TEMORA
:
AN
EPIC
POEM
Though
the
history
which
is
the
foun
dation
of
the
present
poem
,
was
given
in
the
notes
on
the
two
pieces
preceding
,
it
may
not
be
here
improper
to
recapitulate
some
part
of
what
has
been
said
.
—
Imme
diately
after
the
death
of
Cuchullin
,
Cair
bar
,
lord
of
Atha
,
openly
set
up
for
him
self
in
Connaught
,
and
having
privately
murdered
young
king
Cormac
,
became
,
without
opposition
,
sole
monarch
of
Ire
land
.
The
murder
of
Cormac
was
so
much
resented
by
Fingal
,
that
he
resolved
on
an
expedition
into
Ireland
against
Cair
bar.
Early
intelligence
of
his
designs
came
to
Cairbar
,
and
he
had
gathered
the
tribes
together
into
Ulster
,
to
oppose
Fingal's
landing
;
at
the
same
time
his
brother
Cathmor
kept
himself
with
an
army
near
Temora
.
—
This
Cathmor
is
one
of
the
finest
characters
in
the
old
poetry
.
His
humanity
,
generosity
,
and
hospitality
,
were
unparallelled
:
in
short
,
he
had
no
fault
,
but
too
much
attachment
to
so
bad
a
brother
as
Cairbar
.
—
The
present
poem
has
its
name
from
Temora
,
the
royal
palace
of
the
Irish
kings
,
near
which
the
last
and
de
cisive
battle
was
fought
between
Fingal
and
Cathmor
.
What
has
come
to
the
translator's
hands
,
in
a
regular
connection
,
is
little
more
than
the
opening
of
the
poem
.
—
This
work
appears
,
from
the
story
of
it
,
which
is
still
preserv'd
,
to
have
been
one
of
the
greatest
of
Ossian's
compositions
.
The
variety
of
the
characters
makes
it
in
teresting
;
and
the
war
,
as
it
is
carried
on
by
Fingal
and
Cathmor
,
affords
instances
of
the
greatest
bravery
,
mixed
with
incom
parably
generous
actions
and
sentiments
.
One
is
at
a
loss
for
which
side
to
declare
himself
:
and
often
wishes
,
when
both
commanders
march
to
battle
,
that
both
may
return
victorious
.
At
length
the
good
fortune
of
Fingal
preponderates
,
and
the
family
of
Cormac
are
re-established
on
the
Irish
throne
.
The
Irish
traditions
relate
the
affair
in
another
light
,
and
exclaim
against
Fingal
for
appointing
thirty
judges
,
or
rather
ty
rants
,
at
Temora
,
for
regulating
the
affairs
of
Ireland
.
They
pretend
to
enumerate
many
acts
of
oppression
committed
by
those
judges
;
and
affirm
,
that
both
they
and
a
part
of
Fingal's
army
,
which
was
left
in
Ireland
to
enforce
their
laws
,
were
at
last
expelled
the
kingdom
.
—
Thus
the
Irish
tra
ditions
,
say
the
historians
of
that
nation
.
It
is
said
,
however
,
that
those
gentlemen
sometimes
create
facts
,
in
order
afterwards
to
make
remarks
upon
them
;
at
least
,
that
they
adopt
for
real
facts
,
the
traditions
of
their
bards
,
when
they
throw
lustre
on
the
ancient
state
of
their
country
.
The
present
poem
opens
in
the
morning
.
Cairbar
is
represented
as
retired
from
the
rest
of
the
Irish
chiefs
,
and
tormented
with
remorse
for
the
murder
of
Cormac
,
when
news
was
brought
him
of
Fingal's
landing
.
What
passed
,
preceding
that
day
,
and
is
necessary
to
be
known
for
carrying
on
the
poem
,
is
afterwards
introduced
by
way
of
episode
.
.
THE
blue
waves
of
Ullin
roll
in
light
.
The
green
hills
are
covered
with
day
.
Trees
shake
their
dusky
heads
in
the
breeze
;
and
gray
torrents
pour
their
noisy
streams
.
—
Two
green
hills
,
with
their
aged
oaks
,
surround
a
narrow
plain
.
The
blue
course
of
the
mountain-stream
is
there
;
Cairbar
stands
on
its
banks
.
—
His
spear
supports
the
king
:
the
red
eyes
of
his
fear
are
sad
.
Cormac
rises
in
his
soul
,
with
all
his
ghastly
wounds
.
The
gray
form
of
the
youth
appears
in
the
midst
of
darkness
,
and
the
blood
pours
from
his
airy
sides
.
—
Cairbar
thrice
threw
his
spear
on
earth
;
and
thrice
he
stroked
his
beard
.
His
steps
are
short
;
he
often
stopt
:
and
tossed
his
sinewy
arms
.
He
is
like
a
cloud
in
the
desart
;
that
varies
its
form
to
every
blast
:
the
valleys
are
sad
around
,
and
fear
,
by
turns
,
the
shower
.
THE
king
,
at
length
,
resumed
his
soul
,
and
took
his
pointed
spear
.
He
turned
his
eyes
towards
Lena
The
scene
described
here
is
nearly
that
of
the
epic
poem
,
Fingal
.
In
this
neighbourhood
also
the
sons
of
Usnoth
were
killed
.
.
The
scouts
of
ocean
appear
.
They
appeared
with
steps
of
fear
,
and
often
looked
behind
.
Cairbar
knew
that
the
mighty
were
near
,
and
called
his
gloomy
chiefs
.
The
sounding
steps
of
his
heroes
came
.
They
drew
,
at
once
,
their
swords
.
There
Morlath
Mór-lath
,
great
in
the
day
of
battle
.
Hidalla
'
,
wildly
looking
hero
.
Cor-mar
,
ex
pert
at
sea
.
Málth-os
,
slow
to
speak
.
Fol
dath
,
generous
.
stood
with
darkened
face
.
Hidalla's
bushy
hair
sighs
in
the
wind
.
Red-haired
Cormar
bends
on
his
spear
,
and
rolls
his
side-long-looking
eyes
.
Wild
is
the
look
of
Malthos
from
beneath
two
shaggy
brows
.
—
Foldath
stands
like
an
oozy
rock
,
that
covers
its
dark
sides
with
foam
;
his
spear
is
like
Slimora's
fir
,
that
meets
the
wind
of
heaven
.
His
shield
is
marked
with
the
strokes
of
battle
;
and
his
red
eye
despises
danger
.
These
and
a
thousand
other
chiefs
surrounded
car-borne
Cairbar
,
when
the
scout
of
ocean
came
,
Mor-annal
Mór-annail
,
strong
breath
;
a
very
pro
per
name
for
a
scout
.
,
from
streamy
Lena
.
—
His
eyes
hang
forward
from
his
face
,
his
lips
are
trembling
,
pale
.
