Page images
PDF
EPUB

in order to ascertain the following particulars: 1. Whether Macpherson did not in many instances misconceive the meaning of the original, and consequently gave an erroneous translation? 2. Whether he did not frequently add many words or expressions not to be found in the original, which additions have been adduced as plagiarisms from other authors; and consequently as arguments against the authenticity of the poems? 3. Whether he did not leave out many beautiful words and passages to be found in the original? 4. Whether he did not pass over any words or phrases which he found it difficult to translate? and 5. Whether on the whole, he did sufficient justice to the nervous simplicity and genuine beauties of the Celtic bard? All these circumstances will appear beyond question, by a fair comparison between Macpherson's and a new translation.

As it is impossible to undertake a new translation either of the whole, or of any considerable portion of Ossian's poems, in time sufficient to accompany this publication, (though it is to be hoped that so desirable a work will speedily be set about), yet the circumstances above alluded to, are so generally to be found in the whole of Macpherson's translation, that the examination of a few pages of the poems will be sufficient to h

may

produce conviction; and the first book of Fingal is selected for that purpose, being part of a poem, in the translation of which, it was supposed, that Macpherson had taken particular pains, and in which, some of the finest passages in Ossian are to be met with. Those who wish to compare the English translation, with the original Gaelic, and with the Latin translation by Macfarlan, will find that book of Fingal at the commencement of the second volume. It is only necessary, therefore, in this place, to print opposite to each other, 1. Macpherson's translation; and 2. A new translation, done as literally from the original as is consistent with the language of poetry; after which, some observations will follow, for the purpose of ascertaining, how far the particulars above alluded to, regarding the inferiority of Macpherson's translation, can be proved, by a critical examination of this book of Fingal.

The new translation is executed by the Rev. Thomas Ross, now one of the ministers of the Scotch church in Rotterdam, by whom the original poems were transcribed for this publication.

It the notes will be found a more literal translation of what has been already differently expressed

may be proper here to observe, that in

in the text. The words inclosed in parentheses (thus) ought always to be read, as they are necessary either to complete the sense, or to add to the perspicuity of the English version, though they are not to be found in the original Gaelic.

MACPHERSON'S TRANSLATION.

FROM THE CORRECTED EDITION OF 1773.

FINGAL.

BOOK I..

CUTHULLIN sat by Tura's wall:
By the tree of the rustling sound.
His spear leaned against a rock.
His shield lay on grass, by his side.
Amid his thoughts of mighty Cairbar,

A hero slain by the chief in war;
The scout of ocean comes,

Moran, the son of Fithil!

[ocr errors]

Arise," says the youth, "Cuthullin, arise. "I see the ships of the north!

"Many, chief of men, are the foe;

"Many the heroes of the sea-borne Swaran !"

"Moran," replied the blue-eyed chief,

"Thou ever tremblest, son of Fithil!

[ocr errors]

Thy fears have increased the foe.

"It is Fingal, king of desarts,

"With aid to green Erin of streams."

5

10

15

A NEW TRANSLATION FROM THE ORIGINAL GAELIC,

BY THE REV. THOMAS ROSS.

[The attention of the reader is particularly requested, to those passages in this translation which are printed in Italics, as clearly proving the superiority of the new translation.]

FINGAL.

BOOK I

CUCHULLIN sat by the wall of Tura,
In the shade of a rustling tree;

His spear leaned against the rock of caves;
His great shield by his side on the grass.

The thoughts of the chief dwelt on Cairbar,*

A hero he had slain in war,

When the scout of the ocean came,

The swift, high-bounding son of Fithil.
"Rise! Cuchullin, rise!

"I see a mighty fleet from the north!
"Haste, haste, thou chief of the feast ;†
"Great is Swaran, numerous his host."

"Moran," replied the blue-eyed chief,
"Feeble thou art, and ever trembling:
"In thy fear the foe is numerous. ‡
"Son of Fithil, it is Fingal,

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

5

10

15

« PreviousContinue »