The poems of Ossian &c. containing the Poetical Works of James Macpherson, Esq. in prose and rhyme: with notes and illustrations by Malcolm Laing. In two volumes |
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2. | DUAN SECOND. |
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The poems of Ossian | ||
DUAN SECOND.
ARGUMENT.
Fingal returning, with day, devolves the command on Duth-maruno, who engages the enemy, and drives them over the stream of Turthor. Having recalled his people, he congratulates Duth-maruno on his success; but discovers, that that hero had been mortally wounded in the action.—Duth-maruno dies. Ullin, the bard, in honour of the dead, introduces the episode of Colgorm and Strina-dona, which concludes this duän. Macpherson.
“Where art thou, son of the king,” said dark-haired Duth-maruno? “Where hast thou failed, young beam of Selma? He returns not, from the bosom of night! Morning is spread on Uthorno. In his mist is the sun, on his hill. Warriors, lift the shields, in my presence. He must not fall, like a fire from heaven, whose place is not marked on the ground. He comes, like an eagle from the skirt of his squally wind! In his hand are the spoils of foes. King of Selma, our souls were sad!
“Near us are the foes, Duth-maruno. They come forward, like waves in mist, when their
“The deeds of old,” said Duth-maruno, “are like paths to our eyes, O Fingal. Broad-shielded Trenmor is still seen, amidst his own dim years. Nor feeble was the soul of the king. There, no dark deed wandered in secret. From their hundred streams came the tribes, to grassy Colglancrona. Their chiefs were before them. Each strove to lead the war. Their swords were often half unsheathed. Red rolled their eyes of rage. Separate they stood, and hummed their surly songs. “Why should they yield to each other?
“Not unknown,” said Cromma-glass of shields, “are the deeds of our fathers. But who shall now lead the war, before the race of kings? Mist settles on these four dark hills: within it let each warrior strike his shield. Spirits may descend in darkness, and mark us for the war.”
They went, each to his hill of mist. Bards marked the sounds of the shields. Loudest rung thy boss, Duth-maruno. Thou must lead in war!
Like the murmur of waters, the race of U-thorno
Strife of gloomy U-thorno, why should I mark thy wounds! Thou art with the years that are gone! thou fadest on my soul!
Starno brought forward his skirt of war, and Swaran his own dark wing. Nor a harmless fire is Duth-maruno's sword. Lochlin is rolled over her streams. The wrathful kings are lost in thought. They roll their silent eyes, over the flight of their land. The horn of Fingal was heard; the sons of woody Albion returned. But many lay, by Turthor's stream, silent in their blood.
“Chief of Crathmo,” said the king, “Duth-maruno, hunter of boars! not harmless returns my eagle, from the field of foes! For this white-bosomed Lanul shall brighten, at her streams; Candona shall rejoice, as he wanders in Crathmo's fields.”
“Colgorm,” replied the chief, “was the first of my race in Albion; Colgorm, the rider of ocean, through its watry vales. He slew his brother in I-thorno: he left the land of his fathers. He chose his place, in silence, by rocky Crathmo-craulo. His race came forth, in their years; they came forth to war, but they always fell. The wound of my fathers is mine, king of echoing isles!”
He drew an arrow from his side! He fell pale,
Night came down on U-thorno. Still stood the chiefs in their grief. The blast whistled by turns, through every warrior's hair. Fingal, at length, broke forth from the thoughts of his soul. He called Ullin of harps, and bade the song to rise. “No falling fire, that is only seen, and then retires in night; no departing meteor was he that is laid so low. He was like the
I-thorno, said the bard, that risest midst ridgy seas! why is thy head so gloomy, in the ocean's mist? From thy vales came forth a race, fearless as thy strong-winged eagles; the race of Colgorm of iron shields, dwellers of Loda's hall.
In Tormoth's resounding isle, arose Lurthan, streamy hill. It bent its woody head over a silent vale. There, at foamy Cruruth's source, dwelt Rurmar, hunter of boars! His daughter was fair as a sun-beam, white-bosomed Strina-dona!
Many a king of heroes, and hero of iron shields; many a youth of heavy locks came to Rurmar's echoing hall. They came to woo the maid, the stately huntress of Tormoth wild. But thou lookest careless from thy steps, high-bosomed Strina-dona!
If on the heath she moved, her breast was whiter than the down of Cana; if on the sea-beat
Colgorm came, in his ship, and Corcul-Suran, king of shells. The brothers came, from I-thorno, to woo the sun-beam of Tormoth wild. She saw them in their echoing steel. Her soul was fixed on blue-eyed Colgorm. Ul-lochlin's nightly eye looked in, and saw the tossing arms of Strina-dona.
Wrathful the brothers frowned. Their flaming eyes, in silence, met. They turned away. They struck their shields. Their hands were trembling on their swords. They rushed into the strife of heroes, for long-haired Strina-dona.
Corcul-suran fell in blood. On his isle raged the strength of his father. He turned Colgorm, from I-thorno, to wander on all the winds. In
The poems of Ossian | ||