Do
the
chiefs
of
Erin
stand
,
he
said
,
silent
as
the
grove
of
even
ing
?
Stand
they
,
like
a
silent
wood
,
and
Fingal
on
the
coast
?
Fingal
,
who
is
terrible
in
battle
,
the
king
of
streamy
Morven
.
AND
hast
thou
seen
the
warrior
,
said
Cairbar
with
a
sigh
?
Are
his
heroes
many
on
the
coast
?
Lifts
he
the
spear
of
battle
?
Or
comes
the
king
in
peace
?
HE
comes
not
in
peace
,
O
Cairbar
:
for
I
have
seen
his
forward
spear
Mor-annal
here
alludes
to
the
parti
cular
appearance
of
Fingal's
spear
.
—
If
a
man
,
upon
his
first
landing
in
a
strange
country
,
kept
the
point
of
his
spear
for
ward
,
it
denoted
in
those
days
that
he
came
in
a
hostile
manner
,
and
accordingly
he
was
treated
as
an
enemy
;
if
he
kept
the
point
behind
him
,
it
was
a
token
of
friend
ship
,
and
he
was
immediately
invited
to
the
feast
,
according
to
the
hospitality
of
the
times
.
It
is
a
meteor
of
death
:
the
blood
of
thousands
is
on
its
steel
.
—
He
came
first
to
the
shore
,
strong
in
the
gray
hair
of
age
.
Full
rose
his
sinewy
limbs
,
as
he
strode
in
his
might
.
That
sword
is
by
his
side
which
gives
no
second
This
was
the
famous
sword
of
Fingal
,
made
by
Luno
,
a
smith
of
Lochlin
,
and
after
him
poetically
called
the
son
of
Luno
:
it
is
said
of
this
sword
,
that
it
killed
a
man
at
every
stroke
;
and
that
Fingal
never
used
it
,
but
in
times
of
the
greatest
danger
.
wound
.
His
shield
is
terrible
,
like
the
bloody
moon
,
when
it
rises
in
a
storm
.
—
Then
came
Ossian
king
of
songs
;
and
Morni's
son
,
the
first
of
men
.
Connal
leaps
forward
on
his
spear
:
Dermid
spreads
his
dark-brown
locks
.
—
Fillan
bends
his
bow
:
Fergus
strides
in
the
pride
of
youth
.
Who
is
that
with
aged
locks
?
A
dark
shield
is
on
his
side
.
His
spear
trembles
at
every
step
;
and
age
is
on
his
limbs
.
He
bends
his
dark
face
to
the
ground
;
the
king
of
spears
is
sad
!
—
It
is
Usnoth
,
O
Cairbar
,
coming
to
revenge
his
sons
.
He
sees
green
Ullin
with
tears
,
and
he
remembers
the
tombs
of
his
children
.
But
far
before
the
rest
,
the
son
of
Ossian
comes
,
bright
in
the
smiles
of
youth
,
fair
as
the
first
beams
of
the
sun
.
His
long
hair
falls
on
his
back
.
—
His
dark
brows
are
half
hid
beneath
his
helmet
of
steel
.
His
sword
hangs
loose
on
the
heroe's
side
.
His
spear
glitters
as
he
moves
.
I
fled
from
his
terrible
eyes
,
king
of
high
Temora
!
THEN
fly
,
thou
feeble
man
,
said
the
gloomy
wrath
of
Foldath
:
fly
to
the
gray
streams
of
thy
land
,
son
of
the
little
soul
!
Have
not
I
seen
that
Oscar
?
I
beheld
the
chief
in
battle
.
He
is
of
the
mighty
in
danger
:
but
there
are
others
who
lift
the
spear
.
—
Erin
has
many
sons
as
brave
:
yes
—
more
brave
,
O
car-borne
Cairbar
!
—
Let
Foldath
meet
him
in
the
strength
of
his
course
,
and
stop
this
mighty
stream
.
—
My
spear
is
covered
with
the
blood
of
the
valiant
;
my
shield
is
like
Tura's
wall
.
SHALL
Foldath
alone
meet
the
foe
,
replied
the
dark-browed
Malthos
?
Are
not
they
numerous
on
our
coast
,
like
the
waters
of
a
thousand
streams
?
Are
not
these
the
chiefs
who
vanquished
Swaran
,
when
the
sons
of
Erin
fled
?
And
shall
Foldath
meet
their
bravest
hero
?
Foldath
of
the
heart
of
pride
!
take
the
strength
of
the
people
by
thy
side
;
and
let
Malthos
come
.
My
sword
is
red
with
slaughter
,
but
who
has
heard
my
words
That
is
,
who
has
heard
my
vaunting
?
He
intended
the
expression
as
a
rebuke
to
the
self-praise
of
Foldath
.
?
SONS
of
green
Erin
,
begun
the
mild
Hidalla
,
let
not
Fingal
hear
your
words
:
lest
the
foe
rejoice
,
and
his
arm
be
strong
in
the
land
.
—
Ye
are
brave
,
O
warriors
,
and
like
the
tempests
of
the
desart
;
they
meet
the
rocks
without
fear
,
and
overturn
the
woods
in
their
course
.
—
But
let
us
move
in
our
strength
,
and
slow
as
a
gathered
cloud
,
when
the
winds
drive
it
from
behind
.
—
Then
shall
the
mighty
tremble
,
and
the
spear
drop
from
the
hand
of
the
valiant
.
—
We
see
the
cloud
of
death
,
they
will
say
;
and
their
faces
will
turn
pale
.
Fingal
will
mourn
in
his
age
;
and
say
that
his
fame
is
ceased
.
—
Morven
will
behold
his
chiefs
no
more
:
the
moss
of
years
shall
grow
in
Selma
.
CAIRBAR
heard
their
words
,
in
silence
,
like
the
cloud
of
a
shower
:
it
stands
dark
on
Cromla
,
till
the
lightning
bursts
its
side
:
the
valley
gleams
with
red
light
;
the
spirits
of
the
storm
rejoice
.
—
So
stood
the
silent
king
of
Temora
;
at
length
his
words
are
heard
.
SPREAD
the
feast
on
Lena
:
and
let
my
hundred
bards
attend
.
And
thou
,
red-hair'd
Olla
,
take
the
harp
of
the
king
.
Go
to
Oscar
king
of
swords
,
and
bid
him
to
our
feast
.
To-day
we
feast
and
hear
the
song
;
to-morrow
break
the
spears
.
Tell
him
that
I
have
raised
the
tomb
of
Cathol
Cathol
the
son
of
Maronnan
,
or
Moran
,
was
murdered
by
Cairbar
,
for
his
attachment
to
the
family
of
Cormac
.
He
had
attended
Oscar
to
the
war
of
Inis-thona
,
where
they
contracted
a
great
friendship
for
one
an
other
.
