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And, as that sword of lightning waved,
We onward to the battle moved;
Joy rose in youthful Oscar's face,
For he the scenes of battle loved;

His cheek is flushed, his eye upraised,
His sword is as a beam of fire,
His valiant heart was beating high
When thus the youth addressed his sire:

"Oh! Ossian, ruler of the fight,

My father, hear thy youthful son,
Retire with Morven's mighty chief,
Till I've the fame of Ossian won;

"If here I fall upon this plain,
Remember, sire, yon mourner there,
The lonely sunbeam of my love,
Toscar's white-handed daughter fair!

"Methinks I see her from the rock,

Her soft hair round her bosom flies,
With red cheek bending o'er the stream
She pours for me her anxious sighs;-

"Tell her, I wander on my hills
A lightly bounding son of wind;
Tell her, that on a cloud I sail,
Searching her lovely form to find."

"Raise, Oscar, rather raise my tomb!
I will not yield the war to thee-
The first and bloodiest in the strife,
My arm shall teach the foe to flee:

"Forget not, oh! my much loved son,
To place this sword, this bow, this horn
Within that dark and narrow house
Whose mark is one gray stone forlorn!

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"I leave no love unto thy care,
My Evirallin is no more!
Her lovely form now sleeps in death
Upon the rocky sea-beat shore."

Such were our words, when Gaul's loud voice
Came growling on the whistling blast,
His father's sword he waved on high,
The tide of war was rising fast!

As waves come bubbling o'er the deep,
As rocks of Ooze meet roaring waves,
So Erin's sons met Lochlin's chief;
So foes attacked and found their graves; -

Man met with man, and steel with steel,
Shields sound, and warriors bleeding fall!
'Twas as a hundred hammers' clang-
So rose their swords, 'twas carnage all! -

Gaul, like a whirlwind rushed along!
Destruction on his fiery sword;
Swaran was like a rushing fire,

As o'er the bloody plain he roared;

How can I give their deeds to song

Oh! how describe the deadly fight?
My sword rose high, and flamed in blood,
But death nor blood our souls affright;

Oscar, my best, my greatest son,

Thou didst rejoice my secret soul! Thy sword is flaming o'er the heath, While death and carnage round thee roll!

They fled amain across the plain,

We quick pursued and slew,
As stones that bound from rock to rock,
So swift our weapons flew;

As thunder rolls from hill to hill,
With dismal, hollow, broken peal,
So blow succeeded mortal blow,
And death to death from Oscar's steel;

But Swaran closed round Morni's son
As the strength of the roaring tide,
The king half rose upon the hill-
His spear flamed at his side;

"Go, Ullin, go, my aged bard!"
Said woody Morven's fearless king,
"Remind the mighty Gaul of war,
And of his father's valour sing;

"Music enlivens flagging war,
Let the loud harp support the fight;"
With steps of age tall Ullin went,
His songs their drooping souls delight;-

"Son of the Chief of generous steeds,
High bounding king of bloody spears,
Strong arm in every dangerous toil,
The son of Morni never fears! -

"Chief of the pointed arms of death,
Cut down the proud and haughty foe,
Let no white sail bound round our shores
When stormy gales from ocean blow;

"With thunder let thine arm be clothed,
Thine eyes like beams of liquid fire,
Be thy heart form'd of solid rock,
Remember, Gaul, thy noble sire!

"Whirl round thy sword like meteor bright!
Lift thy broad shield, a flame of death;
Cut down, destroy the haughty foe,
Oh! leave not one on Lena's heath."

The hero's bounding heart beat high:
Fierce Swaran with the battle came,
In twain he cleft the shield of Gaul,
The sons of Selma fled the plain;

Fingal at once arose in arms,
And thrice he raised his dreadful voice,
High Cromla echoed back the sound,
His chieftains trembled at the noise!-

They bent their faces to the earth,
Ashamed their aged king to meet,
With stately, measured steps he came,
Resolved proud Lochlin to defeat;-

Swaran beheld his warlike form
And halted midway in his course,-
Silent he leaned upon his spear,
His fiery eye had spent its force;

Stately and tall, the hero stands
Like the strong oak near Lubar's stream,
Whose branches long had blasted been
In the fierce lightning's fiery beam:

Brave Fingal, like a light from heaven,
Shone in his mournful people's eyes,
His heroes gather round his shield
And loud resound the battle cries:

"Raise, warriors, raise my standards high,
Let them spread wide on Lena's wind,-
Like flames upon a hundred hills
To animate our sinking mind; -

"Oh! Oscar of the future wars,
Ye sons of Morven all attend!
Ossian, thou king of many songs,
Be near my arm, prompt to defend."

We reared the standard of our king,
The sun-beam floated in the breeze,
Each hero's heart with joy was filled,
As high it waved among the treees:-

"Behold," said Fingal, "view those troops!
Confusion reigns among the foe,
They stand like broken clouds of Heaven,
Their spears like passing meteors glow;

"Let every chieftain in our band
Select a troop of those dark men,
Nor let a son of echoing groves
E'er bound on Erin's waves again."

"Be mine," said Gaul, "the seven bold ships
That came from Lena's stormy lake;
On Inistore's dark frowning king

Let Oscar his fierce vengeance slake."

"Blest, and victorious be my chiefs,"
Said Fingal while his gray locks shook,
"Swaran, thou king of roaring waves,
Fingal himself thy sword shall brook!"

Now like a hundred different winds,
That pour thro' many different vales,
The sons of Selma sally forth

And each his chosen troop assails;

Oh, how shall I relate the scene
We witnessed ere the strife was closed,
Or tell how many, pale in death,
Upon the bloody heath reposed?

Oh, powerful were our hands, sweet maid;
The gloomy ranks of Lochlin fell,
Bright victory o'er our standard waved,
Each chief performed his promise well;

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