"war? Who art thou, son of night? Stand'st ❝thou before me, a form of the times of old? A "voice from the fold of a cloud, to warn me of "the danger of Erin?"

"Nor lonely scout am I, nor voice from folded "cloud," she said; "but I warn thee of the dan

ger of Erin. Dost thou hear that sound? It "is not the feeble king of Atha, that rolls his "signs on night."

"Let the warrior roll his signs," he replied; "to Cathmor they are the sounds of harps. My "joy is great, voice of night, and burns over all

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The

my thoughts. This is the music of kings, on "lonely hills, by night; when they light their "daring souls, the sons of mighty deeds. "feeble dwell alone, in the valley of the breeze; "where mist lift their morning skirts, from the "blue winding streams."

"Not feeble, king of men, were they, the "fathers of my race. They dwelt in the folds "of battle, in their distant lands. Yet delights "not my soul, in the signs of death! He, who never yields, comes forth: O send the peace!"

*

bard of

From this

Fingal is said to have never been overcome in battle. proceeded that title of honour which is always bestowed on him in tradition, Fiön gal na huai', Fingal of victories. In a poem just now in my hands, which celebrates some of the great actions of Arthur the famous British hero, that appellation is often bestowed on him, The poem, from the phraseology, appears to be ancient, and is, perhaps, though that is not mentioned, a translation from the Welsh language.

Like a dropping rock, in the desert, stood Cathmor in his tears. Her voice came, a breeze,

on his soul, and waked the memory of her land; where she dwelt by her peaceful streams, before he came to the war of Conmor.

"Daughter of strangers," he said, (she trembling turned away,) "long have I marked thee "in thy steel, young pine of Inis-huna.

But

my soul, I said, is folded in a storm. Why "should that beam arise, till my steps return in

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peace? Have I been pale in thy presence, as "thou bidst me to fear the king? The time of ' danger, O maid, is the season of my soul; for "then it swells a mighty stream, and rolls me on "the foe."

"Beneath the moss-covered rock of Lona, near his own load stream; grey in his locks of "age dwells Clonmal king of harps. Above "him is his echoing tree, and the dun bounding "of roes. The noise of our strife reaches his

ear, as he bends in the thoughts of years. There "let thy rest be, Sul-malla, until our battle cease. “Until I return, in my arms, from the skirts of "the evening mist, that rises, on Lona, round the dwelling of my love."

6.6

A light fell on the soul of the maid: it rose kindled before the king. She turned her face

* 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 originally.

to Cathmor, from amidst her waving locks. "Sooner shall the eagle of heaven be torn from "the stream of his roaring wind, when he sees the "dun prey before him, the young sons of the bounding roe, than thon, O Cathmor, be turn"ed from the strife of renown. Soon may I see "thee, warrior, from the skirts of the evening “mist, when it is rolled around me, on Lona of "the streams. While yet thou art distant far, "strike, Cathmor, strike the shield, that joy may "return to my darkened soul, as I lean on the

mossy rock. But if thou shouldst fall, I am in "the land of strangers; O send thy voice, from "thy cloud, to the maid of Inis-huna!"

"Young branch of green-headed Lumon, why "dost thou shake in the storm? Often has Cath“mor returned, from darkly-rolling wars. The "darts of death are but hail to me: they have "often rattled along my shield. I have risen

brightened from battle, like a meteor from a "stormy cloud. Return not, fair beam, from "thy vale, when the roar of battle grows. "Then might the foe escape, as from thy fathers "of old.

"They told to Son-mor,* of Clunar,+ who " was slain by Cormac in fight. Three days

*Son-mor, tall handsome man. He was the father of Borbar-duthul chief of Atha, and grandfather to Cathmor himself.

+ Cluan-er, man of the field. This chief was killed in battle by Cor. mac Mac-Conar, king of Ireland, the father of Ros-crána, the first wife of Fingal. The story is alluded to in some ancient poems.

"darkened Son-mor, over his brother's fall. His

spouse beheld the silent king, and foresaw his "steps to war. She prepared the bow, in secret, "to attend her blue-shielded hero. To her "dwelt darkness, at Atha, when he was not "there. From their hundred streams, by night, "poured down the sons of Alnecma. They had "heard the shield of the king, and their rage In clanging arms, they moved along, "towards Ullin of the groves. Son-mor struck "his shield, at times, the leader of the war,

❝ arose.

"Far behind followed Sul-allin,* over the She was a light on the moun

"streamy hills.

"tain, when they crossed the vale below.

Her

steps were stately on the vale, when they rose "on the mossy hill. She feared to approach the "king, who left her in echoing Atha. But when "the roar of battle rose; when host was rolled "on host; when Son-mor burnt, like the fire of "heaven in clouds, with her spreading hair came "Sul-allin; for she trembled for her king. He

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stopt the rushing strife to save the love of he"roes. The foe fled by night; Clunar slept " without his blood; the blood which ought to be "poured upon the warrior's tomb.

"Nor rose the rage of Son-mor, but his days << were silent and dark. Sul-allin wandered, by "her grey streams, with her tearful eyes. Often "did she look on the hero, when he was folded in

" his thoughts.

But she shrunk from his eyes,
Battles rose,

" and turned her lone steps away.

"like a tempest, and drove the mist from his soul. "He beheld, with joy, her steps in the hall, and "the white rising of her hands on the harp."

In his arms strode the chief of Atha, to where his shield hung, high, in night; high on a mossy bough, over Lubar's streamy roar. Seven bosses rose on the shield; the seven voices of the king, which his warriors received from the wind, and marked over all their tribes.

On each boss is placed a star of night; Can-mathon with beams unshorn; Col-derna rising from a cloud: Ul-oicho robed in mist; and the soft beam of Cathlin glittering on a rock. Smiling, on its own blue wave, Rel-durath half sinks its western light. The red eye of Berthin looks, through a grove, on the hunter, as he returns by night, with the spoils of the bounding roe. Wide, in the midst, arose the cloudless beam of Ton-théna, that star, which looked by night, on the course of the sea-tossed Larthon; Larthon, the first of Bolga's race, who travelled on the winds.† White bo

*To avoid multiplying notes, I shall give here the signification of the names of the stars, engraved on the shield. Cean-mathon, head of the bear. Colderna, slant and sharp beam. Ul-oicho, ruler of night. Cathlin, beam of the wave. Reul-durath, star of the twilight. Berthin, fire of the hill. Ton-thena, meteor of the waves. These etymologies, excepting that of Cean-mathon, are pretty exact. Of it I am not so certain; for it is not very probable, that the Fir-bolg had distinguished a constellation, so very early as the days of Larthon, by the name of the bear.

To travel on the winds, a poetical expression for sailing.