"his spear. Let us be renowned, O Aldo, in the "battles of other lands!"

They took their swords, their shields of thongs. They rushed to Lumar's resounding bay. They came to Sora's haughty king, the chief of bounding steeds. Erragon had returned from the chase. His spear was red in blood. He bent his dark face to the ground; and whistled as he went. took the strangers to his feasts: they fought and conquered in his wars.

He

Aldo returned with his fame towards Sora's lofty walls. From her tower looked the spouse of Erragon, the humid, rolling eyes of Lorma. Her yellow hair flies on the wind of ocean, Her white breast heaves, like snow on heath: when the gentle winds arise, and slowly move it in the light. She saw young Aldo, like the beam of Sora's setting sim. Her soft heart sighed. Tears filled her eyes. Her white arm supported her head. Three days she sat within the hall, and covered her grief with joy. On the fourth she fled with the hero, along the troubled sea. They came to Cona's mossy towers, to Fingal king of spears.

"Aldo of the heart of pride!" said Fingal, rising in wrath: "shall I defend thee from the rage of Sora's injured king? who will now re

"ceive my people into their halls? Who will

t

I give the feast of strangers, since Aldo, of the "little soul, has dishonoured my name in Sora?

VOL. II.

R

"Go to thy hills, thou feeble hand! Go: hide "thee in thy caves. Mournful is the battle we "must fight, with Sora's gloomy king. Spirit "of the noble Trenmor! When will Fingal

cease to fight? I was born in the midst of bat"tles, and my steps must move in blood to the "tomb. But my hand did not injure the weak,

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my steel did not touch the feeble in arms. I "behold thy tempests, O Merven! which will "overturn my halls! when my children are dead "in battle, and none remains to dwell in Selma. "Then will the feeble come, but they will not "know my tomb. My renown is only in song.

My deeds shall be as a dream to future times!"

His people gathered around Erragon, as the storms round the ghosts of night; when he calls them from the top of Morven, and prepares to pour them on the land of the stranger. He came to the shore of Cona. He sent his bard to the king; to demand the combat of thousands; or the land of many hills! Fingal sat in his hall with the friends of his youth around him. The young heroes were at the chase, far distant in the desert. The grey-haired chiefs talked of other times; of the actions of their youth; when the aged Nartmort came, the chief of streamy Lora.

This is no time," said Nartmor, "to hear the 66 songs of other years: Erragon frowns on the

* Comhal, the father of Fingal, was slain in battle, against the tribe of Morni, the very day that Fingal was born; so that he may, with propriety, be said to have been born in the midst of battles.

Neart-mór, great strength. Lora, noisy.

coast, and lifts ten thousand swords. Gloomy "is the king among his chiefs! he is like the "darkened moon amidst the meteors of night; "when they sail along her skirts, and give the

light that has failed o'er her orb." "Come," said Fingal, "from thy hall, come, daughter of "my love: come from thy hall, Bosmina,* maid "of streamy Morven! Nartmor, take the steeds "of the strangers. Attend the daughter of Fingal! Let her bid the king of Sora to our feast, "to Selma's shaded wall. Offer him, O Bos"mina! the peace of heroes, and the wealth of generous Aldo. Our youths are far distant. Age is on our trembling hands!"

She came to the host of Erragon, like a beam of light to a cloud. In her right hand was seen a sparkling shell. In her left an arrow of gold. The first, the joyful mark of peace! The latter, the sign of war. Erragon brightened in her presence as a rock, before the sudden beams of the sun; when they issue from a broken cloud, divided by the roaring wind!

"Son of the distant Sora," began the mildly blushing maid, "come to the feast of Morven's king, to Selma's shaded walls. Take the peace " of heroes, Ó warrior! Let the dark sword rest

by thy side. Choosest thou the wealth of kings? "Then hear the words of generous Aldo. He

*Bos-mhína, soft and tender hand. She was the youngest of FiRgal's children.

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gives to Erragon an hundred steeds, the child"ren of the rein: an hundred maids from dis"tant lands; an hundred hawks with fluttering

wing, that fly across the sky. An hundred* "girdles shall also be thine, to bind high-bosomed "maids. The friends of the births of heroes. "The cure of the sons of toil. Ten shells stud"ded with gems shall shine in Sora's towers: the bright water trembles on their stars, and seems "to be sparkling wine. They gladdened once "the kings of the world, in the midst of their

echoing halls. These, O hero! shall be thine; or thy white-bosomed spouse. Lorma shall "roll her bright eyes in thy halls; though Fingal "loves the generous Aldo: Fingal, who never in"jured an hero, though his arm is strong!"

"Soft voice of Cona!" replied the king, "tell "him, he spreads his feast in vain. Let Fingal pour his spoils around me. Let him bend be"neath my power. Let him give me the swords "of his fathers: the shields of other times: that 66 my children may behold them in my halls, and say, 'These are the arms of Fingal.' "Never "shall they behold them in thy halls!" said the rising pride of the maid. "They are in the hands "of heroes, who never yielded in war. King of

* Sanctified girdles, till very lately, were kept in many families in the north of Scotland; they were bound about women in labour, and were supposed to alleviate their pains, and to accelerate the birth They were impressed with several mystical figures, and the ceremony of binding them about the woman's waist, was accompanied with words and gestures which showed the custom to have come originally from the Druids.

+ The Roman emperors.

"echoing Sora! the storm is gathering on our hills. "Dost thou not foresee the fall of thy people, "6 son of the distant land?"

She came to Selma's silent halls. The king beheld her down-cast eyes. He rose from his place, in his strength. He shook his aged locks. He took the sounding mail of Trenmor. The darkbrown shield of his fathers. Darkness filled Sel

ma's hall, when he stretched his hand to his spear: the ghosts of thousands were near, and foresaw the death of the people. Terrible joy rose in the face of the aged heroes. the foe. Their thoughts are on the deeds of other years: and on the fame that rises from death!

They rushed to meet

*

Now at Trathal's ancient tomb the dogs of the chase appeared. Fingal knew that his young heroes followed. He stopped in the midst of his course. Oscar appeared the first; then Morni's son, and Némi's race. Fercuth showed his gloomy form. Dermid spread his dark hair on wind. Ossian came the last. I hummed the song of other times. My spear supported my steps over the little streams. My thoughts were of mighty men. Fingal struck his bossy shield; and gave the dismal sign of war. A thousand swords, at once unsheathed, gleam on the waving heath. Three grey-haired sons of song raise the tuneful mournful voice. Deep and dark, with sound

Fear-cuth, the same with Fergus, the man of the word, or a commander of an army.