Page:Fragments of Ancient Poetry.djvu/53

 on Oscur; my son was the youth of her love. She forgot the blood of her father; and loved the hand that slew him.

of Oscian, said Dermid, I love; O Oscur, I love this maid. But her soul cleaveth unto thee; and nothing can heal Dermid. Here, pierce this bosom, Oscur; relieve me, my friend, with thy sword.

sword, son of Morny, shall never be stained with the blood of Dermid.

then is worthy to slay me, O Oscur son of Oscian? Let not my life pass away unknown. Let none but Oscur slay me. Send me with honour to the grave, and let my death be renowned.