Oscar
,
immediately
after
the
death
of
Cathol
,
had
sent
a
formal
challenge
to
Cairbar
,
which
he
prudently
declined
,
but
conceived
a
secret
hatred
against
Oscar
,
and
had
beforehand
contrived
to
kill
him
at
the
feast
,
to
which
he
here
invited
him
.
;
and
that
my
bards
have
sung
to
his
ghost
.
—
Tell
him
that
Cairbar
has
heard
his
fame
at
the
stream
of
distant
Carun
He
alludes
to
the
battle
of
Oscar
against
Caros
,
king
of
ships
;
who
is
supposed
to
be
the
same
with
Carausius
the
usurper
.
.
CATHMOR
Cath-mór
,
great
in
battle
.
Cairbar
takes
advantage
of
his
brother's
absence
,
to
per
petrate
his
ungenerous
designs
against
Os
car
;
for
the
noble
spirit
of
Cathmor
,
had
he
been
present
,
would
not
have
permitted
the
laws
of
that
hospitality
,
for
which
he
was
so
renowned
himself
,
to
be
violated
.
The
brothers
form
a
contrast
:
we
do
not
detest
the
mean
soul
of
Cairbar
more
,
than
we
admire
the
disinterested
and
generous
mind
of
Cathmor
.
is
not
here
;
the
generous
brother
of
Cairbar
;
he
is
not
here
with
his
thousands
,
and
our
arms
are
weak
.
Cathmor
is
a
foe
to
strife
at
the
feast
:
his
soul
is
bright
as
the
sun
.
But
Cairbar
shall
fight
with
Oscar
,
chiefs
of
the
high
Temora
!
His
words
for
Cathol
were
many
;
and
the
wrath
of
Cairbar
burns
.
He
shall
fall
on
Lena
:
and
my
fame
shall
rise
in
blood
.
THE
faces
of
the
heroes
brightened
.
They
spread
over
Lena's
heath
.
The
feast
of
shells
is
prepared
.
The
songs
of
the
bards
arose
.
WE
heard
Fingal's
army
heard
the
joy
that
was
in
Cairbar's
camp
.
The
character
given
of
Cathmor
is
agreeable
to
the
times
.
Some
,
through
ostentation
,
were
hospitable
;
and
others
fell
naturally
into
a
custom
handed
down
from
their
ancestors
.
But
what
marks
strongly
the
character
of
Cathmor
,
is
his
aversion
to
praise
;
for
he
is
represented
to
dwell
in
a
wood
to
avoid
the
thanks
of
his
guests
;
which
is
still
a
higher
degree
of
generosity
than
that
of
Axylus
in
Ho
mer
:
for
the
poet
does
not
say
,
but
the
good
man
might
,
at
the
head
of
his
own
table
,
have
heard
with
pleasure
the
praise
bestowed
on
him
by
the
people
he
en
tertained
.
foreign
foreign
foreign
foreign
HOM.
6.
12.
Next
Teuthras'
son
distain'd
the
sands
with
blood
,
Axylus
,
hospitable
,
rich
and
good
:
In
fair
Arisbe's
walls
,
his
native
place
,
He
held
his
seat
;
a
friend
to
human
race
.
Fast
by
the
road
,
his
ever
open
door
Oblig'd
the
wealthy
,
and
reliev'd
the
poor
.
POPE
.
the
voice
of
joy
on
the
coast
,
and
we
thought
that
the
mighty
Cathmor
came
.
Cathmor
the
friend
of
strangers
!
the
brother
of
red-haired
Cairbar
.
But
their
souls
were
not
the
same
:
for
the
light
of
heaven
was
in
the
bosom
of
Cathmor
.
His
towers
rose
on
the
banks
of
Atha
:
seven
paths
led
to
his
halls
.
Seven
chiefs
stood
on
those
paths
,
and
called
the
stranger
to
the
feast
!
But
Cath
mor
dwelt
in
the
wood
to
avoid
the
voice
of
praise
.
OLLA
came
with
his
songs
.
Oscar
went
to
Cairbar's
feast
.
Three
hundred
heroes
attended
the
chief
,
and
the
clang
of
their
arms
is
terrible
.
The
gray
dogs
bounded
on
the
heath
,
and
their
howling
is
frequent
.
Fingal
saw
the
departure
of
the
hero
:
the
soul
of
the
king
was
sad
.
He
dreads
the
gloomy
Cairbar
:
but
who
of
the
race
of
Trenmor
seared
the
foe
?
MY
son
lifted
high
the
spear
of
Cormac
:
an
hundred
bards
met
him
with
songs
.
Cairbar
concealed
with
smiles
the
death
that
was
dark
in
his
soul
.
The
feast
is
spread
,
the
shells
resound
:
joy
bright
ens
the
face
of
the
host
.
But
it
was
like
the
parting
beam
of
the
sun
,
when
he
is
to
hide
his
red
head
,
in
a
storm
.
CAIRBAR
rose
in
his
arms
;
darkness
gathers
on
his
brow
.
The
hundred
harps
ceased
at
once
.
The
clang
When
a
chief
was
determined
to
kill
a
man
that
was
in
his
power
already
,
it
was
usual
to
signify
,
that
his
death
was
intend
ed
,
by
the
sound
of
a
shield
struck
with
the
blunt
end
of
a
spear
;
at
the
same
time
that
a
bard
at
distance
raised
the
death-song
.
A
ceremony
of
another
kind
was
long
used
in
Scotland
upon
such
occasions
.
Every
body
has
heard
that
a
bull's
head
was
served
up
to
Lord
Douglas
in
the
castle
of
Edin
burgh
,
as
a
certain
signal
of
his
approaching
death
.
of
shields
is
heard
.
Far
distant
on
the
heath
Olla
raised
his
song
of
woe
.
My
son
knew
the
sign
of
death
;
and
rising
seized
his
spear
.
OSCAR
!
said
the
dark-red
Cairbar
,
I
behold
the
spear
Cormac
,
the
son
of
Arth
,
had
given
the
spear
,
which
is
here
the
foundation
of
the
quarrel
,
to
Oscar
when
he
came
to
con
gratulate
him
,
upon
Swaran's
being
ex
pelled
from
Ireland
.
of
Erin's
kings
.
The
spear
of
Temora
Ti'-mór-ri
'
,
the
house
of
the
great
king
,
the
name
of
the
royal
palace
of
the
supreme
kings
of
Ireland
.
glitters
in
thy
hand
,
son
of
the
woody
Morven
!
It
was
the
pride
of
an
hundred
kings
,
the
death
of
heroes
of
old
.
Yield
it
,
son
of
Ossian
,
yield
it
to
car-borne
Cairbar
.
