They vanished like two Beams of Light, which fly from the Heath in a Storm: They funk like two Stars in a Cloud when the Winds of the North arife.

For Thee weep the Maids, Fear-combraic, along the echoing Hills. For Thee the Women weep, O Muirnin; Chief of the Wars of Erin. I fee not Fear-combraic on the Hill; I fee not Muirnin in the Storms of Ocean. Raife, raise the Song, relate the Tale. Defcend ye Tears of other Times.

Diorma was the Daughter of Connaid the Chief of a thoufand Shields.

Diorma was among the Maids, as the white Flower among the Heath.

Her Breaft was like a white Cloud in Heaven. Her Bofom like the Top of a Wave in a Storm. Her Hair was like Smoke in the Sun: Her Eye like the Star of Morn. Not fairer looks the Moon from between two Clouds, than the Face of Diorma from between her Locks.

A thoufand Heroes loved the Maid; the Maid loved none but Fear-combraic. He loved the Maid, and well he might; fair among Women was the Daughter of Connaid. She was the Light of his Soul in Danger; the Strength of his Arm in Battle.

Who fhall deny me the Maid, faid Fear-comhraic, who, the fairest of Women, Diorma! Hard muft

be

be his Helm of Steel, and ftrong his Shield of Iron.

I deny her, faid Muirnin Son of the Chief of generous Shells. My Sword is keen, my Spear is Strong; the Valiant yield to Muirnin.

Come then, thou Son of Cormac, O mighty Muirnin, come! leave the Hills of Erin, come on the foamy Wave. Let thy Ship, like a Cloud, come over the Storms of Ocean.

He came along the Sea: His Sails were like grey Mift on the Heath: Long was his Spear of Afh;: his Shield like the Bloody Moon.-Aodan Son of Armclach came; the Youth of the gloomy Brow.

Rife, Fear-comhraic, rife thou Love of the foft Diorma! Fight, or yield the Maid, Son of the great Combfeadan!

He rofe like a Cloud on the Hill, when the Winds of Autumn blow.

Tall art thou, faid Fear-combraic, Son of mighty Cormac; fair are thy Cheeks of Youth, and ftrong thy Arm of War. Prepare the Feaft, and flay the Deer; fend round the Shell of Joy: Three Days we feaft together; we fight on the fourth, Son of Cormac.

Why should I fheath my Sword, Son of the noble Combfeadan? Yield to me, Son of Battle, and raise Fame in Erin.

my

Raife

Raife thou my Tomb, O Muirnin! If Fearcombraic fall by thy Steel, place my bright Sword by my Side, in the Tomb of the lonely Hill.

We fight by the Noife of the Stream, Muirnin! wield thy Steel.

Swords found on Helmets, found on Shields; Brafs clafhes, clatters, rings. Sparkles buzz; Shivers fly; Death bounds from Mail to Mail. As leaps a Stone from Rock to Rock, fo Blow fucceeds to Blow. Their Eyes dart Fire; their Noftrils blow: They leap, they thruft, they wound.

Slowly, flowly falls the Blade of Muirnin, Son of War. He finks, his Armour rings, he cries, I die, Fear-combraic, I die.

And falls the braveft of Men the Chief of Innisfballin! Stretch wide the Sail; afcend the Wave, and bring the Youth to Erin.

Deep on the Hills of Erin is the Sigh of Maids. For thee, my Foe, I mourn: Thou art the Grief of Fear-comhraic.

Rife, ye Winds of the founding Hill; figh over the Fall of Muirnin! Weep, Diorma, for the Hero; weep, Maid of the Arms of Snow; appear like the Sun in Rain; move in Tears along the Shore !

Aodan faw the Fall of Muirnin, and drew the founding Bow: The grey-winged Arrow flew, and pierced

Pierced the Breaft of Fear-combraic. Aodan, faid Fear combraic, where was the Sword of War? Where was the Spear of thy Strength, when thus thou haft flain Fear-combraic? Raife, gloomy Youth, raise thou our Tombs! I will reft with the Chief of Innisfhallin.

Who is that on the Hill like a Sun-beam in a Storm? Who is that with the heaving Breafts, which are like two Wreaths of Snow? Thy blue Eyes roll in Tears, thou Daughter of mighty Connaid! Thy Hair flies round thy Temples, as the Mift on the Rocks of Ardven. Thy Robe flows on the Heath, Daughter of Grief, Diorma! He is fallen on the Hill like a Stream of Light in a Cloud. No more fhall he hear thy Voice like the Sound of the String of Mufic. The Strength of the War is gone; the Cheek of Youth is pale.

FRAGMENT XIV *.

YUCHULAID fat by the Wall; by the Tree of the ruffling Leaf t. His Spear leaned against the mofly Rock. His Shield lay by him on the Grafs. Whilft he thought on the mighty Carbre whom he flew in Battle, the Scout of the Ocean came, Moran the Son of Fithil.

*This is the Opening of the Epic Poem mentioned in the Preface, The two following Fragments are Parts of fome Episodes of the fame Work.

†The Afpen or Poplar Tree.

Rife,

Rife, Cuchulaid, rife! I fee the Ships of Garve. Many are the Foe, Cuchulaid; many the Sons of Lochlyn

Moran! thou ever trembleft; thy Fears increase the Foe. They are the Ships of the Defert of Hills arrived to affift Cuchulaid.

I faw their Chief, fays Moran, tall as a Rock of Ice. His Spear is like that Fir; his Shield like the rifing Moon. He fat upon a Rock on the Shore, as a grey Cloud upon the Hill. Many, mighty Man! I said, many are our Heroes; Garve, well art thou named [t], many are the Sons of our King.

He answered like a Wave on the Rock; who is like me here? The Valiant live not with me; they go to the Earth from my Hand. The King of the Desert of Hills alone can fight with Garve. Once we wrestled on the Hill. Our Heels overturned the Wood. Rocks fell from their Place, and Rivulets changed their Courfe. Three Days we ftrove together; Heroes flood at a Distance, and feared. On the fourth, the King faith that I fell; but Garve faith, he stood. Let Cuchulaid yield to him that is ftrong as a Storm.

No. I will never yield to Man. Cuchulaid will conquer or die. Go, Moran, take my Spear;

[] Garve fighifies a Man of great fize,