CONLATH and CUTHÓNA: A POEM.

CONLATH and CUTHÓNA : A POEM Conlath was the youngest of Morni's sons , and brother to the celebrated Gaul , who is so often mentioned in Ossian's poems . He was in love with Cuthóna the daughter of Rumar , when Toscar the son of Kinfena , accompanied by Fercuth his friend , arrived , from Ireland , at Mora where Conlath dwelt . He was hospitably received , and according to the custom of the times , feasted , three days , with Conlath . On the fourth he set fail , and coasting the island of waves , probably , one of the Hebrides , he saw Cuthóna hunting , fell in love with her , and carried her away , by force , in his ship . He was forced , by stress of weather , into I-thona a desart isle . In the mean-time Conlath , hearing of the rape , sailed after him , and found him on the point of sailing for the coast of Ireland . They fought ; and they , and their followers fell by mutual wounds . Cuthóna did not long survive : for she died of grief the third day after . Fingal , hearing of their unfortunate death , sent Stormal the son of Moran to bury them , but forgot to send a bard to sing the funeral song over their tombs . The ghost of Conlath came , long after , to Ossian , to intreat him to transmit , to posterity , his and Cuthona's fame . For it was the opinion of the times , that the souls of the deceased were not happy , till their elegies were composed by a bard . — Thus is the story of the poem handed down by tradition . .

DID not Ossian hear a voice ? or is it the sound of days that are no more ? Often does the memory of former times come , like the evening sun , on my soul . The noise of the chace is renewed ; and , in thought , I lift the spear . — But Ossian did hear a voice : Who art thou , son of the night ? The sons of little men are asleep , and the midnight wind is in my hall . Perhaps it is the shield of Fingal that echoes to the blast , it hangs in Ossian's hall , and he feels it sometimes with his hands . — Yes ! — I hear thee , my friend ; long has thy voice been absent from mine ear ! What brings thee , on thy cloud , to Ossian , son of the generous Morni ? Are the friends of the aged near thee ? Where is Oscar , son of fame ? — He was often near thee , O Conlath , when the din of battle rose .

GHOST of CONLATH .

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 ?

OSSIAN .

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 ?

TOSCAR .

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 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 .

FERCUTH .

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 .

TOSCAR .

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 .

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 !

TOSCAR .

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 .

CUTHONA .

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 . ?

OSSIAN .

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 !