SHALL
I
yield
,
Oscar
replied
,
the
gift
of
Erin's
injured
king
:
the
gift
of
fair-haired
Cormac
,
when
Oscar
scattered
his
foes
?
I
came
to
his
halls
of
joy
,
when
Swaran
sled
from
Fingal
.
Gladness
rose
in
the
face
of
youth
:
he
gave
the
spear
of
Temora
.
Nor
did
he
give
it
to
the
feeble
,
O
Cairbar
,
neither
to
the
weak
in
soul
.
The
darkness
of
thy
face
is
not
a
storm
to
me
;
nor
are
thine
eyes
the
flames
of
death
.
Do
I
fear
thy
clanging
shield
?
Does
my
soul
tremble
at
Olla's
song
?
No
:
Cairbar
,
frighten
thou
the
feeble
;
Os
car
is
like
a
rock
.
AND
wilt
thou
not
yield
the
spear
,
replied
the
rising
pride
of
Cairbar
?
Are
thy
words
mighty
because
Fingal
is
near
,
the
gray-haired
warrior
of
Morven
.
He
has
fought
with
little
men
.
But
he
must
vanish
before
Cairbar
,
like
a
thin
pillar
of
mist
before
the
winds
of
Atha
Atha
,
shallow
river
:
the
name
of
Cair
bar's
seat
in
Connaught
.
.
WERE
he
who
fought
with
little
men
near
the
chief
of
Atha
:
Atha's
chief
would
yield
green
Erin
to
avoid
his
rage
.
Speak
not
of
the
mighty
,
O
Cairbar
!
but
turn
thy
sword
on
me
.
Our
strength
is
equal
:
but
Fingal
is
renowned
!
the
first
of
mortal
men
!
THEIR
people
saw
the
darkening
chiefs
.
Their
crowding
steps
are
heard
around
.
Their
eyes
roll
in
fire
.
A
thousand
swords
are
half
unsheathed
.
Red-haired
Olla
raised
the
song
of
battle
:
the
trem
bling
joy
of
Oscar's
soul
arose
:
the
wonted
joy
of
his
soul
when
Fin
gal's
horn
was
heard
.
DARK
as
the
swelling
wave
of
ocean
before
the
rising
winds
,
when
it
bends
its
head
near
the
coast
,
came
on
the
host
of
Cairbar
.
—
Daughter
of
Toscar
The
poet
means
Malvina
,
the
daugh
ter
of
Toscar
,
to
whom
he
addressed
that
part
of
the
poem
,
which
related
to
the
death
of
Oscar
her
lover
.
!
why
that
tear
?
He
is
not
fallen
yet
.
Many
were
the
deaths
of
his
arm
before
my
hero
fell
!
—
Behold
they
fall
before
my
son
like
the
groves
in
the
desart
,
when
an
angry
ghost
rushes
through
night
,
and
takes
their
green
heads
in
his
hand
!
Morlath
falls
:
Maronnan
dies
:
Conachar
trembles
in
his
blood
.
Cairbar
shrinks
before
Oscar's
sword
;
and
creeps
in
darkness
be
hind
his
stone
.
He
lifted
the
spear
in
secret
,
and
pierced
my
Os
car's
side
.
He
falls
forward
on
his
shield
:
his
knee
sustains
the
chief
:
but
his
spear
is
in
his
hand
.
See
gloomy
Cairbar
The
Irish
historians
place
the
death
of
Cairbar
,
in
the
latter
end
of
the
third
cen
tury
:
they
say
,
he
was
killed
in
battle
a
gainst
Oscar
the
son
of
Ossian
,
but
deny
that
he
fell
by
his
hand
.
As
they
have
nothing
to
go
upon
but
the
traditions
of
their
bards
,
the
translator
thinks
that
the
account
of
Ossian
is
as
probable
:
at
the
worst
,
it
is
but
opposing
one
tradition
to
another
.
falls
.
The
steel
pierced
his
forehead
,
and
divided
his
red
hair
behind
.
He
lay
,
like
a
shattered
rock
,
which
Cromla
shakes
from
its
side
.
But
never
more
shall
Oscar
rise
!
he
leans
on
his
bossy
shield
.
His
spear
is
in
his
terrible
hand
:
Erin's
sons
stood
distant
and
dark
.
Their
shouts
arose
,
like
the
crowded
noise
of
streams
,
and
Lena
echoed
around
.
FINGAL
heard
the
sound
;
and
took
his
father's
spear
.
His
steps
are
before
us
on
the
heath
.
He
spoke
the
words
of
woe
.
I
hear
the
noise
of
battle
:
and
Oscar
is
alone
.
Rise
,
ye
sons
of
Morven
,
and
join
the
hero's
sword
.
OSSIAN
rushed
along
the
heath
.
Fillan
bounded
over
Lena
.
Fer
gus
flew
with
feet
of
wind
.
Fingal
strode
in
his
strength
,
and
the
light
of
his
shield
is
terrible
.
The
sons
of
Erin
saw
it
far
distant
;
they
trembled
in
their
souls
.
They
knew
that
the
wrath
of
the
king
arose
:
and
they
foresaw
their
death
.
We
first
arrived
;
we
fought
;
and
Erin's
chiefs
withstood
our
rage
.
But
when
the
king
came
,
in
the
sound
of
his
course
,
what
heart
of
steel
could
stand
!
Erin
fled
over
Lena
.
Death
pursued
their
flight
.
WE
saw
Oscar
leaning
on
his
shield
.
We
saw
his
blood
around
.
Silence
darkened
on
every
hero's
face
.
Each
turned
his
back
and
wept
.
The
king
strove
to
hide
his
tears
.
His
gray
beard
whistled
in
the
wind
.
He
bends
his
head
over
his
son
:
and
his
words
are
mixed
with
sighs
.
AND
art
thou
fallen
,
Oscar
,
in
the
midst
of
thy
course
?
the
heart
of
the
aged
beats
over
thee
!
He
sees
thy
coming
battles
.
He
be
holds
the
battles
which
ought
to
come
,
but
they
are
cut
off
from
thy
fame
.
When
shall
joy
dwell
at
Selma
?
When
shall
the
song
of
grief
cease
on
Morven
.
My
sons
fall
by
degrees
:
Fingal
shall
be
the
last
of
his
race
.
The
fame
which
I
have
received
shall
pass
away
:
my
age
will
be
without
friends
.
I
shall
sit
like
a
gray
cloud
in
my
hall
:
nor
shall
I
expect
the
return
of
a
son
,
in
the
midst
of
his
sounding
arms
.
Weep
,
ye
heroes
of
Morven
!
never
more
shall
Oscar
rise
!
AND
they
did
weep
,
O
Fingal
;
dear
was
the
hero
to
their
souls
.
He
went
out
to
battle
,
and
the
foes
vanished
;
he
returned
,
in
peace
,
amidst
their
joy
.
