"his ear, to praife the king of fwords. Give him "the fword of Caithbat; for Cuchullin is worthy no more to lift the arms of his fathers. But, "O ye ghofts of the lonely Cromla! Ye fouls of "chiefs that are no more! Be ye the companions "of Cuchullin, and talk to him in the cave of his "forrow. For never more fhall I be renowned "among the mighty in the land. I am like a beam that has fhone: Like a mift that has fled away; when the blaft of the morning came, and brightened the fhaggy fide of the hill. "Connal! talk of arms no more: Departed is "my fame. My fighs fhall be on Cromla's wind, "till my footsteps ceafe to be feen. And thou, "white-bofomed Bragela! mourn over the fall of my fame; for vanquished, I will never return "to thee, thou fun-beam of Dunfcaich *!"? Æftuat Ingens Uno in corde pudor, luctufque, & confcia virtus. Befides fuch extended pathetick scenes, Offian frequently pierces the heart by a fingle unexpected ftroke. When Ofcar fell in battle, No father "mourned his fon flain in youth; no brother, his "brother of love; they fell without tears, for the "chief of the people was low+." In the admirable interview of Hector with Andromache, in the fixth Iliad, the circumftance of the child in his nurfe's arms, has often been remarked, as adding much to the tenderness of the fcene. In the following paffage relating to the death of Cuchullin, we find a circumftance that must strike the imagination * Vel, i. p. 86. + Vol. i. p. 254. with ftill greater force. "And is the fon of Semo "fallen? faid Carril with a figh. Mournful are "Tura's walls, and forrow dwells at Dunscaich. σε Thy fpoufe is left alone in her youth; the fon "of thy love is alone. He shall come to Bragela, "and afk her why the weeps. He shall lift his eyes "to the wall, and see his father's fword. Whose "fword is that? he will fay; and the foul of his "mother is fad*." Soon after Fingal had shewn all the grief of a father's heart for Ryno, one of his fons, fallen in battle, he is calling, after his accustomed manner, his fons to the chase." Call," fays he, "Fillan and Ryno-But he is not hereMy fon refts on the bed of death +."-This unexpected start of anguish, is worthy of the highest tragic poet, If the come in, fhe'll fure fpeak to my wifeMy wife!-my wife-What wife?—I have no wife Oh infupportable! Oh heavy hour! Othello, Act 5. Scene 7. The contrivance of the incident in both poets. is fimilar; but the circumftances are varied with judgment. Othello dwells upon the name of wife, when it had fallen from him, with the confufion and horror of one tortured with guilt. Fingal, with the dignity of a hero, corrects himself, and fuppreffes his rifing grief. The contraft which Offian frequently makes between his present and his former ftate, diffufes over his whole poetry, a folemn pathetick air, which cannot fail to make impreffion on every heart. The * Vol. i. p. 214. + Vol. i. p. 119. Ff 4 con conclufion of the fongs of Selma, is particularly calculated for this purpose. Nothing can be more poetical and tender, or can leave upon the mind, a ftronger, and more affecting idea of the venerable aged bard. "Such were the words of the "bards in the days of the fong; when the king "heard the mufic of harps, and the tales of other "times. The chiefs gathered from all their hills, "and heard the lovely found. They praised the "voice of Cona*; the first among a thousand bards. "But age is now on my tongue, and my foul has "failed. I hear, fometimes, the ghofts of bards, " and learn their pleafant fong. But memory fails "on my mind; I hear the call of years. They fay, as they pafs along; Why does Offian fing? "Soon fhall he lie in the narrow house, and no "bard fhall raife his fame. Roll on, ye dark-brown "years! for ye bring no joy in your course. Let "the tomb open to Offian, for his ftrength has "failed. The fons of the fong are gone to rest. "My voice remains, like a blast, that roars lonely "on a fea-furrounded rock, after the winds are "laid. The dark mofs whistles there, and the diftant mariner fees the waving trees +." Upon the whole; if to feel ftrongly, and to describe naturally, be the two chief ingredients in poetical genius, Offian muft, after fair examination, be held to poffefs that genius in a high degree. The question is not, whether a few improprieties may be pointed out in his works; whether this, or that paffage, might not have been worked up with * Offian himself is poetically called the voice of Cona. + Vol. i. p. 302. more more art and skill, by fome writer of happier times? A thousand fuch cold and frivolous criticifms, are altogether indecifive as to his genuine merit. But, has he the fpirit, the fire, the infpiration of a poet? Does he utter the voice of nature? Does he elevate by his fentiments? Does he intereft by his defcriptions? Does he paint to the heart as well as to the fancy? Does he make his readers glow, and tremble, and weep? These are the great characteristicks of true poetry. Where these are found, he muft be a minute critic indeed, who can dwell upon flight defects. A few beauties of this high kind, tranfcend whole volumes of faultlefs mediocrity. Uncouth and abrupt, Offian may may sometimes appear by reason of his conciseness. But he is fublime, he is pathetick, in an eminent degree. If he has not the extensive knowledge, the regular dignity of narration, the fulness and accuracy of defcription, which we find in Homer and Virgil, yet in ftrength of imagination, in grandeur of fentiment, in native majefty of paffion, he is fully their equal. If he flows not always like a clear stream, yet he breaks forth often like a torrent of fire. Of art too, he is far from being deftitute; and his imagination is remarkable for delicacy as well as ftrength. Seldom or never is he either trifling or tedious and if he be thought too melancholy, yet he is always moral. Though his merit were in other refpects much lefs than it is, this alone ought to entitle him to high regard, that his writings are remarkably favourable to virtue. They awake the tendereft fympathies, and infpire the most generous emotions, emotions. No reader can rife from him, without being warmed with the fentiments of humanity, virtue and honour. Though unacquainted with the original language, there is no one but muft judge the translation to deferve the highest praise, on account of its beauty and elegance. Of its faithfulness and accuracy, I have been affured by persons skilled in the Galic tongue, who, from their youth, were acquainted with many of these poems of Offian. To transfufe fuch spirited and fervid ideas from one language into another; to tranflate literally, and yet with fuch a glow of poetry; to keep alive so much paffion, and fupport fo much dignity throughout, is one of the most difficult works of genius, and proves the tranflator to have been animated with no fmall portion of Offian's spirit. The measured profe which he has employed, poffeffes confiderable advantages above any sort of verfification he could have chofen. Whilft it pleases and fills the ear with a variety of harmonious cadences, being, at the fame time, freer from constraint in the choice and arrangement of words, it allows the spirit of the original to be exhibited with more juftness, force, and fimplicity. Elegant however, and masterly as Mr. Macpherson's tranflation is, we must never forget, whilst we read it, that we are putting the merit of the original to a fevere teft. For, we are examining a poet ftripped of his native drefs: divefted of the harmony of his own numbers. We know how much grace and energy the works of the Greek and Latin poets receive 1 |
