SLEEPS the sweet voice of Cona, in the midst of his rustling hall? Sleeps Ossian in his hall, and his friends without their fame? The sea rolls round the dark I-thona^** I-thonn, island of waves, one of the uninhabited western isles., and our tombs are not seen by the stranger. How long shall our fame be unheard, son of the ecchoing Morven?

O THAT mine eyes could behold thee, as thou sittest, dim, on thy cloud! Art thou like the mist of Lano; or an half extinguished meteor? Of what are the skirts of thy robe? Of what is thine airy bow? — But he is gone on his blast like the shadow of mist. — Come from thy wall, my harp, and let me hear thy sound. Let the light of memory rise on I-thona; that I may behold my friends. And Ossian does behold his friends, on the dark-blue isle. — The cave of Thona appears, with its mossy rocks and bending trees. A stream roars at its mouth, and Toscar bends over its course. Fercuth is sad by his side: and the maid^†† Cuthona the daughter of Rumar, whom Toscar had carried away by force. of his love sits at a distance, and weeps. Does the wind of the waves deceive me? Or do I hear them speak?

THE night was stormy. From their hills the groaning oaks came down. The sea darkly-tumbled beneath the blast, and the roaring waves were climbing against our rocks. — The lightning came often[Page 123] and shewed the blasted sern. — Fercuth! I saw the ghost of night^** It was long thought, in the North of Scotland, that storms were raised by the ghosts of the deceased. This notion is still entertained by the vulgar; for they think that whirlwinds, and sudden squalls of wind are occasioned by spirits, who transport themselves, in that manner, from one place to another.. Silent he stood, on that bank; his robe of mist flew on the wind. — I could behold his tears: an aged man he seemed, and full of thought.

IT was thy father, O Toscar; and he foresees some death among his race. Such was his appearance on Cromla, before the great Ma-ronnan^†† Ma ronnan was the brother of Toscar: the translator has a poem in his possession concerning the extraordinary death of that hero. fell. — Ullin^‡‡ Ulster in Ireland.! with thy hills of grass, how pleasant are thy vales! Silence is near thy blue streams, and the sun is on thy fields. Soft is the sound of the harp in Seláma^‖‖ Selamath — beautiful to behold, the name of Toscar's palace, on the coast of Ulster, near the mountain Cromla the scene of the epic poem., and lovely the cry of the hunter on Crómla. But we are in the dark I-thona, surrounded by the storm. The billows lift their white heads above our rocks: and we tremble amidst the night.

WHITHER is the soul of battle fled, Fercuth with the locks of age? I have seen thee undaunted in danger, and thine eyes burning with joy in the fight. Whither is the soul of battle fled? Our fathers never feared. — Go: view the settling sea: the stormy wind is laid. The billows still tremble^⸸⸸ — the face of ocean sleeps, And a still horror saddens all the deeps. POPE's Homer. on the deep, and seem to fear the blast. But view the settling sea: morning is gray on our rocks. The sun will look soon from his east; in all his pride of light.

I LIFTED up my sails, with joy, before the halls of generous Conlath. My course was by the isle of waves, where his love pursued the deer. I saw her, like that beam of the sun that issues from the cloud. Her hair was on her heaving breast; she, bending forward, drew the bow: her white arm seemed, behind her, like the snow of Cromla: — Come to my soul, I said, thou huntress of the isle of waves! But she spends her time in tears, and thinks of the generous Conlath. Where can I find thy peace, Cuthona, lovely maid!

^** Cu-thona, the mournful sound of the waves; a poetical name given her by Ossian, on acount of her mourning to the sound of the waves; her name in tradition is Gorm-huil, the blue-eyed maid. A DISTANT steep bends over the sea, with aged trees and mossy rocks: the billows roll at its feet: on its side is the dwelling of roes. The people call it Ardven. There the towers of Mora rise. There Conlath looks over the sea for his only love. The daughters of the chace returned, and he beheld their downcast eyes. Where is the daughter of Rumar? But they answered not. — My peace dwells on Ardven, son of the distant land!

AND Cuthona shall return to her peace; to the halls of generous Conlath. He is the friend of Toscar: I have feasted in his halls. — Rise, ye gentle breezes of Ullin, and stretch my sails towards Ardven's shores. Cuthona shall rest on Ardven: but the days of Toscar will be sad. — I shall sit in my cave in the field of the sun. The blast will rustle in my trees, and I shall think it is Cuthona's voice. But she is distant far, in the halls of the mighty Conlath.

OH! what cloud is that? It carries the ghosts of my fathers. I see the skirts of their robes, like gray and watry mist. When shall I fall, O Rumar? — Sad Cuthona sees her death. Will not Conlath behold me, before I enter the narrow house^** The grave.?

AND he will behold thee, O maid: he comes along the rolling sea. The death of Toscar is dark on his spear; and a wound is in his side. He is pale at the cave of Thona, and shews his ghastly wound^†† — inhumati venit image Conjugis, ora modis adtellens pallida miris Crudelis aras, trajectaque pector a serro Nudavit. —VIRG.— the ghost appears Of her unhappy Lord: the spectre stares, And with erected eyes his bloody bosom bares. DRYDEN.. Where art thou with thy tears, Cuthona? the chief of Mora dies. — The vision grows dim on my mind: — I behold the chiefs no more. But, O ye bards of future times, remember the fall of Conlath with tears: he fell before his day^‡‡ Nam quia nec fato, merita nec morte peribat, Sed misera ante diem, &c. VIRG.; and sadness darkened in his hall. His mother looked to his shield on the wall, and it was bloody^†† It was the opinion of the times, that the arms left by the heroes at home, became bloody the very instant their owners were killed, though at ever so great a distance.. She knew that her hero died, and her sorrow was heard on Mora.

ART thou pale on thy rock, Cuthona, beside the fallen chiefs? The night comes, and the day returns, but none appears to raise their tomb. Thou frightnest the screaming fowls^‖‖ The situation of Cuthona is like that of Rizpah, Saul's mistress, who sat by her sons after they had been hanged by the Gibeonites. And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of the harvest until water dropped on them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of prey by night. 2 SAM. xxi. 10. away, and thy tears forever flow. Thou art pale as a watry cloud, that rises from a lake.

THE sons of the desart came, and they found her dead. They raise a tomb over the heroes; and she rests at the side of Conlath. — Come not to my dreams, O Conlath; for thou hast received thy fame. Be thy voice far distant from my hall; that sleep may descend at night. O that I could forget my friends: till my footsteps cease to be seen! till I come among them with joy! and lay my aged limbs in the narrow house!