The Poems of Ossian: The Son of Fingal (Classic Reprint)

Grey on the bank and far from men, half covered by ancient pines, from the wind, a lone ly pile exalts its head, long-flaaken by the florms of the north. To this fled Sigurd, fierce in fight, from Harold the leader of armies, when fate had brightened his fpear with renown; when he conquered in that rude field, where Lulan's warriors fell in blood, or rofe, in terror, on the waves of the main. Darkly fat the grey haired chief yet forrow dwelt not in his foul. But when the warrior thought on the pail, his proud heart heaved again his fide forth-flew his fword from its place he wounded Harold in all the winds.

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