No
father
mourned
his
son
slain
in
youth
;
no
brother
his
brother
of
love
.
They
fell
,
without
tears
,
for
the
chief
of
the
people
was
low
!
Bran
Bran
was
one
of
Fingal's
dogs
.
—
He
was
so
remarkable
for
his
fleetness
,
that
the
poet
,
in
a
piece
which
is
not
just
now
in
the
translator's
hands
,
has
given
him
the
same
properties
with
Virgil's
Camilla
.
is
howling
at
his
feet
:
gloomy
Luäth
is
sad
,
for
he
had
often
led
them
to
the
chace
;
to
the
bounding
roes
of
the
desart
.
WHEN
Oscar
beheld
his
friends
around
,
his
white
breast
rose
with
a
sigh
.
—
The
groans
,
he
said
,
of
my
aged
heroes
,
the
howling
of
my
dogs
,
the
sudden
bursts
of
the
song
of
grief
,
have
melted
Os
car's
soul
.
My
soul
,
that
never
melted
before
;
it
was
like
the
steel
of
my
sword
.
—
Ossian
,
carry
me
to
my
hills
!
Raise
the
stones
of
my
fame
.
Place
the
horn
of
the
deer
,
and
my
sword
within
my
narrow
dwelling
.
—
The
torrent
hereafter
may
raise
the
earth
of
my
tomb
:
the
hunter
may
find
the
steel
and
say
,
"
This
has
been
Oscar's
sword
.
"
AND
fallest
thou
,
son
of
my
fame
!
And
shall
I
never
see
thee
,
Oscar
!
When
others
hear
of
their
sons
,
I
shall
not
hear
of
thee
.
The
moss
is
on
the
stones
of
his
tomb
,
and
the
mournful
wind
is
there
.
The
battle
shall
be
fought
without
him
:
he
shall
not
pur
sue
the
dark-brown
hinds
.
When
the
warrior
returns
from
battles
,
and
tells
of
other
lands
,
he
will
say
,
I
have
seen
a
tomb
,
by
the
roaring
stream
,
where
a
warrior
darkly
dwells
:
he
was
slain
by
car-borne
Oscar
,
the
first
of
mortal
men
.
—
I
,
perhaps
,
shall
hear
him
,
and
a
beam
of
joy
will
rise
in
my
soul
.
THE
night
would
have
descended
in
sorrow
,
and
morning
re
turned
in
the
shadow
of
grief
:
our
chiefs
would
have
stood
like
cold
dropping
rocks
on
Lena
,
and
have
forgot
the
war
,
did
not
the
king
disperse
his
grief
,
and
raise
his
mighty
voice
.
The
chiefs
,
as
new-wakened
from
dreams
,
lift
their
heads
around
.
How
long
shall
we
weep
on
Lena
;
or
pour
our
tears
in
Ullin
?
The
mighty
will
not
return
.
Oscar
shall
not
rise
in
his
strength
.
The
valiant
must
fall
one
day
,
and
be
no
more
known
on
his
hills
.
—
Where
are
our
fathers
,
O
warriors
!
the
chiefs
of
the
times
of
old
?
They
have
set
like
stars
that
have
stone
,
we
only
hear
the
sound
of
their
praise
.
But
they
were
renowned
in
their
day
,
and
the
terror
of
other
times
.
Thus
shall
we
pass
,
O
warriors
,
in
the
day
of
our
fall
.
Then
let
us
be
renowned
when
we
may
;
and
leave
our
fame
behind
us
,
like
the
last
beams
of
the
sun
,
when
he
hides
his
red
head
in
the
west
.
ULLIN
,
my
aged
bard
!
take
the
ship
of
the
king
.
Carry
Oscar
to
Selma
,
and
let
the
daughters
of
Morven
weep
.
We
shall
fight
in
Erin
for
the
race
of
fallen
Cormac
.
The
days
of
my
years
begin
to
fail
:
I
feel
the
weakness
of
my
arm
.
My
fathers
bend
from
their
clouds
,
to
receive
their
gray-hair'd
son
.
But
,
Trenmor
!
be
fore
I
go
hence
,
one
beam
of
my
fame
shall
rise
:
so
shall
my
days
end
,
as
my
years
begun
,
in
fame
:
my
life
shall
be
one
stream
of
light
to
other
times
.
ULLIN
rais'd
his
white
sails
:
the
wind
of
the
south
came
forth
.
He
bounded
on
the
waves
towards
Selma's
walls
.
—
I
remained
in
my
grief
,
but
my
words
were
not
heard
.
—
The
feast
is
spread
on
Lena
:
an
hundred
heroes
reared
the
tomb
of
Cairbar
:
but
no
song
is
raised
over
the
chief
;
for
his
soul
had
been
dark
and
bloody
.
We
remembered
the
fall
of
Cormac
!
and
what
could
we
say
in
Cair
bar's
praise
?
THE
night
came
rolling
down
.
The
light
of
an
hundred
oaks
arose
.
Fingal
sat
beneath
a
tree
.
The
chief
of
Etha
sat
near
the
king
,
the
gray-hair'd
strength
of
Usnoth
.
OLD
Althan
Althan
,
the
son
of
Conachar
,
was
the
chief
bard
of
Arth
king
of
Ireland
.
After
the
death
of
Arth
,
Althan
attended
his
son
Cormac
,
and
was
present
at
his
death
.
—
He
had
made
his
escape
from
Cairbar
,
by
the
means
of
Cathmor
,
and
coming
to
Fingal
,
related
,
as
here
,
the
death
of
his
master
Cormac
.
stood
in
the
midst
,
and
told
the
tale
of
fallen
Cormac
.
Althan
the
son
of
Conachar
,
the
friend
of
car-borne
Cuchullin
:
he
dwelt
with
Cormac
in
windy
Temora
,
when
Semo's
son
fought
with
generous
Torlath
.
—
The
tale
of
Althan
was
mourn
ful
,
and
the
tear
was
in
his
eye
.
Althan
speaks
.
THE
setting
sun
was
yellow
on
Dora
Doira
,
the
woody
side
of
a
mountain
;
it
is
here
a
hill
in
the
neighbourhood
of
Temora
.
.
Gray
evening
began
to
descend
.
Temora's
woods
shook
with
the
blast
of
the
unconstant
wind
.
A
cloud
,
at
length
,
gathered
in
the
west
,
and
a
red
star
looked
from
behind
its
edge
.
—
I
stood
in
the
wood
alone
,
and
saw
a
ghost
on
the
darkening
air
.
His
stride
extended
from
hill
to
hill
:
his
shield
was
dim
on
his
side
.
It
was
the
son
of
Semo
:
I
knew
the
sadness
of
his
face
.
But
he
passed
away
in
his
blast
;
and
all
was
dark
around
.
