsula. It pre- 
 sented a ready communication with the mother-country, 
 which, or rather its isles, (I am told,) can plainly be dis- 
 tinguished from its hills, on a clear day. From its appear- 
 ance, we may be convinced that its forests were well stor- 
 ed with game ; and its shores with fish. I believe it will 
 be granted, that these constituted the riches of a country, 
 to the tribes of Albin. 
 
 As the mountains which bound its isthmus, have not a 
 very inviting appearance, to one coming from the South, 
 there was little temptation to intrude upon them. And, 
 it is not unlikely that Connar himself was the first to, en- 
 croach. 
 
 With respect to it, the chiefs of Alnecma (Connaught) 
 would be " chiefs of the south" : and a very direct inter- 
 course might have been opened with them, by the shore 
 of Lough Swilly. But would they not, rather, be called 
 Western chiefs, by Ossian, if he had been conversing, witfy 
 Jijs brother Fillan, pn the shore of Carrick-fergus bay I 
 
Canto VIII. NOTES. SI 9 
 
 I refer my reader to the poems in question. — Let him 
 compare the different passages in them, with the foregoing 
 remarks, — hastily made, and hastily penned; — intended 
 rather to awaken discussion, than to force upon him an 
 opinion, which I have not had time maturely to consider 
 myself; as it is only six months since I first saw Ossian's 
 poems. Let him ask himself whether M the lake of roes,'* 
 (Fing. Book VI.) did not mean Lough Swilly: — and whe- 
 ther the name Inishowen, was not originally Inishuna, or, 
 as Dr Graham has it, Inisnaine, i. e. green-island. Such 
 it would appear to a comer from Caledonia : and, perhaps, 
 at that period, they had no term to specify peninsula — J 
 do not mean the Inis-huna of Suilmalla: for, I would hum- 
 bly suggest, whether the isle of Man might not answer to 
 that ; and the bay of Carrick-fergus to the bay of Gulbin ; 
 (See the poem called Sul-malla of Lumon ; and Te- 
 mora, Canto VII.) 
 
 It is only fair to assure the reader that I had not the 
 most distant notion of the plain of Kairn-a-Moyle ever 
 having been remarked ; nor did I know the name of a 
 single place in that part of the country previous to my go- 
 ing on the ground ; so that I could not have viewed it with 
 a prejudiced eye. 
 
 END OF TUB NOTES 0N TEMORA. 
 
APPENDIX TO TEMORA. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 ( A ) " We see the doleful cloud of death" 
 
 It is impossible for us (limited as we are in our know- 
 ledge of the mythology and notions of the ancient Celts) 
 to come to an absolute determination as to what is meant 
 by " the cloud of death.*' My opinion is, that, as spirits 
 were supposed to cause all the phenomena of the elements, 
 our superstitious fore-fathers conceived warning ghosts 
 sometimes to occasion a sudden gloom, — a prognostic of 
 the death of their friends. This opinion receives some 
 confirmation from the succeeding expression, " while sha- 
 dows jly over their faces. 
 
 SECTION XIV. 
 
 (B) "a stone 
 
 " Of forms and curves. 19 
 
 The learned author of a critique on the former versifi- 
 cation c e ♦hU Canto ( whose translation I have followed in 
 
 F 
 
322 APPENDIX. 
 
 the above passage) remarks : " It would appear that Cair- 
 bar took refuge in the sanctuary of the day: that is, the 
 stone or stones standing on end, to which at this moment 
 much respect is paid. Behind one of these stones he sunk, 
 where he would have been safe, had he not abused the 
 privilege of the sanctuary. — " Cloiche nan cruth s nan 
 crom v is not easily translated — " Cruth 79 refers to the 
 forms or spirits worshipped, who were supposed to meet 
 the worshipper at the stone; and " Crom" refers to the 
 bowing or prostration of the worshipper : or " Cruth" re- 
 fers to the figures cut on the stone ; and u Crom 9 * to the 
 crooked lines or circles representing the attributes of the 
 divinity worshipped * * *. Macpherson barely men- 
 tions the stone without the slightest allusion to its sacred 
 character." (C) 
 
