THE WAR OF CAROS.

BRING, daughter of Toscar! bring the harp! the light of the song rises in Ossian's soul! It is like the field, when darkness covers the hills around, and the shadow grows slowly on the plain of the sun. I behold my son, O Malvina! near the mossy rock of Crona.* But it is the mist of the desert, tinged with the beam of the west! Lovely is the mist that assumes the form of Oscar! turn from it, ye winds, when ye roar on the side of Ardven.

Who comes towards my son, with the murmur of a song? His staff is in his hand, his grey hair loose on the wind. Surly joy lightens his face. He often looks back to Caros. It is Ryno† of songs, he that went to view the foe. "What "does Caros king of ships?" said the son of the now mournful Ossian, "spreads he the wings "of his pride, bard of the times of old!"-" He "spreads them, Oscar," replied the bard, "but "it is behind his gathered heap. He looks over his stones with fear. He beholds thee

Crona is the name of a small stream which runs into the Carron. Ryno is often mentioned in the ancient poetry. He seems to have been a bard of the first rank, in the days of Fingal.

The Roman eagle.

Agricola's wall, which Carausias repaired.

*terible as the ghost of night, that rolls the wave

" to his ships!"

"Go, thou first of my bards!" says Oscar, "take the spear of Fingal.

Fix a flame on its 66 point. Shake it to the winds of heaven.

Bid

❝ him, in songs, to advance, and leave the rolling "of his wave. Tell to Caros that I long for bat"tle; that my bow is weary of the chase of CoTell him the mighty are not here; and

"na.

"that my arm is young."

Oscar

He went with the murmur of songs. reared his voice on high. It reached his heroes on Ardven, like the noise of the cave, when the sea of Togorma rolls before it, and its trees meet the roaring winds. They gather round my son like the streams of the hill; when, after rain, they roll in the pride of their course. Ryno came to the mighty Caros. He struck his flaming spear. Come to the battle of Oscar, O thou that sittest on the rolling of waves! Fingal is distant far; he hears the songs of bards in Morven: the wind of his hall is in his hair. His terrible spear is at his side; his shield that is like the darkened moon! Come to the battle of Oscar; the hero is alone.

He came not over the streamy Carun.* The bard returned with his song. Grey night grows dim on Crona. The feast of shells is spread. A hundred oaks burn to the wind; faint light gleams

* The river Carron.

over the heath. The ghosts of Ardven pass through the beam, and show their dim and distant forms. Comala* is half unseen on her mete or; Hidallan is sullen and dim, like the darkened moon behind the mist of night.

"Why art thou sad?" said Rayno; for he alone beheld the chief. "Why art thou sad, "Hidallan! hast thou not received thy fame? "The songs of Ossian have been heard; thy "ghost has brightened in wind, when thou didst "bend from thy cloud, to hear the song of Mor"ven's bard!"- "And do thine eyes," said Oscar, "behold the chief, like the dim meteor of

night? Say, Ryno, say, how fell Hidallan, the "renowned in the days of my fathers? His name "remains on the rocks of Cona. I have often "seen the streams of his hills!"

Fingal, replied the bard, drove Hidallan from his wars. The king's soul was sad for Comala, and his eyes could not behold the chief. Lonely, sad along the heath, he slowly moved, with silent steps. His arms hang disordered on his side. His hair flies loose from his brow. The tear is in his down-cast eyes; a sigh half-silent in his breast! Three days he strayed unseen, alone, before he came to Lamor's halls: the mossy halls

This is the scene of Comala's death, which is the subject of the dramatic poem. The poet mentions her in this place, in order to introduce the sequel of Hidallan's story, who, on account of her death, had been expelled from the wars of Fingal.

of his fathers, at the stream of Balva.* There Lamor sat alone beneath a tree; for he had sent his people with Hidallan to war. The stream ran at his feet, his grey head rested on his staff. Sightless are his aged eyes.

He hums the song

of other times. The noise of Hidallan's feet came to his ear: he knew the tread of his son.

"Is the son of Lamor returned; or is it the "sound of his ghost? Hast thou fallen on the "banks of Carun, son of the aged Lamor? Or, "if I hear the sound of Hidallan's feet; where "are the mighty in the war? where are my peo"ple, Hidallan! that were wont to return with "their echoing shields? Have they fallen on the "banks of Carun?"

"No," replied the sighing youth, "the people "of Lamor live. They are renowned in war, my father! but Hidallan is renowned no more. "I must sit alone on the banks of Balva, when "the roar of the battle grows."

"But thy fathers never sat alone," replied the rising pride of Lamor. They never sat alone “on the banks of Balva, when the roar of bat"tle rose. Dost thou not behold that tomb? My eyes discern it not; there rests the noble Garmállon, who never fled from war! Come, "thou renowned in battle, he says, come to thy

*This is perhaps that small stream, still retaining the name of Balva, which runs through the romantic valley of Glentivar, in Stirlingshire. Balva signifies a silent stream; and Glentivar the sequestered vale.

"father's tomb.

How am I renowned, Garmál"lon? my son has fled from war!"

King of the streamy Balva!" said Hidallan with a sigh, "why dost thou torment my soul? "Lamor, I never fled. Fingal was sad for Co"mala; he denied his wars to Hidallan. Go to "the grey streams of thy land, he said; moulder "like a leafless oak, which the winds have bent 66 over Balva, never more to grow!"

"And must I hear," Lamor replied, "the lonely "tread of Hidallan's feet? When thousands are " renowned in battle, shall he bend over my grey "streams? Spirit of the noble Garmállon! carry "Lamor to his place; his eyes are dark, his soul " is sad, his son has lost his fame!"

"Where," said the youth, "shall I search for "fame, to gladden the soul of Lamor? From "whence shall I return with renown, that the "sound of my arms may be pleasant in his ear? "If I go to the chase of hinds my name will not "be heard. Lamor will not feel my dogs with "his hands, glad at my arrival from the hill. He "will not inquire of his mountains, or of the "dark-brown deer of his deserts!"

66

I must fall," said Lamor, "like a leafless "oak: it grew on a rock! it was overturned by "the winds! My ghost will be seen on my hills, "mournful for my young Hidallan. Will not

cr

ye, ye mists, as ye rise, hide him from my sight? "My son, go to Lamor's hall: there the arms of