—
My
soul
was
sad
.
I
went
to
the
hall
of
shells
.
A
thousand
lights
arose
:
the
hundred
bards
had
strung
the
harp
.
Cormac
stood
in
the
midst
,
like
the
morning
star
Qualis
,
ubi
occani
perfusus
Luciser
unda
,
Quem
Venus
anic
alios
astrorum
diligit
ignes
,
Extulit
os
sacrum
coelo
,
tenebrasque
resolvit
.
VIRG.
So
from
the
seas
exerts
his
radiant
head
,
The
star
,
by
whom
the
lights
of
heav'n
are
led
;
Shakes
from
his
rosy
locks
the
pearly
dews
;
Dispels
the
darkness
,
and
the
day
renews
.
DRYDEN
.
,
when
it
rejoices
on
the
eastern
hill
,
and
its
young
beams
are
bathed
in
showers
.
—
The
sword
of
Artho
Arth
,
or
Artho
,
the
father
of
Cormac
king
of
Ireland
.
was
in
the
hand
of
the
king
;
and
he
looked
with
joy
on
its
polished
studs
:
thrice
he
attempted
to
draw
it
,
and
thrice
he
failed
:
his
yellow
locks
are
spread
on
his
shoulders
:
his
cheeks
of
youth
are
red
.
—
I
mourned
over
the
beam
of
youth
,
for
he
was
soon
to
set
.
ALTHAN
!
he
said
,
with
a
smile
,
hast
thou
beheld
my
father
?
Heavy
is
the
sword
of
the
king
,
surely
his
arm
was
strong
.
O
that
I
were
like
him
in
battle
,
when
the
rage
of
his
wrath
arose
!
then
would
I
have
met
,
like
Cuchullin
,
the
car-borne
son
of
Cantéla
!
But
years
may
come
on
,
O
Althan
!
and
my
arm
be
strong
.
—
Hast
thou
heard
of
Semo's
son
,
the
chief
of
high
Temora
?
He
might
have
returned
with
his
fame
;
for
he
promised
to
return
to-night
.
My
bards
wait
him
with
their
songs
,
and
my
feast
is
spread
.
—
I
HEARD
the
king
in
silence
.
My
tears
began
to
flow
.
I
hid
them
with
my
gray
locks
;
but
he
perceived
my
grief
.
SON
of
Conachar
!
he
said
,
is
the
king
of
Tura
low
?
Why
bursts
thy
sigh
in
secret
?
And
why
descends
the
tear
?
—
Comes
the
car-borne
Torlath
?
Or
the
sound
of
the
red-haired
Cairbar
?
—
They
come
!
—
for
I
see
thy
grief
;
and
Tura's
king
is
low
!
—
Shall
I
not
rush
to
battle
?
—
But
I
cannot
lift
the
arms
of
my
fathers
!
—
O
had
mine
arm
the
strength
of
Cuchullin
,
soon
would
Cairbar
fly
;
the
fame
of
my
fathers
would
be
renewed
;
and
the
actions
of
other
times
!
HE
took
his
bow
of
yew
.
Tears
flow
from
his
sparkling
eyes
.
—
Grief
saddens
around
:
the
bards
bend
forward
from
their
harps
.
The
blast
touches
their
strings
,
and
the
sound
of
woe
ascends
.
A
VOICE
is
heard
at
a
distance
,
as
of
one
in
grief
;
it
was
Carril
of
other
times
,
who
came
from
the
dark
Slimora
Slimora
,
a
hill
in
Connaught
,
near
which
Cuchullin
was
killed
.
.
—
He
told
of
the
death
of
Cuchullin
,
and
of
his
mighty
deeds
.
The
people
were
scattered
around
his
tomb
:
their
arms
lay
on
the
ground
.
They
had
forgot
the
battle
,
for
the
sound
of
his
shield
had
ceased
.
BUT
who
,
said
the
soft-voiced
Carril
,
come
like
the
bounding
roes
?
their
stature
is
like
the
young
trees
of
the
plain
,
growing
in
a
shower
:
—
Soft
and
ruddy
are
their
cheeks
:
but
fearless
souls
look
forth
from
their
eyes
?
—
Who
but
the
sons
of
Usnoth
,
the
car-borne
chiefs
of
Etha
?
The
people
rise
on
every
side
,
like
the
strength
of
an
half-extinguished
fire
,
when
the
winds
come
suddenly
from
the
desart
,
on
their
rustling
wings
.
—
The
sound
of
Caithbat's
shield
was
heard
.
The
heroes
saw
Cuchullin
That
is
,
they
saw
a
manifest
likeness
between
the
person
of
Nathos
and
Cuchullin
.
,
in
the
form
of
lovely
Nathos
.
So
rolled
his
sparkling
eyes
,
and
such
was
his
steps
on
his
heath
.
—
Battles
are
fought
at
Lego
:
the
sword
of
Na
thos
prevails
.
Soon
shalt
thou
behold
him
in
thy
halls
,
king
of
woody
Temora
!
—
AND
soon
may
I
behold
him
,
O
Carril
!
replied
the
returning
joy
of
Cormac
.
But
my
soul
is
sad
for
Cuchullin
;
his
voice
was
plea
sant
in
mine
ear
.
—
Often
have
we
moved
on
Dora
,
at
the
chace
of
the
dark-brown
hinds
:
his
bow
was
unerring
on
the
mountains
.
—
He
spoke
of
mighty
men
.
He
told
of
the
deeds
of
my
fathers
;
and
I
felt
the
joy
of
my
breast
.
—
But
sit
thou
,
at
the
feast
,
O
Carril
;
I
have
often
heard
thy
voice
.
Sing
in
the
praise
of
Cuchullin
;
and
of
that
mighty
stranger
.
DAY
rose
on
Temora
,
with
all
the
beams
of
the
east
.
Trathin
came
to
the
hall
,
the
son
of
old
Gellama
Geal-lamha
,
white-handed
.
.
—
I
behold
,
he
said
,
a
dark
cloud
in
the
desart
,
king
of
Innisfail
!
a
cloud
it
seemed
at
first
,
but
now
a
croud
of
men
.
One
strides
before
them
in
his
strength
;
and
his
red
hair
flies
in
the
wind
.
His
shield
glitters
to
the
beam
of
the
east
.
His
spear
is
in
his
hand
.
CALL
him
to
the
feast
of
Temora
,
replied
the
king
of
Erin
.
My
hall
is
the
house
of
strangers
,
son
of
the
generous
Gelláma
!
—
Per
haps
it
is
the
chief
of
Etha
,
coming
in
the
sound
of
his
renown
.
—
Hail
,
mighty
stranger
,
art
thou
of
the
friends
of
Cormac
?
