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were strong in fight. They were my rock in “ danger; the mountain from which I spread my

eagle-wings. Thence am I renowned. Car“ ril forget not the low!"

Loud, at once, from the hundred bards, rose the song of the tomb. Carril strode before them, they are the murmur of streams behind his steps. Silence dwells in the vales of Moi-lena, where each, with its own dark rill, is winding between the hills. I heard the voice of the bards, lessening, as they moved along. I leaned forward from my shield; and felt the kindling of my soul. Half-formed, the words of my song burst forth upon the wind. So hears a tree, on the vale, the voice of spring around. It pours its green leaves to the sun. It shakes its lonely head. The hum of the mountain bee is near it; the hunter sees it, with joy, from the blasted heath.

Young Fillan at a distance stood. His helmet lay glittering on the ground. His dark hair is loose to the blast. A beam of light is Clatho's son! He heard the words of the king, with joy. He leaned forward on his spear.

My son,” said car-borne Fingal; thy deeds, and any soul was glad. The fame “ of our fathers, I said, bursts from its gathering " cloud. Thou art brave, son of Clatho! but “ headlong in the strife. So did not Fingal ad

vance, though he never feared a foe. Let thy ~ people be a ridge behind. They are thy

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strength in the field. Then shalt thou be long “ renowned, and behold the tombs of the old. “ The memory of the past returns my deeds in “ other years: when first I descended from ocean “ on the green vallied isle."

We bend towards the voice of the king. The moon looks abroad from her cloud. The greyskirted mist is near: the dwelling of the ghosts!

TEMORA.

BOOK IV.

ARGUMENT.-The second night continues. Fingal re

lates, at the feast, his own first expedition into Ireland, and his marriage with Klos-crána, 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 behaviour of Foldath, who had commanded in the battle of the preceding day, renews the difference between hina and Malthos ; but Cathmor, interposing, ends it. The chiefs feast, and hear the song of Fonar the bard. Cathmor returns to rest, at a distance from the army. The ghost of his brother Cairbar appears to him in a dream; and obscurely foretels the issue of the war. The soliloquy of the king. He discovers Sul-malla. Morning comes. Her soliloquy closes the book.

BENEATH* an oak,” said the king, "I sat “ on Selma's streamy rock, when Connal rose, “ from the sea, with the broken

of DuthFar distant stood the youth. He turn“ed away his eyes. He remembered the steps “ of his father, on his own green hills. I dark“ened in my place. Dusky thoughts flew over

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caron.

* This episode has an immediate connexion with the story of Connal and Duth-caron, in the latter end of the third book. Fingal, sitting beneath an oak, near the palace of Selma, discovers Connal just landed 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.

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“ my soul. The kings of Erin rose before me. “ I half-unsheathed the sword. Slowly approach“ed the chiefs. They lifted up their silent eyes. “ Like a ridge of clouds, they wait for the burst“ing forth of my voice. My voice was, to them, “ a wind from heaven, to roll the mist away.

“ I bade my white sails to rise, before the roar “ of Cona's wind. Three hundred youths looked, from their waves, on Fingal's bossy shield.

High on the mast it hung, and marked the “ dark-blue sea. But when night came down, I “struck, at times, the warning boss: I struck, " and looked on high, for fiery-haired Ul-erin.* “ Nor absent was the star of heaven. It travel“ led red between the clouds. I pursued the

lovely beam, on the faint-gleaming deep. With morning, Erin rose in mist. We came in the

bay of Moi-lena, where its blue waters tumbled, “ in the bosom of echoing woods. Here Cor

mac, in his secret hall, avoids the strength of “ Colc-ulla. Nor he alone avoids the foe. The “ blue eye of Ros-crana is there: Ros-crana,t “ white-handed maid, the daughter of the king!

* 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.

+ Ros-crana, the beam of the rising sun; she was the mother of Ossian. The Irish bards relate strange fictions concerning this princess. Their stories, however, concerning Fingal, if they meant him by Fion Mac-Comnal, are so inconsistent and notoriously fabulous, that they do not deserve to be mentioned ; for they evidently bear, along with them, the marks of late invention.

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“Grey, on his pointless spear, came forth the aged steps of Cormac. He smiled, from his waving locks; but grief was in his soul. He

saw us few before hiin, and his sigh arose. “I see the arms of Trenmor,' he said; and “ these are the steps of the king! Fingal! thou “ art a beam of light to Cormac's darkened soul.

Early is thy fame, my son: but strong are the « foes of Erin. They are like the roar of streams “ in the land, son of car-borne Comhal !' Yet “they may be rolled * away,' I said in my rising

• We are not of the race of the feeble, king of blue-shielded hosts! Why should fear

come amongst us, like a ghost of night? The “soul of the valiant grows, when foes increase in “ the field. "Roll no darkness, king of Erin, on “ the young in war!”

“ The bursting tears of the king came down. “ He seized my hand in silence. • Race of the

daring Trenmor!' at length he said, I roll no “ cloud before thee. Thou burnest in the fire of

thy fathers. I behold thy fame. It marks thy

course in battle, like a stream of light. But “ wait the coming of Cairbar;t my son must join

* Cormac had said that the foes were like the roar of streams, and Fingal continues the metaphor. The speech of the young hero is spir. ited, and consistent with that sedate intrepidity which eminently distinguishes his character throughout.

+ Cairbar, the son of Cormac, was afterwards king of Ireland. His reign was short. He was succeeded by bis son Artho, the father of that Cormac who was murdered by Cairbar, the son of Borbar-duthul. Cairbar, the son of Cormac, long after his son Artho was grown to man's estate, had, by his wife Beltanno, another was Ferad-artho. He was the only one remaining of the race of Co

whose name

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