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sight of him I love ? Son of the sea! I never fled: exalt thy pointed spear.

They fought like two contending winds, that strive to roll the wave. Carthon bade his spear to err: he still thought that the foe was the spouse of Moina. Ile broke Clessámmor's beamy spear in twain: he seized his shining sword. But as Carthon was binding the chief, the chief drew the dagger of his fathers. He saw the foe's uncovered side, and opened there a wound.

Fingal saw Clessámmor low: he moved in the sound of his steel. The host stood silent in his presence: they turned their eyes to the king. He came like the sullen noise of a storm before the winds arise : the hunter hears it in the vale, and retires to the cave of the rock. Carthon stood in his place, the blood is rushing down his side: he saw the coming down of the king, his hopes of fame arose, but pale was his cheek: his hair flew loose, his helmet shook on high: the force of Carthon failed, but his sword was strong.

Fingal beheld the hero's blood; he stopt the uplifted spear. “Yield, king of swords !” said Comhal's son, ul behold thy blood; thou hast been mighty in battle, and thy fame shall never fade.” Art thou the king so far renowned ? replied the car-borne Carthon: art thou that light of death, that frightens the kings of the world ? But why should Carthon ask ? for he is like the stream of his hills, strong as a river in his course, swift as the eagle of heaven. ( that I had fought with the king, that my fame might be great in song that the hunter, beho:ding my tomb, might say, he fought with the mighty Fingal. But Carthon dies unknown: he has poured out his force on the weak.

“But thou shalt not die unknown, replied the king of woody Morven: my bards are many, O Carthon! their songs descend to future times. The children of years

to come shall hear the fame of Carthon, when they sit round the burning oak, and the night is spent in songs of old. The hunter, sitting in the heath, shall hear the rustling blast, and raising his eyes, behold the rock where Carthon fell. He shall turn to his son, and show the place where the mighty fought: There the king of Balclutha fought, like the strength of a thousand streams."

Joy rose in Carthon's face; he lifted his heavy eyes. He gave his sword to Fingal, to lie within his hall, that the memory of Balclutha's king might remain in Mor. ven. The battle ceased along the field, the bard had sung the song of peace. The chiefs gathered round the falling Carthon; they heard his words with sighs. Silent they leaned on their spears, while Balclutha's bèro spoke. His hair sighed in the wind, and his voice was sad and low.

“ King of Morven,” Carthon said, “ I fall in the midst of my course. A foreign tomb receives, in youth, the last of Reuthámir's race. Darkness dwells in Bal. clutha; the shadows of grief in Crathmo. But raise my remembrance on the banks of Lora, where my fathers dwelt. Perhaps the husband of Moina will mourn over his fallen Carthon.” His words reached the heart of Clessámmor: he fell in silence on his son. The host stood darkened around : no voice is on the plain. Night came: the moon, from the east, looked on the mourn. ful field; but still they stood, like a silent grove that lifts its head on Gormal, when the loud winds are laid, and dark autumn is on the plain.

Three days they mourned above Carthon; on the fourth his father died. In the narrow plain of the rock chey lie; a dim ghost defends their tomb. There lovely Moina is often seen, when the sunbeam darts on the rock, and all around is darke. There she is seen, Malvina ; but not like the daughters of the hill. Her

robes are from the stranger's land, and she is still alone!

Fingal was sad for Carthon; he commanded his bards to mark the day when shadowy autumn returned; and often did they mark the day, and sing the hero's praise. “Who comes so dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's shadowy cloud ? Death is trembling in his hand! his eyes are flames of fire! Who roars along dark Lora's heath? Who but Carthon, king of swords! The people fall! see how he strides like the sullen ghost of Morven! But there he lies, a goodly oak which sudden blasts overturned! When shalt thou rise, Balclutha's joy? When, Carthon, shalt thou arise? Who comes so dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's shad. owy cloud ?” Such were the words of the bards in the day of their mourning ; Ossian often joined their voice, and added to their song. My soul has been mournful for Carthon : he fell in the days of his youth; and thou, O Clessámmor! where is thy dwelling in the wind ? Has the youth forgot his wound ? Flies he on clouds with thee? I feel the sun, O Malvina ! leave me to my rest. Perhaps they may come to my dreams : I think I hear a feeble voice! The beam of heaven delights to shine on the grave of Carthon: I feel it warm around.

O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light! Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave ; but thou thyself movest alone. Who can be a companion of thy course ? The oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains themselves decay with years; the ocean shrinks and grows again; the moon herself is lost in heaven: but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunder rolls and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy

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