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beauty, dark-haired daughter of Nuäth? Lathmon is in the field of the valiant, but thou dids: promise to re. main in the hall till the son of Morni returned. Till he returned from Strumon, to the maid of his love! The tear was on thy cheek at his departure ; the sigh rose in secret in thy breast. But thou dost not come forth with songs, with the lightly trerabling sound of the harp!”
Such were the words of Gaul, when he came to Dun. lathmon's towers. The gates were open and dark. The winds were blustering in the hall. The trees strewed the threshold with leaves; the murmur of night was abroad. Sad and silent, at a rock, the son of Morni sat: his soul trembled for the maid; but he knew not whither to turn his course! The son of Leth stood at a distance, and heard the winds in his bushy hair. But he did not raise his voice, for he saw the sorrow of Gaul !
Sleep descended on the chiefs. The visions of night arose. Oithona stood, in a dream, before the eyes of Morni's son. Her hair was loose and disordered ; ler lovely eye rolled deep in tears. Blood stained her snowy arm. The robe half hid the wound of her breast. She stood over the chief, and her voice was feebly heard. “Sleeps the son of Morni, he that was lovely in the eyes of Oithona ? Sleeps Gaul at the distant rock, and the daughter of Nuäth low? The sea rolls round the dark isle of Tromáthon. I sit in my tears in the cave! Nor do I sit alone, O Gaul! the dark chief of Cuthal is there. He is there in the rage of his love. What can Oithona do ?”
A rougher blast rushed through the oak. The dream of night departed. Gaul took his aspen epear. He stood in the rage of his soul. Often did his eyeg turp to the east. He accused the lagging light At length the morning came forth. The hero lifted up the sail.
The winds came rustling from the hill; he bounded on the waves of the deep. On the third day arose Tro. máthon, like a blue shield in the midst of the sea. The white wave roared against its rocks; sad Oithona sat on the coast! She looked on the rolling waters, and her tears came down. But when she saw Gaui in his arms, she started, and turned her eyes away. Her lovely cheek is bent and red; her white arm trembles by her side.
Thrice she strove to fly from his presence; thrice her steps failed as she went !
“ Daughter of Nuäth,” said the hero, “why dost thou ! fly from Gaul ? Do my eyes send forth the flame of death? Darkens hatred in my soul? Thou art to me the beam of the east, rising in a land unknown. But thou coverest thy face with sadness, daughter of car. borne Nuäth! Is the foe of Oithona near! My soul burns to meet him in fight. The sword trembles by the side of Gaul, and longs to glitter in his hand. Speak, daughter of Nuäth! Dost thou not behold my tears ?"
“ Young chief of Strumon,” replied the maid, “why comest thou over the dark blue wave, to Nuäth's mourn. ful daughter! Why did I not pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered leaves on the blast! Why didst thou come, O Gaul! to hear my departing sigh! I vanish in my youth ; my name shall not be heard. Or it will be heard with grief; the tears of Nuäth must fall. Thou wilt be sad, son of Morni! for the departed fame of Oithona. But she shall sleep in the narrow tomb, far from the voice of the mourner.
Why didst thou come, chief of Strumon! to the sea-beat rocks of Tromáthon!"
“I came to meet thy foes, daughter of car-borne Nuäin! The death of Cuthal's chief darkens before me; or Morni's son shall fall! Oithona! when Gaul is low,
aring the bows of our fathers ! the sounding quiver of Morni! Let our three warriors bend the yew. Our. selves will lift the spear. They are a host on the rock! our souls are strong in war!” Oithona went to the cave.
A troubled joy rose on her mind, like the red path of lightning on a stormy cloud! Her soul was resolved: the tear was dried from her wildly-looking eye.
Dunrommath slowly approached. He saw the son of Morni. Contempt con. tracted his face, a smile is on his dark brown cheek; his red eye rolled half concealed, beneath his shaggy brows!
“Whence are the sons of the sea ?”' began the gloomy chief. Have the winds driven you on the rocks of Tromáthon ? or come you in search of the white. handed maid ? the sons of the unhappy, ye feeble men, come to the hand of Dunrommath! His eye spares not the weak; he delights in the blood of strangers. Oithona is a beam of light, and the chief of Cuthal enjoys it in secret; wouldst thou come on its loveliness like a cloud, son of the feeble hand? Thou mayest come, but shalt thou return to the halls of thy fathers ?”
“Dost thou not know me,” said Gaul, “ red-haired chief of Cuthal ? Thy feet were swift on the heath, in he battle of car-borne Lathmon; when the sword of Morni's son pursued his host, in Morven's woody land. Dunrommath! thy words are mighty, for thy warriors gather behind thee. But do I fear them, son of pride ? I am not of the race of the feeble !"
Gaul advanced in his arms; Dunrommath shrunk be. hind his people. But the spear of Gaul pierced the gloomy chief: his sword lopped off his head, as it
bended in death. The son of Morni shook it thrice by . the lock; the warriors of Dunrommath Aed. The
arrows of Morven pursued them: ten fell on the mossy rocks. The rest lift the sounding sail, and bound on the
troubled deep. Gaul advanced towards the cave of Oithona. He beheld a youth leaning on a rock. An arrow had pierced his side ; his eye rolled faintly be. neath his helmet. The soul of Morni's son was sad; he came, and spoke the words of peace.
“Can the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the mournful brow? I have searched for the herbs of the mountains; I have gathered them on the secret banks of their streams. My hand has closed the wound of the brave, their eyes have blessed the son of Morni. Where dwelt thy fathers, warrior ? Were they of the sons of the mighty! Sadness shall come, like night, on thy native streams. Thou art fallen in thy youth !": My fathers,” replied the stranger,
66 were of the race of the mighty ; but they shall not be sad; for my fame is departed like morning mist. High walls rise on the banks of Duvranna ; and see their mossy towers in the stream; a rock ascends behind them with its bending pines. Thou mayest behold it far distant. There my brother dwells. He is renowned in battle: give him this glittering helmet.”
The helmet fell from the hand of Gaul. It was the wounded Oithona! She had armed herself in the cave, and came in search of death. Her heavy eyes are half closed; the blood pours from her heaving side. “Son of Morni !” she said, " prepare the narrow tomb. Sleep grows, like darkness, on my soul. The eyes of Oithona are dim! O had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the bright beam of my fame! then had my years come on with joy; the virgins would then bless my steps. But I fall in youth, son of Morni! my father shall blush in his hall!"
She fell pale on the rock of Tromáthon. The mourn. ful warrior raised her tomb. He came to Morven; we. saw the darkness of his soul. Ossian took the harp in the praise of Oithona. The brightness of the face of