—
But
Carril
,
he
is
dark
,
and
unlovely
;
and
he
draws
his
sword
.
Is
that
the
son
of
Usnoth
,
bard
of
the
times
of
old
?
IT
is
not
the
son
of
Usnoth
,
said
Carril
,
but
the
chief
of
Atha
.
—
Why
comest
thou
in
thy
arms
to
Temora
,
Cairbar
of
the
gloomy
brow
?
Let
not
thy
sword
rise
against
Cormac
!
Whither
dost
thou
turn
thy
speed
?
HE
passed
on
in
his
darkness
,
and
seized
the
hand
of
the
king
.
Cormac
foresaw
his
death
,
and
the
rage
of
his
eyes
arose
.
—
Retire
,
thou
gloomy
chief
of
Atha
:
Nathos
comes
with
battle
.
—
Thou
art
bold
in
Cormac's
hall
,
for
his
arm
is
weak
.
—
The
sword
entered
Cormac's
side
:
he
fell
in
the
halls
of
his
fathers
.
His
fair
hair
is
in
the
dust
.
His
blood
is
smoaking
round
.
AND
art
thou
fallen
in
thy
halls
,
I
said
Althan
speaks
.
,
O
son
of
noble
Artho
?
The
shield
of
Cuchullin
was
not
near
.
Nor
the
spear
of
thy
father
.
Mournful
are
the
mountains
of
Erin
,
for
the
chief
of
the
people
is
low
!
—
Blest
be
thy
soul
,
O
Cormac
!
thou
art
snatched
from
the
midst
of
thy
course
.
MY
words
came
to
the
ears
of
Cairbar
,
and
he
closed
us
That
is
,
himself
and
Carril
,
as
it
af
terwards
appears
.
in
the
midst
of
darkness
.
He
feared
to
stretch
his
sword
to
the
bards
The
persons
of
the
bards
were
so
sa
cred
,
that
even
he
,
who
had
just
murdered
his
sovereign
,
feared
to
kill
them
.
:
though
his
soul
was
dark
.
Three
days
we
pined
alone
:
on
the
fourth
,
the
noble
Cathmor
came
.
—
He
heard
our
voice
from
the
cave
;
he
turned
the
eye
of
his
wrath
on
Cairbar
.
Chief
of
Atha
!
he
said
,
how
long
wilt
thou
pain
my
soul
?
Thy
heart
is
like
the
rock
of
the
desart
;
and
thy
thoughts
are
dark
.
—
But
thou
art
the
brother
of
Cathmor
,
and
he
will
fight
thy
battles
.
—
But
Cathmor's
soul
is
not
like
thine
,
thou
feeble
hand
of
war
!
The
light
of
my
bosom
is
stained
with
thy
deeds
:
the
bards
will
not
sing
of
my
renown
.
They
may
say
,
"
Cathmor
was
brave
,
but
he
fought
for
gloomy
Cairbar
.
"
They
will
pass
over
my
tomb
in
silence
,
and
my
fame
shall
not
be
heard
.
—
Cairbar
!
loose
the
bards
:
they
are
the
sons
of
other
times
.
Their
voice
shall
be
heard
in
other
ages
,
when
the
kings
of
Temora
have
failed
.
—
WE
came
forth
at
the
words
of
the
chief
.
We
saw
him
in
his
strength
.
He
was
like
thy
youth
,
O
Fingal
,
when
thou
first
didst
list
the
spear
.
—
His
face
was
like
the
plain
of
the
sun
when
it
is
bright
:
no
darkness
travelled
over
his
brow
.
But
he
came
with
his
thousands
to
Ullin
;
to
aid
the
red-haired
Cairbar
:
and
now
he
comes
to
revenge
his
death
,
O
king
of
woody
Morven
.
—
AND
let
him
come
,
replied
the
king
;
I
love
a
foe
like
Cathmor
.
His
soul
is
great
;
his
arm
is
strong
,
and
his
battles
are
full
of
fame
.
—
But
the
little
soul
is
like
a
vapour
that
hovers
round
the
marshy
lake
:
it
never
rises
on
the
green
hill
,
lest
the
winds
meet
it
there
:
its
dwelling
is
in
the
cave
,
and
it
sends
forth
the
dart
of
death
.
USNOTH
!
thou
hast
heard
the
fame
of
Etha's
car-borne
chiefs
.
—
Our
young
heroes
,
O
warrior
,
are
like
the
renown
of
our
fathers
.
—
They
fight
in
youth
,
and
they
fall
:
their
names
are
in
the
song
.
—
But
we
are
old
,
O
Usnoth
,
let
us
not
fall
like
aged
oaks
;
which
the
blast
overturns
in
secret
.
The
hunter
came
past
,
and
saw
them
lying
gray
across
a
stream
.
How
have
these
fallen
,
he
said
,
and
whistling
passed
along
.
RAISE
the
song
of
joy
,
ye
bards
of
Morven
,
that
our
souls
may
forget
the
past
.
—
The
red
stars
look
on
us
from
the
clouds
,
and
silently
descend
.
Soon
shall
the
gray
beam
of
the
morning
rise
,
and
shew
us
the
foes
of
Cormac
.
—
Fillan
!
take
the
spear
of
the
king
;
go
to
Mora's
dark-brown
side
.
Let
thine
eyes
travel
over
the
heath
,
like
flames
of
fire
.
Observe
the
foes
of
Fingal
,
and
the
course
of
generous
Cathmor
.
I
hear
a
distant
sound
,
like
the
falling
of
rocks
in
the
desart
.
—
But
strike
thou
thy
shield
,
at
times
,
that
they
may
not
come
through
night
,
and
the
same
of
Morven
cease
.
—
I
begin
to
be
alone
,
my
son
,
and
I
dread
the
fall
of
my
renown
.
THE
voice
of
the
bards
arose
.
The
king
leaned
on
the
shield
of
Trenmor
.
—
Sleep
descended
on
his
eyes
,
and
his
future
battles
rose
in
his
dreams
.
The
host
are
sleeping
around
.
Dark-haired
Fillan
observed
the
foe
.
His
steps
are
on
a
distant
hill
:
we
hear
,
at
times
,
his
clanging
shield
.
One
of
the
Fragments
of
Ancient
Poetry
lately
published
,
gives
a
different
account
of
the
death
of
Oscar
,
the
son
of
Ossian
.
The
translator
,
though
he
well
knew
the
more
probable
tradition
concerning
that
hero
,
was
unwilling
to
reject
a
poem
,
which
,
if
not
really
of
Ossian's
composition
,
has
much
of
his
manner
,
and
concise
turn
of
expression
.
A
more
correct
copy
of
that
fragment
,
which
has
since
come
to
the
translator's
hands
,
has
enabled
him
to
cor
rect
the
mistake
,
into
which
a
similarity
of
names
had
led
those
who
handed
down
the
poem
by
tradition
.
