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to be found in the original; and "The fir on the mountain cliff," is certainly much more natural and impressive than" the blasted pine," as translated by Macpherson. In the Gaelic, the scout next describes the chief" sitting upon a rock on the shore, and resembling the mist on yonder hill," which is infinitely finer than "sitting on the shore, like a cloud of mist on the silent hill." In Macpherson, Swaran's heroes are not at all taken notice of; whereas, in the Gaelic, the scout, after complimenting Swaran on the power of his host, does justice to the valour and superiority of his own countrymen. Nor can there be any comparison between "Many mighty men ARE SEEN from Tura's windy walls," and "But more numerous and mighty chiefs, SURROUND the windy Tura."

The superiority of the Gaelic, and of the new translation faithfully done from it, is so very evident, that it affords the strongest internal evidence, (in the minds of many, more especially those who have a knowledge of the Gaelic, it must be irresistible), that Macpherson could not have been the real author of these poems. His fame depended, not on the Gaelic, but on the English version, which he must necessarily have endeavoured to render as complete as possible; but, from a mistaken wish to improve, he has in many instances destroyed the majestic simplicity of the original, by using such turgid expressions, as, the glittering rock, the blasted pine, the sea-borne Swaran, green Erin of streams, the mist on the silent hill, meretricious ornaments, which have no foundation whatever in the original.

In short, in so far as it is possible to judge from this specimen, and from a similar investigation which will be found in the Report of the Highland Society, p. 130, it would be necessary to publish a new translation of Ossian, in order to give to the public a just idea of the nervous simplicity, and genuine beauties, of that celebrated poet, to neither of which Macpherson has done sufficient justice. Nor is it any longer to be wondered at, that an excellent Gaelic scholar, who knew him well, who could appreciate the talents he possessed, and who assisted him in transcribing the poems, (Captain Morison), should declare," that Macpherson could as well compose the Prophecies of Isaiah, or create the Island of Skye, as compose a poem like one of Ossian's."*

In Vol. III. p. 58, the word mheirghe is used, which signifies vexillum, or in English a banner. The poet probably meant that the chief came to the king under his banners. It is singular that Mr. Macpherson

• Report of the Highland Society, p. 171.

leaves out this word altogether in his translation, probably from the difficulty he found to explain it properly; a proof among many others of the same sort which might be adduced, that he could not have been the original author.

No. VI.

A Scene from Ossian. By Sir John Sinclair, Bart.

It is a fact perfectly well ascertained, that in former times the Highlanders were accustomed to act the poems of Ossian, at their festivals and other public meetings. This is a strong proof of the authenticity of these poems; for if there had existed nothing but common ballads, they could only have been repeated or sung by one individual; whereas from Fingal, and the other poems of Ossian, when they are properly translated, some of the finest dramatic scenes that ever were composed, may be extracted with very little difficulty. As a proof of the justness of that observation, I have sketched out a scene from the first Book of Fingal, drawn up from the new translation of that book above printed. The story is as follows:

Cuthullin, the leader of the Irish armies, during the minority of Cormac king of Ireland, assembles his chiefs to determine whether they are to fight Swaran king of Lochlin or Denmark, who had invaded Ireland with a powerful fleet, or whether it would not be more advisable to propose a truce, until Fingal king of Morven should come to their assistance. The chiefs, who had been following the chase, were assembled on a height whence they saw the fleet of the enemy. Cuthullin first states the question to be discussed, in distinct and energetic terms, and then calls upon Connal, a leader distinguished for his valour and experience, to deliver his sentiments. His opinion is given decisively in favour of peace. Calmar, the son of Mathas, a gallant young warrior, reprobates the timid councils of Connal, and urges Cuthullin not only to attack the enemy, but after defeating Swaran, to carry the war into Denmark. Connal justifies himself, perseveres in recommending peace, but declares his resolution at the same time, to assist his countrymen, if war is deter

* See letter from Mr. Donald Macleod, minister of Glenelg, to the Rev. Doctor Blair, dated 26th March 1764, in the Report of the Highland Society, as to the Poems of Ossian, Appendix, p. 29.

mined on

Cuthullin then resolves on war, animates his chiefs to carry it on with spirit, and gives orders to prepare for immediate hostilities. He announces the subject of deliberation in the following terms:

CUTHULLIN.

