Page:Poems of Ossian.djvu/107

Rh behold Fingal in the midst of his host; bright as the coming forth of the morning, in the cloud of an early shower.

. Dwell, thou mist of gloomy Crona, dwell on the path of the king! Hide his steps from mine eyes, let me remember my friend no more. The bands of battle are scattered, no crowding tread is round the noise of his steel. O Carun! roll thy streams of blood, the chief of the people is low.

. Who fell on Carun's sounding banks, son of the cloudy night? Was he white as the snow of Ardven? Blooming as the bow of the shower? Was his hair like the mist of the hill, soft and curling in the day of the sun? Was he like the thunder of heaven in battle? Fleet as the roe of the desert?

. O that I might behold his love, fair-leaning from her rock! Her red eye dim in tears, her blushing cheek half