132
poems.
'Carun of streams! why roll thy waves so red
With blood of heroes fresh and newly shed?
Did I behold it? was the loud battle heard?
And sleeps the king of Morven? for one word
To still this mad'ning terror! Rise, moon, rise!
Look from the clouds, thou daughter of the skies;
Let me behold the gleam of his bright steel;
Haste! to my longing eyes the sight reveal!
On the fair field, made sacred by the vow
Of his return, oh, show the bright sign now!
Or rather let the meteor that gives light
To guide our fathers through the doubtful night,
Come, with red beam, to show my steps the way,
That by my fallen hero I may pray.
Ah, who will shield the stricken one from grief?
Who guard her from the love of that dread chief,
The hated Hidallan? Long may her mournful eye
Look o'er the desert plain ere she descry
Fingal amidst his host, bright as the morn
When its quick rays the misty east adorn
Through clouds of early showers—'
Hush! he's near!
Dark is his eye; he heedeth not her fear,
Hidallan speaks: 'Dwell, mist of Crona, dwell
On the dark path of him she loves so well.
Hide from mine eyes his steps; let me forget
With blood of heroes fresh and newly shed?
Did I behold it? was the loud battle heard?
And sleeps the king of Morven? for one word
To still this mad'ning terror! Rise, moon, rise!
Look from the clouds, thou daughter of the skies;
Let me behold the gleam of his bright steel;
Haste! to my longing eyes the sight reveal!
On the fair field, made sacred by the vow
Of his return, oh, show the bright sign now!
Or rather let the meteor that gives light
To guide our fathers through the doubtful night,
Come, with red beam, to show my steps the way,
That by my fallen hero I may pray.
Ah, who will shield the stricken one from grief?
Who guard her from the love of that dread chief,
The hated Hidallan? Long may her mournful eye
Look o'er the desert plain ere she descry
Fingal amidst his host, bright as the morn
When its quick rays the misty east adorn
Through clouds of early showers—'
Hush! he's near!
Dark is his eye; he heedeth not her fear,
Hidallan speaks: 'Dwell, mist of Crona, dwell
On the dark path of him she loves so well.
Hide from mine eyes his steps; let me forget
