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of his native land. He often had spread the feast where he fell, and often raised the voice of the harp; when his dogs leapt around for joy, and the youths of the chase prepared the bow.

Still Swaran advanced, as a stream that bursts from the desert. The little hills are rolled in its course, and the rocks half-sunk by its side. But Cuchullin stood before him like a hill, that catches the clouds of heaven. The winds contend on its head of pines, and the hail rattles on its rocks.

But firm in its

strength, it stands and shades the silent vale of Cona.

So Cuchullin shaded the sons of Erin, and stood in the midst of thousands. Blood rises like the fount of a rock, from panting heroes around him. But Erin falls on either wing like snow in the day of the sun.

"O sons of Innisfail," said Grumal, "Lochlin conquers on the field. Why strive we as reeds against the wind! Fly to the hill of dark-brown hinds." He fled like the stag of Morven, and his spear is a trembling beam of light behind him. Few fled with Grumal, the chief of the little soul: they fell in the battle of heroes on Lena's echoing heath.

High on his car, of many gems, the chief of Erin stood; he slew a mighty son of Lochlin, and spoke, in haste, to Connal. "O Connal, first of mortal men, thou hast taught this arm of death! Though Erin's sons have fled, shall we not fight the foe? O Carril, son of other times, carry my living friends to that bushy hill. Here, Connal, let us stand like rocks, and save our flying friends."

Connal mounts the car of light. They stretch their shields like the darkened moon, the daughter of the starry skies, when she moves, a dun circle, through heaven. Sifadda panted up the hill, and Dunsronnal, haughty steed. whale, behind them rushed the foe.

Like waves behind a

Now on the rising side of Cromla stood Erin's few sad sons, like a grove through which the flame had rushed, hurried on by the winds of the stormy night. Cuchullin stood beside an oak. He rolled his red eye in silence, and heard the wind in his bushy hair, when the scout of ocean came, Moran, the son of Fithil. "The ships," he cried, "the ships of the lonely isle! There Fingal comes, the first of men, the breaker of the shields.

In silence near an oak Cuchullin stood,
His eye with red grief rolling and the wind
His bushy hair dishevelling, when appeared
The scout of the ocean, Moran, Fithil's son.
'Ships land,' he cried."

-SHACKLETON'S OSSIAN.

The waves foam before his black prows. His masts with sails are like groves in clouds."

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Blow," said Cuchullin, “all ye winds that rush over my isle of lovely mist. Come to the death of thousands, O chief of the hills of hinds. Thy sails, my friend, are to me like the clouds of the morning; and thy ships like the light of heaven; and thou thyself like a pillar of fire that giveth light in the night. O Connal, first of men, how pleasant are our friends! But the night is gathering around; where now are the ships of Fingal? Here let us pass the hours of darkness, and wish for the moon of heaven."

The winds came down on the woods. The torrents rushed from the rocks. Rain gathered round the head of Cromla; and the red stars trembled between the flying clouds. Sad, by the side of a stream whose sound was echoed by a tree, sad by the side of a stream the chief of Erin sat. Connal son of Colgar was there, and Carril of other times.

"Unhappy is the hand of Cuchullin," said the son of Semo, "unhappy is the hand of Cuchullin since he slew his friend. Ferda, thou son of Damman, I loved thee as myself."

"How, Cuchullin, son of Semo, fell the breaker of the shields? Well I remember," said Connal, "the noble son of Damman. Tall and fair he was, like the rainbow of the hill. Ferda from Albion came, the chief of a hundred hills. Muri's' hall he learned the sword, and won the friendship of Cuchullin. We moved to the chase together; and one was our bed in the heath."

In

Deugala was the spouse of Cairbar, chief of the plains of Ullin. She was covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the house of pride. She loved that sunbeain of youth, the noble son of Damman. "Cairbar," said the white-armed

1 Muri, say the Irish bards, was an academy in Ulster for teaching the use of arms. The signification of the word is a cluster of people; which renders the opinion probable.

woman, "give me half of the herd. No more I will remain in your halls. Divide the herd, dark Cairbar.”

"Let Cuchullin," said Cairbar, "divide my herd on the hill. His breast is the seat of justice. Depart, thou light of beauty."

I went and divided the herd. One snow-white bull remained.

I

gave that bull to Cairbar. The wrath of Deugala rose.

"Son of Damman," begun the fair, "Cuchullin pains my soul. I must hear of his death, or Lubar's stream shall roll over me. My pale ghost shall wander near thee, and mourn the wound of my pride. Pour out the blood of Cuchullin or pierce

this heaving breast."