 I cannot avoid remarking, that the character of Fingal 
 is drawn with an uniform, and a masterly hand. If we bear 
 in mind the different situations in which Ossian has exhibit- 
 ed him, in the various poems where be is mentioned, the 
 difficulties which he had to contend with, and his conduct 
 from his very youth up to the period when his political life 
 closes ; we shall be led to consider him freer from the com- 
 mon frailties of humanity, than almost any other personage 
 whom history records. Left destitute in the midst of pow- 
 erful enemies, whom the rash conduct of his father had 
 raised up, — at a time, too, when his country appears to 
 have been harrassed with frequent invasions by the Ro- 
 mans; and, probably, tinctured with religious prejudices 
 
APPENDIX. 323 
 
 against his family — (for as Trenmor, his great- grand-fathes 
 is 6aid to have over-turned the Druidical form of govern- 
 ment, we cannot but suspect that some adherents to so long 
 established and crafty a system still existed) — we behold 
 him, while yet a boy, surmounting every obstacle ; reco- 
 vering the sovereignty; conciliating the affections of all 
 around him ; flying at every call to the assistance of his re- 
 latives and friends : and displaying a vigour and firmness 
 of character, and a benevolence of soul, such as we rarely 
 find united in the same person. 
 
 View him as a general, — he possesses valour, prudence, 
 and, above all, an intimate knowledge of human nature. 
 He seems actually to have an almost magical influence over 
 the minds of his followers, — their feelings are at his com- 
 mand, their confidence in him is unlimited. 
 
 View him as a king, — he is the protector of the helpless, 
 the defender of the oppressed, and the fearless guardian of 
 his country's rights. We never find him intoxicated with 
 success, although ever victorious. No irritation is suffi- 
 cient to excite a vindictive feeling in his breast : the office 
 dearest to his heart is the exercise of mercy ! — Witness his 
 conduct to the perfidious Starno, to Lathmon, to Swaran, 
 and lastly, to the dying Cathmor. Ambition, in the usual 
 acceptation of the word, hje had none ; — we never discover 
 him aggrandizing himself, or his family at the expense of 
 others ; we never hear of his enlarging his dominions : he 
 " lifts the spear'' only in self-defence, or « to rescue the 
 feeble," or " to curb the proud.'' Even in the proseeu- 
 
&* APPENDIX. 
 
 iion of his wars lie makes no unnecessary parade of his* 
 prowess. And in those speeches where he dwells most on 
 heroic actions, he appears more desirous of stimulating 
 others by his example, than of recommending himself to 
 notice through vain-glory. 
 
 In private life he was equally exemplary : Asa lover he 
 was ardent, tender, and faithful : And the general amiabi- 
 lity of his character, in other respects, may be inferred 
 from the estimation in which his friends held him, but more 
 especially? from the affection and respect of his children ; 
 who would die rather than incur his displeasure ! 
 
 Of the high value set on his friendship we have, indeed, 
 a most singular, and tremendous instance, in the Episode 
 which is introduced in *'« the war of caros'* — a father 
 kills his only son, for having justly brought down upon 
 himself the wrath of Fingal. 
 
 With respect to talent, — as a poet, as an orator, and as 
 a politician, he appears to have been highly gifted : and 
 fully to have merited the panegyric bestowed on him by 
 Ossian, in the poem of Carthon. And we cannot help con- 
 cluding, that, if it had been his lot to have wielded the 
 sceptre of a mighty empire, he would have shone as one of 
 the brightest ornaments of human nature, and been a dis- 
 tinguished blessing to his fellow creatures. 
 
 A desire to render this work useful to my youthful 
 readers has led me to give this sketch of a character so 
 worthy of their attention. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Fagz 6, line 15, for " The son of Ossian gallant," read, « The gallant son 
 of Ossian:' 
 14, lineS, for they, read, thy. 
 1 6, line 4, for half -quite, read, half-quit* 
 64, line 6, for Luman, read, Lumon. 
 90, lines 1 and 5, for who, read tu/jora. 
 93, line 17 was in the manuscript, — 
 
 " son of Morni' of steeds, behold the foe /'* 
 
 But it tvould be better to read, — 
 " steed-borne Morni's son, %c. 
 98, line 9, omit the word he. 
 114, line 9, fox led, read, leads. 
 
