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Snow; sweet as the breathing Gale. Arindel, thy Bow was strong, thy Spear was swift in the Field: Thy Look was like Mist on the Wave, thy Shield, a red Cloud in a Storm. Armor renowned in War came, and sought Daura's Love; he was not long denied: Fair was the Hope of their Friends.
Earcb, Son of Odgal, repined; for his Brother was slain by Armor. He came disguised like a Son of the Sea: Fair was his Skiff on the Wave; white his Locks of Age; calm his serious Brow. Fairest of Women, he said, lovely Daughter of Armyn! a Rock not distant in the Sea, bears a Tree on its Side; red shines the Fruit afar. There Armor waiteth for Daura. I came to fetch his Love. Come, fair Daughter of Armyn /
She went; and see called on Armor. Nought answered, but the Son of the Rock. Armor, my Love! my Love! why tormentest thou me with Fear? hear, Son of Ardnart, hear : It is Daura who calleth thee \—-Earcb the Traitor fled laughing to the Land. She lifted up her Voice, and cried for her Brother and her Father. Arindel! Armyn! none to relieve your Daura I
Her Voice came over the Sea. Arindel my Son descended from the Hill; rough in the Spoils of the the Chace. His Arrows rattled by his Side; his Bow was in his Hand; five dark grey Dogs attended his Steps. He saw fierce Earcb on the Shore; he seized and bound him to an Oak. Thick fly the L 2 Thongs Thongs of the Hide around his Limbs j he loads the Wind with his Groans.
ArirJel ascends the surgy Deep in his Boat, to bring Daura to the Land. Armor came in his Wrath, and let fly the grey-feathered Shaft. It fung; it funk in thy Heart, O Arindel my Son! for Earch the Traitor thou diedst. The Oar is stopped at once; he panted on the Rock and expired. What is thy Grief, O Daura, when round thy Feet » poured thy Brother's Blood f
The Boat is broken in twain by the Waves. Ar~ mar plunges into the Sea, to rescue his Daura or die. Sudden a Blast from the Hill comes over the Waves. He funk, and he rose no more.
Alone, on the sea-beat Rock, my Daughter was heard to complain. Frequent and loud were her Cries j nor could her Father relieve her. All Night J. stood on the Shore. I saw her by the faint Beam of the Moon. All Night I heard her Cries. Loud was the Wind; and the Rain beat hard on the Side of the Mountain. Before Morning appeared, her Voice was weak. It died away, like the EveningBreeze among the Grafs of the Rocks. Spent with Grief she expired. And left thee Armyn alone: Gone is my Strength in the War, and fallen my Pride a-mong Women.
When the Storms of the Mountain come; when the North lifts the Waves on high; I sit by the sounding mg Shore, and look on the fatal Rock. Often by the setting Moon I see the Ghosts of my Children. Half-viewlefs, they walk in mournful Conference together. Will none of you speak in Pity? They do not regard their Father.
R Y N O.
THE Wind and the Rain are over: Calm is the Noon of Day. The Clouds are divided in Heaven. Over the green Hills flies the inconstant Sun. Red through the stony Vale comes down tha Stream of the Hill. Sweet are thy Murmurs, O Stream! but more sweet is the Voice I hear. It is the Voice of Alpin the Son of the Song, mourning for the Dead. Bent is his Head of Age, and red his tearful Eye. Alpin, thou Son of the Song, why alone on the silent Hill f Why complainest thou, as a Blast in the Wood j as a Wave on the lonely Shore?
My Tears, O Rjno! are for the Dead; my Voice for the Inhabitants of the Grave. Tall thou art on the Hill j fair among the Sons of the Plain. But thou shalt fall like Morar j and the Mourner shall sit on thy Tomb. The Hills shall know thee no more; thy Bow shall lie in the Hall unstrung.
L 3 Thou
Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a Roe on the Hill; terrible as a Meteor of Fire. Thy Wrath was as the Storm of December. Thy Sword in Battle, as Lightning in the Field. Thy Voice was like a Stream after Rain; like Thunder on distant Hills. Many fell by thy Arm; they were consumed in the Flames of thy Wrath.
But when thou returnedst from War, how peacefull was thy Brow! Thy Face was like the Sun after rain; like the Moon in the Silence of Night; calm as the Breast of the Lake when the loud Wind is laid.
Narrow is thy Dwelling now; dark the Place of thine Abode. With three Steps I compass thy Grave, O thou who wast so great before! Four Stones with their Heads of Moss are the only Memorial of thee. A Tree with scarce a Leaf, long Grass which whistles in the Wind, mark to the Hunter's Eye the Grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no Mother to mourn thee; no Maid with her Tears of Love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the Daughter of Marglan.
Who on his Staff is this? Who is this, whose Head is white with Age, whose Eyes are red with Tears, who quakes at every Step ?—It is thy Father, O Morar! the Father of none but thee. He heard of thy Fame in Battle; he heard of Foes dispersed. He heard of Morar's Fame; why did he not hear
* of of his Wound 1 Weep, thou Father of Morar \ weep; but thy Son heareth thee not. Deep is the Sleep of the Dead; low their Pillow of Dust. No more shall he hear thy Voice; no more shall he awake at thy Call. When shall it be Morn in the Grave, to bid the Slumberer awake?
Farewell, thou bravest of Men! thou Conqueror in the Field! but the Field shall see thee no more; nor the dark Wood be lightened with the Splendor pf thy Steel. Thou hast left no Son. But the Song shall preserve thy Name. Future Times shall hear of thee j they shall hear of the fallen Morar.
EAIS E high the Stones j collect the Earth: Preserve the Name of Fear-comhraic. Blow Winds, all your Hills; Sigh on the Grave of Mulrnin.
The dark Rock hangs, with all its Wood, above the calm Dwelling of the Heroes.
The Sea with its foam-headed Billows murmurs at their Side.
Why sigh the Woods, why roar the Waves J They have no cause to mourn.
But thou hast Cause, O Diorma! thou Maid of the Breast of Snow! Spread thou thy Hair to the Wind j send thy Sighs on the Blasts of the Hills.