COLNA-DONA:
A POEM.
ARGUMENT.
Fingal dispatches Ossian and Toscar, the son of Conloch and
father of Malvina, to raise a stone on the banks of the stream
of Crona, to perpetuate the memory of a victory, which he
had obtained in that place. When they were employed in
that work, Car-ul, a neighbouring chief, invited them to a
feast. They went: and Toscar fell desperately in love with
Colna-dona, the daughter of Car-ul. Colna-dona became
no less enamoured of Toscar. An incident, at a hunting
party, brings their loves to a happy issue.
Macpherson.
Col-amon of troubled streams
Col-amon of troubled streams, dark wanderer
of distant vales, I behold thy course, between
trees, near Car-ul's echoing halls! There dwelt
bright Colna-dona, the daughter of the king.
Her eyes were rolling stars; her arms were white
as the foam of streams. Her breast rose slowly
to sight, like ocean's heaving wave. Her soul
was a stream of light. Who, among the maids,
was like the love of heroes?
Beneath the voice of the king, we moved to
Crona of the streams, Toscar of grassy Lutha,
and Ossian, young in fields. Three bards attended
with songs. Three bossy shields were borne
before us; for we were to rear the stone, in memory
of the past. By Crona's mossy course,
Fingal had scattered his foes: he had rolled
away the strangers, like a troubled sea. We
came to the place of renown; from the mountains
descended night. I tore an oak from its
hill, and raised a flame on high. I bade my fathers
to look down, from the clouds of their hall;
for, at the fame of their race, they brighten in
the wind.
I took a stone from the stream, amidst the
song of bards. The blood of Fingal's foes hung
curdled in its ooze. Beneath, I placed, at intervals,
three bosses from the shields of foes, as rose
or fell the sound of Ullin's nightly song. Toscar
laid a dagger in earth, a mail of sounding steel.
We raised the mould around the stone, and bade
it speak to other years.
Oozy daughter of streams, that now art reared
on high, speak to the feeble, O stone, after Selma's
race have failed! Prone, from the stormy
night, the traveller shall lay him, by thy side:
thy whistling moss shall sound in his dreams;
the years that were past shall return. Battles rise
before him, blue-shielded kings descend to war:
the darkened moon looks from heaven, on the
troubled field. He shall burst, with morning,
from dreams, and see the tombs of warriors
round. He shall ask about the stone; and the
aged shall reply, “This grey stone was raised by
Ossian, a chief of other years!”
From Col-amon came a bard, from Car-ul, the
friend of strangers. He bade us to the feast of
kings, to the dwelling of bright Colna-dona.
We went to the hall of harps. There Car-ul
brightened between his aged locks, when he beheld
the sons of his friends, like two young
branches before him.
“Sons of the mighty,” he said, “ye bring
back the days of old, when first I descended from
waves, on Selma's streamy vale! I pursued Duthmocarglos,
dweller of ocean's wind. Our fathers
had been foes, we met by Clutha's winding waters.
He fled, along the sea, and my sails were
spread behind him. Night deceived me, on the
deep I came to the dwelling of kings, to Selma of
high-bosomed maids. Fingal came forth with
his bards, and Conloch, arm of death. I feasted
three days in the hall, and saw the blue-eyes
of Erin, Ros-crana, daughter of heroes, light of
Cormac's race. Nor forgot did my steps depart:
the kings gave their shields to Car-ul:
they hang, on high, in Col-amon, in memory of
the past. Sons of the daring kings, ye bring
back the days of old!”
Car-ul kindled the oak of feasts. He took
two bosses from our shields. He laid them in
earth, beneath a stone, to speak to the hero's
race. “When battle,” said the king, “shall
roar, and our sons are to meet in wrath, my
race shall look, perhaps, on this stone, when
they prepare the spear. Have not our fathers met
in peace, they will say, and lay aside the shield?”
Night came down. In her long locks moved
the daughter of Car-ul. Mixed with the harp
arose the voice of white-armed Colna-dona.
Toscar darkened in his place, before the love of
heroes. She came on his troubled soul, like a
beam to the dark-heaving ocean: when it bursts
from a cloud, and brightens the foamy side of a
wave. [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
With morning we awaked the woods; and
hung forward on the path of the roes. They fell
by their wonted streams. We returned through
Crona's vale. From the wood a youth came
forward, with a shield and pointless spear.
“Whence,” said Toscar of Lutha, “is the flying
beam? Dwells there peace at Col-amon, round
bright Colna-dona of harps?”
“By Col-amon of streams,” said the youth,
“bright Colna-dona dwelt. She dwelt; but her
course is now in deserts, with the son of the
king; he that seized with love her soul as it
wandered through the hall.” “Stranger of tales,”
said Toscar, “hast thou marked the warrior's
course? He must fall, give thou that bossy
shield!” In wrath he took the shield. Fair behind
it rose the breasts of a maid, white as the
bosom of a swan, rising graceful on swift-rolling
waves. It was Colna-dona of harps, the daughter
of the king! Her blue eyes had rolled on
Toscar, and her love! arose!