Fragments Of Ancient Poetry | Page 8

stay. Raise my?tomb, Crimora.
CRIMORA,
Then give me those arms of light;?that sword, and that spear of steel. I?shall meet Dargo with thee, and aid my?lovely Connal. Farewell, ye rocks of?Ardven! ye deer! and ye streams of?the hill!--We shall return no more.?Our tombs are distant far.
V
Autumn is dark on the mountains;?grey mist rests on the hills. The?whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark?rolls the river through the narrow plain.?A tree stands alone on the hill, and?marks the grave of Connal. The leaves?whirl round with the wind, and strew?the grave of the dead. At times are?seen here the ghosts of the deceased,?when the musing hunter alone stalks?slowly over the heath.
Who can reach the source of thy?race, O Connal? and who recount thy?Fathers? Thy family grew like an oak?on the mountain, which meeteth the?wind with its lofty head. But now it?is torn from the earth. Who shall supply?the place of Connal?
Here was the din of arms; and?here the groans of the dying. Mournful?are the wars of Fingal! O Connal!?it was here thou didst fall. Thine arm?was like a storm; thy sword, a beam?of the sky; thy height, a rock on the?plain; thine eyes, a furnace of fire.?Louder than a storm was thy voice,?when thou confoundedst the field. Warriors?fell by thy sword, as the thistle by?the staff of a boy.
Dargo the mighty came on, like a?cloud of thunder. His brows were contracted?and dark. His eyes like two?caves in a rock. Bright rose their?swords on each side; dire was the clang?of their steel.
The daughter of Rinval was near;?Crimora, bright in the armour of man;?her hair loose behind, her bow in her?hand. She followed the youth to the?war, Connal her much beloved. She?drew the string on Dargo; but erring?pierced her Connal. He falls like an?oak on the plain; like a rock from the?shaggy hill. What shall she do, hapless?maid!--He bleeds; her Connal dies.?All the night long she cries, and all the?day, O Connal, my love, and my?friend! With grief the sad mourner?died.
Earth here incloseth the loveliest?pair on the hill. The grass grows between?the stones of their tomb; I sit in?the mournful shade. The wind sighs?through the grass; and their memory?rushes on my mind. Undisturbed you?now sleep together; in the tomb of the?mountain you rest alone.
VI
Son of the noble Fingal, Oscian,?Prince of men! what tears run down?the cheeks of age? what shades thy?mighty soul?
Memory, son of Alpin, memory?wounds the aged. Of former times are?my thoughts; my thoughts are of the?noble Fingal. The race of the king return?into my mind, and wound me with?remembrance.
One day, returned from the sport of?the mountains, from pursuing the sons?of the hill, we covered this heath with?our youth. Fingal the mighty was here,?and Oscur, my son, great in war. Fair?on our sight from the sea, at once, a?virgin came. Her breast was like the?snow of one night. Her cheek like the?bud of the rose. Mild was her blue?rolling eye: but sorrow was big in her?heart.
Fingal renowned in war! she cries,?sons of the king, preserve me! Speak secure,?replies the king, daughter of beauty,?speak: our ear is open to all: our?swords redress the injured. I fly from?Ullin, she cries, from Ullin famous in?war. I fly from the embrace of him?who would debase my blood. Cremor,?the friend of men, was my father; Cremor?the Prince of Inverne.
Fingal's younger sons arose; Carryl?expert in the bow; Fillan beloved of?the fair; and Fergus first in the race.?--Who from the farthest Lochlyn??who to the seas of Molochasquir? who?dares hurt the maid whom the sons of?Fingal guard? Daughter of beauty, rest?secure; rest in peace, thou fairest of women.
Far in the blue distance of the deep,?some spot appeared like the back of the?ridge-wave. But soon the ship increased?on our sight. The hand of Ullin drew?her to land. The mountains trembled?as he moved. The hills shook at his?steps. Dire rattled his armour around?him. Death and destruction were in his?eyes. His stature like the roe of Morven.?He moved in the lightning of?steel.
Our warriors fell before him,?like the field before the reapers. Fingal's?three sons he bound. He plunged?his sword into the fair-one's breast.?She fell as a wreath of snow before the?sun in spring. Her bosom heaved in?death; her soul came forth in blood.?Oscur my son came down; the?mighty in battle descended. His armour?rattled as thunder; and the lightning of?his eyes was terrible. There, was the?clashing of swords; there, was the voice?of steel. They struck and they thrust;?they digged for death with their swords.?But death was distant far, and delayed?to come. The sun began to decline;?and the cow-herd thought of home.?Then Oscur's keen steel found the heart?of Ullin. He fell like a mountain-oak?covered over with glittering frost: He?shone like a rock on the plain.--Here?the daughter of beauty lieth; and?here the bravest of men. Here one?day ended the fair and the valiant.?Here rest the pursuer and the pursued.
Son of Alpin! the woes of the aged?are many: their tears are