CONLATH and CUTHÓNA:

A POEM*.

ID not Offian hear a voice? or is it the found of days that are no more? Often does the memory of former times come, like the evening fun, on my foul. The noife of the

* Conlath was the youngest of Morni's fons, and brother to the celebrated Gaul, who is fo often mentioned in Offian's poems. He was in love with Cuthóna the daughter of Rumar, when Tofcar the son of Kinfena, accompanied by Fercuth his friend, arrived, from Ireland, at Mora where Conlath dwelt. He was hofpitably received, and according to the cuftom of the times, feafted, three days, with Conlath. On the fourth he fet fail, and coafting the island of waves, probably, one of the Hebrides, he faw Cuthóna hunting, fell in love with her, and carried her away, by force, in his fhip. He was forced, by ftrefs of weather, into I-thona a defart ifle. In the mean time Conlath, hearing of the rape, failed after him, and found him on the point of failing for the coaft of Ireland. They fought; and they, and their followers fell by mutual wounds. Cuthóna did not long furvive: for fhe died of grief the third day after. Fingal, hearing of their unfortunate death, fent Stormal the fon of Moran to bury them, but forgot to fend a bard to fing the funeral fong over their tombs. The ghoft of Conlath came, long after, to Offian, to intreat him to tranfmit, to pofterity, his and Cuthona's fame. For it was the opinion of the times, that the fouls of the deceased were not happy, till their elegies were compofed by a bard. Thus is the ftory of the poem handed down by tradition.

chace

chace is renewed; and, in thought, I lift the fpear. But Offian did hear a voice: Who art thou, fon of the night? The fons of little men are asleep, and the midnight wind is in my hall. Perhaps it is the shield of Fingal that echoes to the blaft, it hangs in Offian's hall, and he feels it fometimes with his hands. Yes!---I hear

thee, my friend long has thy voice been absent from mine ear! What brings thee, on thy cloud, to Offian, fon of the generous Morni ? Are the friends of the aged near thee? Where is Ofcar, fon of fame ?---He was often near thee, O Conlath, when the din of battle rofe.

GHOST of CONLATH.

SLEEPS the sweet voice of Cona, in the midft of his rustling hall? Sleeps Offian in his hall, and his friends without their fame? The fea rolls round the dark I-thona*, and our tombs are not feen by the ftranger. How long fhall our fame be unheard, fon of the echoing Morven ?

OSSIAN,

O THAT mine eyes could behold thee, as thou fitteft, dim, on thy cloud! Art thou like the mift of Lano; or an half-extinguished meteor?

* I-thonn, island of waves, one of the uninhabited western ifles.

Of

Of what are the skirts of thy robe? Of what is thine airy bow?—But he is gone on his blast like the shadow of mift.---Come from thy wall, my harp, and let me hear thy found. Let the light of memory rife on I-thona; that I may behold my friends. And Offian does behold his friends, on the dark-blue ifle.---The cave of Thona appears, with its moffy rocks and bending trees. A ftream roars at its mouth, and Tofcar bends over its courfe. Fercuth is fad by his fide: and the maid * of his love fits at a diftance, and weeps. Does the wind of the waves deceive me? Or do I hear them speak?

TOSCAR.

THE night was ftormy. From their hills the groaning oaks came down. The fea darklytumbled beneath the blaft, and the roaring waves were climbing against our rocks.---The lightning came often and fhewed the blafted fern.---Fercuth! I faw the ghost of night. Silent he stood, on that bank; his robe of mist

Cathóna the daughter of Rumar, whom Tofcar had carried away by force.

It was long thought, in the north of Scotland, that forms were raised by the ghosts of the deceased. This notion is still entertained by the vulgar; for they think that whirlwinds, and fudden fqualls of wind are occafioned by fpirits, who transport themfelves, in that manner, from one place to another.

flew

flew on the wind.---I could behold his tears: an

aged man he seemed, and full of thought.

FERCUTH.

ap

Ir was thy father, O Tofcar; and he forefees some death among his race. Such was his pearance on Cromla, before the great Ma-ronnan* fell.-Ullin! with thy hills of grafs, how pleasant are thy vales! Silence is near thy blue ftreams, and the fun is on thy fields. Soft is the found of the harp in Seláma ‡, and pleafant the of the hunter on Crómla. But we cry are in the dark I-thona, furrounded by the ftorm. The billows lift their white heads above our rocks: and we tremble amidst the night.

TOSCAR.

WHITHER is the foul of battle fled, Fercuth with the locks of age? I have feen thee undaunted in danger, and thine eyes burning with joy in the fight. Whither is the foul of battle fled? Our fathers never feared.---Go: view the

Ma-ronnan was the brother of Tofcar: the translator has a poem in his poffeffion concerning the extraordinary death of that hero.

+ Ulfter in Ireland.

Selámath-beautiful to behold, the name of Toscar's palace, on the coast of Ulster, near the mountain Cromla the fcene of the

epic poem.

fettling

fettling fea the ftormy wind is laid. The billows ftill tremble on the deep, and feem to fear the blaft. But view the fettling fea: morning is gray on our rocks. The fun will look foon from his eaft; in all his pride of light.

I LIFTED up my fails, with joy, before the halls of generous Conlath. My course was by the ifle of waves, where his love purfued the deer. I faw her, like that beam of the fun that iffues from the cloud. Her hair was on her heaving breast; fhe, bending forward, drew the bow her white arm feemed, behind her, like the fnow of Cromla:Come to my foul, I faid, thou huntress of the ifle of waves! But the spends her time in tears, and thinks of the generous Conlath. Where can I find thy peace, Cuthona, lovely maid!!

CU-THONAT.

A DISTANT fteep bends over the fea, with aged trees and moffy rocks: the billows roll at its feet on its fide is the dwelling of roes. The

-the face of ocean fleeps,

And a still horror faddens all the deeps.

POPE'S Homer.

+ Cu-thona, the mournful found of the waves; a poetical name given her by Offian, on account of her mourning to the found of the waves; her name in tradition is Gorm-huil, the blue-eyed maid.

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