Hail to the manly sons of Erin's vales;
Hail to the hardy hunters of the deer;
Another sport, my friends, awaits us now;
Behold the foe off yon projecting point;
Say, shall we fight the billowy Lochlin's sons,
Or yield green Erin to the invading foe?
Connal,-thou first of men,

Illustrious warrior,-Breaker of shields,
Oft hast thou fought with Lochlin;

Wilt thou, O chief! advance thy father's spear?

CONNAL.

Noble Cuthullin,

Still is the spear of Connal keen in war;

Still I delight, as I have ever done,

To crush, in bloody fight, my country's foes;

But though my hand would seek the battle,

My heart desires the peace of Erin.

O! Bravest chief of the illustrious Cormac,
Behold the hostile fleet as it rises,

As it mounts aloft on the distant wave;

Like the woods on the banks of Lego,
Like forests are the masts of strangers,
Moving on the curling waves,
And bending alternate to the breeze.

CUTHULLIN.

What then? Shall we not fight the foe?

CONNAL.

Cuthullin, Connal sighs for peace,

Give tribute to mighty Swaran,

Fingal himself would shun the contest,

High chief of the sons of Alba,

Fingal, who disperses the brave,

As the whirlwind scatters the grass,

When the torrent roars through the rocky Cona,
And in his robe of clouds is Morven wrapt.

CALMAR SON OF MATHAS.

Away with peace, thou feeble man;
Let Connal fly to his gloomy hill;
Let his spear contend with the hind,
And not rise in the strife of heroes;
Let him pursue the deer on Cromla;
Let him pierce the timid roe.
But thou, O son of generous Semo,
High chief of our numerous bands,
Disperse and rout the sons of Lochlin;
Scatter the host of sea-born strangers;
Till not a skiff shall rise upon the wave,
With sail or plying oar.

Then let us fly in our strength,
On the raging sea of Innis-tore,
To revenge the wrongs of Erin.

May I perish by a blast from heaven,
If I prefer not to the chase of the deer,

The hottest conflict of embattled hosts!

An ingenious poet has suggested, that the speech of Calmar might be altered as follows:

Away with peace, thou feeble man. Let Connal
Fly to his gloomy hill. There let his spear
Strive with the hind, and not in glorious conflict
Rise in the strife of heroes; let his arm,
On Cromla chase the flying deer, or pierce
The timid roe.-But thou, of gen'rous Semo
Illustrious son, chief of our numerous bands,
Disperse the sons of Lochlin; scatter wide
The host of sea-born strangers ;-
Till not a skiff shall rise upon the wave,
With sail or plying oar.

Then in our strength impetuous let us speed,
On Innis-tore's rough billows, to avenge

The wrongs of Erin. By a blast from heaven
May Calmar perish, if he not prefer
To th' inglorious chase of the swift deer,
The hottest conflict of embattled hosts!

CONNAL.

Young son of Mathas, I ne'er yet declined,
The strife of shields; and I was ever nigh
My friends in battle with the lifted spear:
But tho' a warrior, sharing with the brave,
The well earn'd victory,

Yet fame I courted not.-As for this war,
Thou son of generous Semo, hear my voice,
Regard young Cormac and his ancient throne:
Give tribute to the fierce and pow'rful foe,
Till Fingal comes, and all his warlike chiefs:
But if thy soul delights in bloody strife,
I wield the sword and spear.

CUTHULLIN.

Then let us wield the spear,

And let the mighty sons of Erin rise.

Let each band form itself in shining arms,

And sweep along with speed the gloomy heath,

Like to a sun-beam on the mountain top.
Pleasant to me, O brave and gallant chiefs,
Is the hard crash of bright contending arms,

"Tis like the thunder on the rugged cliff,

When the soft showers of spring at first descend.-
Quick let each band advance,"

Prepare my car, fill it with massy spears,
Attend my bounding steeds upon the plain;
And when the mighty conflict rages round,
My soul shall be, firm like yon tow'ring rock.

These speeches are extracted, with very trifling variations, from Mr. Ross's new and literal translation of the first Book of Fingal, executed from the original Gaelic. The spirit and animation of the original, are, it is said, very imperfectly given even in that translation; a circumstance which fully justifies the enthusiasm with which the natives of the Highlands speak of their favourite Poet, who was not only the Homer, but

This is taken from another part of the poem, after the episode of Cathbat and Duchomar

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