—
The
heroes
of
the
piece
are
Oscar
the
son
of
Caruth
,
and
Dermid
the
son
of
Diaran
.
Ossian
,
or
perhaps
his
imitator
,
opens
the
poem
with
a
lamentation
for
Oscar
,
and
afterwards
,
by
an
easy
transition
,
relates
the
story
of
Oscar
the
son
of
Caruth
,
who
seems
to
have
bore
the
same
character
,
as
well
as
name
,
with
Oscar
the
son
of
Ossian
.
Though
the
translator
thinks
he
has
good
reason
to
reject
the
fragment
as
the
com
position
of
Ossian
;
yet
as
it
is
,
after
all
,
still
somewhat
doubtful
whether
it
is
or
not
,
he
has
here
subjoined
it
.
WHY
openest
thou
afresh
the
spring
of
my
grief
,
O
son
of
Alpin
,
inquiring
how
Oscar
fell
?
My
eyes
are
blind
with
tears
;
but
memory
beams
on
my
heart
.
How
can
I
relate
the
mournful
death
of
the
head
of
the
people
!
Chief
of
the
war
riors
,
Oscar
,
my
son
,
shall
I
see
thee
no
more
!
He
fell
as
the
moon
in
a
storm
;
as
the
sun
from
the
midst
of
his
course
,
when
clouds
rise
from
the
waste
of
the
waves
,
when
the
blackness
of
the
storm
inwraps
the
rocks
of
Ardannider
.
I
,
like
an
an
cient
oak
on
Morven
,
I
moulder
alone
in
my
place
.
The
blast
hath
lopped
my
branches
away
;
and
I
tremble
at
the
wings
of
the
north
.
Chief
of
the
war
riors
,
Oscar
,
my
son
!
shall
I
see
thee
no
more
!
But
,
son
of
Alpin
,
the
hero
fell
not
harmless
as
the
grass
of
the
field
;
the
blood
of
the
mighty
was
on
his
sword
,
and
he
travelled
with
death
through
the
ranks
of
their
pride
.
But
Oscar
,
thou
son
of
Ca
ruth
,
thou
hast
fallen
low
!
No
enemy
fell
by
thy
hand
.
Thy
spear
was
stained
with
the
blood
of
thy
friend
.
Dermid
and
Oscar
were
one
:
They
reaped
the
battle
together
.
Their
friend
ship
was
strong
as
their
steel
;
and
death
walked
between
them
to
the
field
.
They
came
on
the
foe
like
two
rocks
falling
from
the
brows
of
Ardven
.
Their
swords
were
stained
with
the
blood
of
the
valiant
:
warriors
fainted
at
their
names
.
Who
was
equal
to
Oscar
,
but
Dermid
?
and
who
to
Dermid
,
but
Oscar
!
They
killed
mighty
Dargo
in
the
field
;
Dargo
who
never
sled
in
war
.
His
daugh
ter
was
fair
as
the
morn
;
mild
as
the
beam
of
night
.
Her
eyes
,
like
two
stars
in
a
shower
:
her
breath
,
the
gale
of
spring
:
her
breasts
,
as
the
new-fallen
snow
floating
on
the
moving
heath
.
The
warriors
saw
her
,
and
loved
;
their
souls
were
fixed
on
the
maid
.
Each
loved
her
as
his
fame
;
each
must
possess
her
or
die
.
But
her
soul
was
fixed
on
Oscar
;
the
son
of
Caruth
was
the
youth
of
her
love
.
She
forgot
the
blood
of
her
father
;
and
loved
the
hand
that
slew
him
.
Son
of
Caruth
,
said
Dermid
,
I
love
;
O
Oscar
,
I
love
this
maid
.
But
her
soul
cleaveth
unto
thee
;
and
nothing
can
heal
Dermid
.
Here
,
pierce
this
bosom
,
Oscar
;
relieve
me
,
my
friend
,
with
thy
sword
.
My
sword
,
son
of
Diaran
,
shall
never
be
stained
with
the
blood
of
Dermid
.
Who
then
is
worthy
to
slay
me
,
O
Oscar
son
of
Caruth
?
Let
not
my
life
pass
away
unknown
.
Let
none
but
Oscar
slay
me
.
Send
me
with
honour
to
the
grave
,
and
let
my
death
be
renowned
.
Dermid
,
make
use
of
thy
sword
;
son
of
Diaran
,
wield
thy
steel
.
Would
that
I
fell
with
thee
!
that
my
death
came
from
the
hand
of
Dermid
!
They
fought
by
the
brook
of
the
moun
tain
,
by
the
streams
of
Branno
.
Blood
tinged
the
running
water
,
and
curdled
round
the
mossy
stones
.
The
stately
Der
mid
fell
;
he
fell
,
and
smiled
in
death
.
And
fallest
thou
,
son
of
Diaran
,
fallest
thou
by
Oscar's
hand
!
Dermid
who
ne
ver
yielded
in
war
,
thus
do
I
see
thee
fall
!
—
He
went
,
and
returned
to
the
maid
of
his
love
;
he
returned
,
but
she
perceived
his
grief
.
Why
that
gloom
,
son
of
Caruth
?
what
shades
thy
mighty
soul
?
Though
once
renowned
for
the
bow
,
O
maid
,
I
have
lost
my
same
.
Fixed
on
a
tree
by
the
brook
of
the
hill
,
is
the
shield
of
the
valiant
Gormur
,
whom
I
slew
in
battle
.
I
have
wasted
the
day
in
vain
,
nor
could
my
arrow
pierce
it
.
Let
me
try
,
son
of
Caruth
,
the
skill
of
Dargo's
daughter
.
My
hands
were
taught
the
bow
:
my
father
delighted
in
my
skill
.
She
went
.
He
stood
behind
the
shield
.
Her
arrow
flew
,
and
pierced
his
breast
.
Blessed
be
that
hand
of
snow
;
and
bles
sed
that
bow
of
yew
!
Who
but
the
daughter
of
Dargo
was
worthy
to
slay
the
son
of
Caruth
?
Lay
me
in
the
earth
,
my
fair
one
;
lay
me
by
the
side
of
Dermid
.
Oscar
!
the
maid
replied
,
I
have
the
soul
of
the
mighty
Dargo
.
Well
pleased
I
can
meet
death
.
My
sorrow
I
can
end
.
—
She
pierced
her
white
bosom
with
the
steel
.
She
fell
;
she
trembled
;
and
died
.
By
the
brook
of
the
hill
their
graves
are
laid
;
a
birch's
unequal
shade
covers
their
tomb
.
Often
on
their
green
earthen
tombs
the
branchy
sons
of
the
mountain
feed
,
when
mid-day
is
all
in
flames
,
and
silence
over
all
the
hills
.