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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
Macpherson, James (1736-1796)

collapse sectionI. 
VOL. I.
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FINGAL, AN EPIC POEM;
 I. 
BOOK I.
 II. 
BOOK II.
 III. 
BOOK III.
 IV. 
BOOK IV.
 V. 
BOOK V.
 VI. 
BOOK VI.
  
COMALA:
  
THE WAR OF CAROS:
  
THE WAR OF INIS-THONA:
  
THE BATTLE OF LORA:
  
CONLATH AND CUTHONA:
  
CARTHON:
  
THE DEATH OF CUTHULLIN:
  
DAR-THULA:
  
CARRIC-THURA:
  
THE SONGS OF SELMA.
  
CALTHON AND COLMAL:
  
LATHMON:
  
OITHONA:
  
CROMA:
  
BERRATHON:
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VOL. II.
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TEMORA:
 I. 
BOOK I.
 II. 
BOOK II.
 III. 
BOOK III.
 IV. 
BOOK IV.
 V. 
BOOK V.
 VI. 
BOOK VI.
 VII. 
BOOK VII.
 VIII. 
BOOK VIII.
  
CATHLIN OF CLUTHA:
  
SULMALLA OF LUMON:
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CATH-LODA:
 1. 
DUAN FIRST.
 2. 
DUAN SECOND.
 3. 
DUAN THIRD.
  
OINA-MORUL:
  
COLNA-DONA:
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FRAGMENTS OF ANCIENT POETRY,
 I. 
I. SHILRIC, VINVELA.
 II. 
II. [I sit by the mossy fountain]
 III. 
III. [Evening is grey on the hills]
 IV. 
IV. CONNAL, CRIMORA.
 V. 
V. Autumn is dark on the mountains
 VI. 
VI. [Son of the noble Fingal]
 VII. 
VII. [Why openest thou afresh the spring of my grief]
 VIII. 
VIII. [By the side of a rock]
 IX. 
IX. [Thou askest, fair daughter of the isles!]
 X. 
X. [It is night]
 XI. 
XI. [Sad! I am sad indeed]
 XII. 
XII. RYNO, ALPIN.
 XIII. 
XIII. [Raise high the stones]
 XIV. 
XIV. [Cuchulaid sat by the wall]
 XV. 
XV. DUCHOMMAR, MORNA.
 XVI. 
XVI. [Where is Gealchossa]
  
THE SIX BARDS,
  
DEATH:
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THE HUNTER:
 I. 
CANTO I.
 II. 
CANTO II.
 III. 
CANTO III.
 IV. 
CANTO IV.
 V. 
CANTO V.
 VI. 
CANTO VI.
collapse sectionVII. 
CANTO VII.
  
Monday, 29th November.
  
November 30.
  
2d December, 1756.
 VIII. 
CANTO VIII.
 IX. 
CANTO IX.
 X. 
CANTO X.
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THE HIGHLANDER:
 I. 
CANTO I.
 II. 
CANTO II.
 III. 
CANTO III.
 IV. 
CANTO IV.
 V. 
CANTO V.
 VI. 
CANTO VI.
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
  
ON THE DEATH OF MARSHAL KEITH.
  
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.
  
TO THE MEMORY OF AN OFFICER KILLED BEFORE QUEBEC.
  
THE EARL MARISCHAL'S WELCOME TO HIS NATIVE COUNTRY.
  
HORACE,
  
HORACE,
  
THE CHOICE.
  
WRITTEN ON A BIRTH DAY.
  
THE MONUMENT.
  
VERSES SENT TO A YOUNG LADY, WITH SOME TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ERSE.
  
THE CAVE.
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FRAGMENTS FROM TYRTÆUS.
 I. 
FRAGMENT I.
 II. 
FRAGMENT II.
 III. 
FRAGMENT III.
  
ANACREON, ODE IV. TRANSLATED.
  
ANACREON, ODE VIII.
  
IN ANSWER TO A LETTER FROM DELIA.
  
A NIGHT-PIECE.
  
VERSES TO A YOUNG LADY.
  
FRAGMENT OF A NORTHERN TALE.
  
THE SAME VERSIFIED.

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590

ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.

Lamented shade! thy fate demands a tear,
An offering due to thy untimely bier;
Accept then, early tenant of the skies,
The genuine drops that flow from friendship's eyes!
Those eyes which raptured hung on thee before,
Those eyes which never shall behold thee more:
So early hast thou to the tomb retired,
And left us mourning what we once admired.
For this did beauty's fairest hand arise
On all your shape, and kindle in your eyes?
For this did virtue form your infant mind,
And make thee best, as fairest of thy kind?
Did all the powers for this their gifts bestow,
And only charm us to increase our woe?
A moment bless us with celestial day,
Then envious snatch the sacred beam away?
Recall the beauteous prize they lately gave,
And bid our tears descend on Anna's grave?
591

How did the mother see her daughter rise,
A lovely plant to bless her aged eyes!
How oft in thought her future pleasure trace,
Appoint her husband, and enjoy her race!
But now no husband shall enjoy that bloom,
Nor offspring rise from the unfruitful tomb.
An unexpected gift the virgin came,
The last, but fairest, of a falling name;
A ray to light a father's eve she shone,
And healed the loss of many a buried son:
But soon invading darkness chased away
The beauteous setting of a glorious day;
Soon Heaven, which gave, again resumed its own;
And of his family he remains alone.
His thoughts in her refined no more he'll trace,
Or view his features softened in her face;
No more in secret on her beauty gaze,
Or hide his gladness when he hears her praise:
Mute is the tongue which pleased his soul before,
And beauty blushes in that cheek no more.
Peace, gentle shade, attend thy balmy rest,
And earth sit lightly on thy snowy breast;
Let guardian angels gently hover round,
And downy silence haunt the hallowed ground:
There let the Spring its sweetest offspring rear,
And sad Aurora shed her earliest tear.
Some future maid perhaps, as she goes by,
Shall view the place where her cold reliques lie:
Folly for once may sadden into care,
And pride, unconscious, shed one generous tear;
While this big truth is swelling in the breast,
That death nor spares the fairest nor the best;
That virtue feels the unalterable doom,
And beauty's self must moulder in the tomb.
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