 137, for lines 3 and 4, — It would be far better to substitute the fol«» 
 lowing couplet, — 
 " He vow'd to raise Ms broad white-bosom' d sails, 
 " And soon to meet her in her own green vales" 
 172, line 14, for shades, read, screens. 
 176, line 14, for blasts, read, blast. 
 181, line 5, for kindred, read, hundred. 
 205, last line; for mighty, read, nightly. 
 2 1 2, line 9, for Cathmor's, read, Cathmor. 
 216, lines 17 and 18, the terminating words, strain and stain, should 
 
 change places. 
 240, line 3, for Insinaine, read, Inis-uaine. 
 
 Note. — This error of the press appears to run through all the 
 subsequent pages in which the word occurs. 
 250, line 19, read, '• Brave Larjhon, fyc. 
 257, line 2, read, " Which o'er thy blue waters roll !" 
 280, line 14, read, " o'er his helmet." 
 287, line 17, for feats, read, feasts. 
 291, line J 8, fox were, read, art. 
 293, line 17, read, " He saw the king of Atha laid," 
 519, line 14, for the Isle of Man, read, the Isle of Anglesey. 
 line 15, for the lay of Carrickfergiis, read, the lay of Dublin.* 
 
 * Perhaps I may offer the etymology of the word Gidbin as some con- 
 firmation of my conjecture, that the bay of Gulbin meant Dublin bay ; 
 Gul is the Gaelic for lamentation, weeping, crying out ; and Binn. or 
 Beinn is a hill, or the summit of a mountain : therefore the bay of Gcl- 
 binn literally signifies the bay of the hill of lamentation. Now the oldest 
 annals of Ireland speak of a pestilence having carried off a great number 
 of the inhabitants at the hill of Hoivth ; which, as every one must admit, 
 is by far the most striking feature in the bay of Dublin. — (See Fonafs 
 Song, Canto VII.) 
 
APPENDIX. 325 
 
 I copy the two following articles from Seward's To- 
 pographs Hibernica, — a book which has but very 
 lately come into my hands. — 
 
 " Moi-lena, situated in the district of Inishowen, 
 near Lough Foyle." 
 
 u Rath-crayan, otherwise called Atha, situated near 
 Elphin, in the county of Roscommon, province of Con- 
 naught ; it is now also denominated Cromchan, and Crog- 
 han, and anciently Drum-Druid, The Irish annals men- 
 tion a rath, or fort, being erected here by Eochy Feylogh, 
 in the time of Augustus Ccesar* The only remains of this 
 famous city, where once Cathmor, ** the friend of strangers," 
 exercised his unbounded hospitality, are, the Rath, the 
 Cave, and the Naasteaghan where the states of Connaught 
 assembled.'" 
 
 (D) " Doth rock her lofty hills, from sea to sea?' 
 
 I am led to imagine, that Ossian here alludes to that 
 chain of " lofty hills," which stretches across the isthmus 
 before mentioned, — reaching from the shore of Lough 
 Stvilly to Lough Foyle, One of these hills (if I mistake 
 not) still retains the name of Cromla ; and they appear 
 to me to bear some marks of having undergone the shock 
 of an earthquake. In fact I know of no other chain of 
 hills in Ireland reaching uninterruptedly "from sea to sea,*' 
 
326 APPENDIX. 
 
 Is not this also in favour of the presumption, that I 
 have pitched upon the real scene of action ? for Ossian is 
 particularly fond of drawing his similies, when possible, 
 from the scene of his poem ; and this chain, according to 
 my conjecture, is a part of the ground on which the bat- 
 tles were fought. 
 
 *** To the Reader, 
 
 The author is sorry to find tlmt t 
 in consequence of his being unavoidably absent while the 
 pages of Temora were printing, so many errors of the press 
 should have crept in. He hopes, however, that the reader 
 mil be hind enough to make the necessary corrections, — Vihich > 
 in some cases, are indispensable* 
 

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 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: March 2009 
 
 PreservationTechnologies 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 
 
 111 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
 (724)779-2111 
 
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