turning his dim eyes towards Moi-lena. But · thou fhalt not return, with the spoil of the fallen foe."

FILLAN poured the flight of Erin before him, over the echoing heath.-But, man on man, fell Morven before the dark-red rage of Foldath; for, far on the field, he poured the roar of half his tribes. Dermid * ftood before him in wrath: the fons of Cona gather round. But his fhield is cleft by Foldath, and his people poured over the heath.

THEN faid the foe, in his pride, They have fled, and my fame begins. Go, Malthos, and bid the king to guard the dark-rolling of ocean; that Fingal may not escape from my fword. He muft lie on earth. Befide fome fen fhall his tomb be feen. It fhall rife without a fong. His ghoft fhall hover in mift over the reedy pool.

MALTHOS heard, with darkening doubt; he rolled his filent eyes. He knew the pride of Foldath, and looked up to the king on his hill; then, darkly turning, he plunged his fword

in war.

*This Dermid is, probably, the fame with Dermid O duine, who makes fo great a figure in the fictions of the Irifh bards.

+ Cathmor.

IN Clono's narrow vale, were bent two trees above the ftreams, dark in his grief food Duthno's

This valley had its name from Clono, fon of Lethmal of Lora, one of the ancestors of Dermid, the fon of Duthno. His hiftory is thus related in an old poem. In the days of Conar, the fon of Trenmor, the first king of Ireland, Clono paffed over into that kingdom, from Caledonia, to aid Conar against the Fir-bolg. Being remarkable for the beauty of his perfon, he foon drew the attention of Sulmin, the young wife of an Irish chief. She disclosed her paffion, which was not properly returned by the Caledonian. The lady fickened, thro' difappointment, and her love for Clono came to the ears of her husband. Fired with jealoufy, he vowed revenge. Clono, to avoid his rage, departed from Temora, in order to pass over into Scotland; and being benighted in the valley mentioned here, he laid him down to fleep. There, (to use the words of the poet) Lethmal defcended in the dreams of Clono; and told him that danger was near. For the reader's amusement I fhall translate the vision, which does not want poetical merit.

Ghost of LETHMAL.

"Arife from thy bed of mofs; fon of low-laid Lethmal, arife. The found of the coming of foes, defcends along the wind.

CLONO.

Whofe voice is that, like many ftreams, in the feafon of my reft?

Ghoft of LETHMAL.

Arife, thou dweller of the fouls of the lovely; fon of Lethmal, arife.

CLONO.

How dreary is the nght! The moon is darkened in the fky; red are the paths of ghofts, along its fullen face!

I 4

Green

Duthno's filent fon. The blood poured from his thigh: his fhield lay broken near. His fpear leaned against a ftone; why, Dermid, why fo fad?

I HEAR the roar of battle. My people are alone. My fteps are flow on the heath; and no fhield is mine. Shall he then prevail?-It is then after Dermid is low! I will call thee forth, O Foldath, and meet thee yet in fight.

He took his fpear, with dreadful joy. The fon of Morni came.- Stay, fon of Duthno, ftay thy fpeed; thy fteps are marked with blood. No boffy fhield is thine. Why shouldst thou fail unarmed?"-King of Strumon, give thou thy 'fhield. It has often rolled back the war. I fhall ftop the chief, in his courfe.-Son of Morni, doft thou behold that ftone? It lifts its

Green-fkirted meteors fet around. Dull is the roaring of ftreams, from the valley of dim forms. I hear thee, fpirit of my father, on the eddying courfe of the wind. I hear thee, but thou bendest not, forward, thy tall form, from the fkirts of night.

As Clono prepared to depart, the husband of Sulmin came up, with his numerous attendants. Clono defended himself, but, after a gallant resistance, he was overpowered and flain. He was burried in the place where he was killed, and the valley was called after his name. Dermid, in his request to Gaul the fon of Morni, which immediately follows this paragraph, alludes to the tomb of Clono, and his own connection with that unfortunate chief.

grey

grey head thro' grafs. There dwells a chief of the race of Dermid.-Place me there in night.

He flowly rose against the hill, and faw the troubled field. The gleaming ridges of the fight, disjoined and broken round.—As diftant fires, on heath by night, now seem as loft in fmoak, then rearing their red ftreams on the hill, as blow or cease the winds: fo met the intermitting war the eye of broad-fhielded Dermid.-Thro' the hoft are the ftrides of Foldath, like fome dark fhip on wintry waves, when

* The brevity of the speech of Gaul, and the laconic reply of Dermid, are judicious and well fuited to the hurry of the occafion. The incidents which Offian has chosen to diverfify his battles, are interefting, and never fail to awaken our attention. I know that want of particularity in the wounds, and diverfity in the fall of thofe that are flain, have been among the objections, ftarted, to the poetical merit of Offian's poems. The criticism, without partiality I may fay it, is unjuft, for our poet has introduced as great a variety of this fort, as he, with propriety, could within the compafs of fo fhort poems. It is confeffed, that Homer has a greater variety of deaths than any other poet that ever appeared. His great knowledge in anatomy can never be difputed; but, I am far from thinking, that his battles, even with all their novelty of wounds, are the most beautiful parts of his poems. The human mind dwells with difguft upon a protracted fcene of carnage; and, tho' the introduction of the terrible is neceffary to the grandeur of heroic poetry, yet I am convinced, that a medium ought to be obferved.

it iffues from between two ifles, to fport on echoing feas.

DERMID, with rage, beheld his courfe. He ftrove to ruth along. But he failed in the midft of his fteps; and the big tear came down.-He founded his father's horn; and thrice ftruck his boffy fhield. He called thrice the name of Foldath, from his roaring tribes.-Foldath, with joy, beheld the chief: he lifted high his bloody fpear. As a rock is marked with ftreams, that fell troubled down its fide in a ftorm; fo, ftreaked with wandering blood, is the dark form of Moma.

THE hoft, on either fide, withdrew from the contending of kings.-They raised, at once, their gleaming points.-Rufhing came Fillan of Moruth *. Three paces back Foldath withdrew; dazzled with that beam of light, which came, as iffuing from a cloud, to fave the wounded hero.-Growing in his pride he stood, and called forth all his fteel.

*The rapidity of this verfe, which indeed is but faintly imitated in the translation, is amazingly expreffive in the original. One hears the very rattling of the armour of Fillan. The intervention of Fillan is neceffary here; for as Dermid was wounded before, it is not to be fuppofed, he could be a match for Foldath. Fillan is often, poetically, called the fan of Moruth, from a ftream of that name in Morven, near which he was born.

As