"Deugala," said the fair-haired youth, "how shall I slay the son of Semo? He is the friend of my secret thoughts, and shall I lift the sword?" She wept three days before him; on the fourth he consented to fight.

"I will fight my friend, Deugala ! but may I fall by his sword. Could I wander on the hill and behold the grave of Cuchullin?" We fought on the hills of Muri. Our swords avoid a wound. They slide on the helmets of steel; and sound on the slippery shields. Deugala was near with a smile, and said to the son of Damman: "Thine arm is feeble, thou sunbeam of youth. years are not strong for steel. is like the rock of Malmor."

Thy

Yield to the son of Semo. He

The tear is in the eye of youth. "Cuchullin, raise thy bossy shield.

He, faltering, said to me:
Defend thee from the hand

of thy friend. My soul is laden with grief, for I must slay the chief of men."

I sighed as the wind in the chink of a rock. I lifted high the edge of my steel. The sunbeam of the battle fell; the first of Cuchullin's friends. Unhappy is the hand of Cuchuliin since the hero fell.

"Mournful is thy tale, son of the car," said Carril of other times. "It sends my soul back to the ages of old, and to the days of other years. Often have I heard of Comal who slew the friend he loved; yet victory attended his steel; and the battle was consumed in his presence."

Comal was a son of Albion; the chief of an hundred hills. His deer drunk of a thousand streams. A thousand rocks replied to the voice of his dogs. His face was the mildness of youth.

His hand the death of heroes. One was his love, and fair was she the daughter of mighty Conloch. She appeared like a sunbeam among women. And her hair was like the wing of the raven. Her dogs were taught to the chase. Her bow-string sounded on the winds of the forest. Her soul was fixed on Comal. Often met their eyes of love. Their course in the chase was one, and happy were their words in secret. But Gormal loved the maid, the dark chief of the gloomy Ardven. He watched her lone steps in the heath; the foe of unhappy Comal.

One day, tired of the chase, when the mist had concealed their friends, Comal and the daughter of Conloch met in the cave of Ronan. It was the wonted haunt of Comal. Its sides were hung with his arms. A hundred shields of thongs were there; a hundred helms of sounding steel.

"Rest here," he said, "my love Galvina; thou light of the cave of Ronan. A deer appears on Mora's brow. I go; but I will soon return." "I fear," she said, "dark Grumal my foe; he haunts the cave of Ronan. I will rest among the arms; but soon return, my love."

He went to the deer of Mora. The daughter of Conloch would try his love. She clothed her white sides with his armor, and strode from the cave of Ronan. He thought it was his foe. His heart beat high. His color changed, and darkness dimmed his eyes. He drew the bow. The arrow flew. Galvina fell in blood. He run with wildness in his steps and called the daughter of Conloch. No answer in the lonely rock. "Where art thou, O my love!" He saw at length her heaving heart beating around the feathered dart. "O Conloch's daughter, is it thou?" He sunk upon her breast.

The hunters found the hapless pair; he afterwards walked the hill. But many and silent were his steps round the dark dwelling of his love. The fleet of the ocean came. He fought; the strangers fled. He searched for his death over the field. But who could kill the mighty Comal! He threw away his darkbrown shield. An arrow found his manly breast. He sleeps with his loved Galvina at the noise of the sounding surge. Their green tombs are seen by the mariner, when he bounds on the waves of the north.

"The sailors bounding on the northern waves
With eager eyes their verdant tombs survey."
-SHACKLETON'S OSSIAN.

[graphic][merged small]

The Song of Selma Fingal in Battle - Death of -
Agandecca Death of Calmar-Arrival of
Fingal-Cuchullin Retires to a Cave-
Fingal's Victory-Oscar's Bravery
-Gaul, the Son of Morni.

"PLEASANT are the words of the song," said Cuchullin, "and lovely are the tales of other times.

They are like the calm dew

of the morning on the hill of roes, when the sun is faint on its side, and the lake is settled and blue in the vale. O Carril, raise again thy voice, and let me hear the song of Tura: which was sung in my halls of joy, when Fingal king of shields was there, and glowed at the deeds of his fathers."

"Fingal! thou man of battle," said Carril, "early were thy deeds in arms. Lochlin was consumed in thy wrath, when thy youth strove with the beauty of maids. They smiled at the fairblooming face of the hero ; but death was in his hands. He was strong as the waters of Lora. His followers were like the roar of a thousand streams. They took the king of Lochlin in battle, but restored him to his ships. His big heart swelled with pride, and the death of the youth was dark in his soul. For none ever, but Fingal, overcame the strength of the mighty Starno.'

1 Starno was the father of Swaran as well as Agandecca. His fierce and cruel character is well marked in other poems concerning the times.

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