our father's hang. Bring the sword of Gar"mállon: he took it from a foe!" He went and brought the sword with all its studded thougs. He gave it to his father. The grey-haired hero felt the point with his hand. My son, lead me to Garmállon's tomb: it "rises beside that rustling tree. The long grass " is withered; I hear the breezes whistling there. "A little fountain murmurs near, and sends its "water to Balva. There let me rest; it is noon: "the sun is on our fields!" He led him to Garmállon's tomb. Lamor pierced the side of his son. They sleep together: their ancient halls moulder away. Ghosts are seen there at noon: the valley is silent, and the people shun the place of Lamor. "Mournful is thy tale," said Oscar, son of "the times of old! My soul sighs for Hidallan; "he fell in the days of his youth. He flies on "the blast of the desert; his wandering is in a "foreign land. Sons of the echoing Morven! "draw near to the foes of Fingal. Send the "night away in songs; watch the strength of "Caros. Oscar goes to the people of other times? "to the shades of silent Ardven, where his fathers "sit dim in their clouds, and behold the future war. And art thou there, Hidallan, like a half extinguished meteor? Come to my sight, in thy sorrow, chief of the winding Balva!" The heroes move with their songs. Oscar slowly ascends the hill. The meteors of night set on the heath before him. A distant torrent faintly roars. Unfrequent blasts rush through aged oaks. The half-enlightened moon sinks dim and red behind her hill. Feeble voices are heard on the heath. Oscar drew his sword! "Come," said the hero, "O ye ghosts of my "fathers! ye that fought against the kings of the "world! Tell me the deeds of future times; and your converse in your caves, when you talk together, and behold your sons in the fields of "the brave." Trenmor came from his hill, at the voice of his mighty son. A cloud, like the steed of the stranger, supported his airy limbs. His robe is of the mist of Lano, that brings death to the people. His sword is a green meteor half-extinguished. His face is without form, and dark. He sighed thrice over the hero: thrice the winds of night roared around! Many were his words to Oscar; but they only came by halves to our ears; they were dark as the tales of other times, before the light of the song arose. He slowly vanished, like a mist that melts on the sunny hill. It was then, O daughter of Toscar! my son began first to be sad. He foresaw the fall of his race. At times he was thoughtful and dark, like the sun when he carries a cloud on his face, but again he looks forth from his darkness on the green hills of Cona. Oscar passed the night among his fathers; grey morning met him on Carun's banks. A green vale surrounded a tomb which arose in the times of old. Little hills lift their heads at a distance, and stretch their old trees to the wind. The warriors of Caros sat there, for they had passed the stream by night. They appeared like the trunks of aged pines, to the pale light of the morning. Oscar stood at the tomb, and raised thrice his terrible voice. The rocking hills echoed around; the starting roes bounded away: and the trembling ghosts of the dead fled, shrieking on their clouds. So terrible was the voice of my son when he called his friends! A thousand spears arose around; the people of Caros rose. Why, daughter of Toscar, why that tear? My son, though alone, is brave. Oscar is like a beam of the sky; he turns around, and the people fall. His hand is the arm of a ghost, when he stretches it from a cloud; the rest of his thin form is unseen; but the people die in the vale! My son beheld the approach of the foe; he stood in the silent darkness of his strength. "Am I alone," said Oscar," in the midst of a "thousand foes? Many a spear is there! many "a darkly-rolling eye! Shall I fly to Ardven? "But did my fathers ever fly? The mark of "their arms is in a thousand battles. Oscar too "shall be renowned! Come, ye dim ghosts of "my fathers, and behold my deeds in war! I |