rhapsodies, however fpirited, pathetic, or fublime, of Celtic Bards, or Scandinavian Scalders.

With regard to the merit of the prefent compofitions, and particularly of Temora, we have read them with the fame fenfations of pleafure and difguft, as we experienced in the perufal of Offian's former pieces. They abound nearly with the fame ftrength of imagery and boldness of metaphor; there is the fame repetition of epithets, and barrennefs of invention;the fame fublimity, and the fame meannefs.

The poem of Temora, we are told, took its name from the royal palace of the fift Irifh Kings of the Caledonian race, in the province of Ulfter; its action being founded on the confequences of a revolution which happened from the murder of one. of thofe Princes, by Cairbar, the fon of Boibar-duthul, Lord of Atha in Connaught, who being the most potent Chief of the. race of the Firbolg, and having murdered, at Temora, the royal palace, Cormac the fon of Artho, the young King of Ireland, ufurped the throne. Cormac was lineally defcended from Conar the fon of Trenmor, the great-grandfather of Fingal, King of thofe Caledonians who inhabited the western coaft of Scotland. Fingal refented the behaviour of Cairbar, and refolved to pafs over into Ireland with an army, to re-eftablish the royal family! on the Irish throne. Early intelligence of his defigns coming to Cairbar, he affembled fome of his tribes in Ulfter, and at the fame time ordered his brother Cathmor to follow him fpeedily' with an army, from Temora. Such was the fituation of affairs when the Caledonian fleet appeared on the coaft of Ulfter, the poem opening with the landing of Fingal, and reciting the actions fucceeding it. It would afford our Readers, however, but little entertainment, barely to relate the incidents of which the eight books of this poem are compofed; we fhall content ourfelves, therefore, with the relation of a few paffages, from which the admirers of Fingal may fee that Temora bears all the marks of being the genuine production of the fame Genius.

There is fomething pathetic and noble in the relation of. Qfcar's death, and the behaviour of his father and friend, on that occafion, in the first book.

"We faw Ofcar on his fhield.

Silence darkened every face.

We faw his blood around. Each turned his back and wept.

The King ftrove to hide his tears. His grey beard whistled in the wind. He bends his head, above his fon. His words are mixed with fighs.

"And art thou fallen, Ofcar, in the midst of thy courfe? The heart of the aged beats over thee! He Yees thy coming

wars.

wars. The wars which ought to come he beholds, but they are cut off from thy fame. When fhall joy dwell at Selma? When shall grief depart from Morven? My Sons fall by degrees Fingal fhall be the laft of his race. The fame which I have received shall pass away: my age will be without friends. I fhall fit a grey cloud in my hall: nor fhall I hear the return of a Son in the midst of his founding arms. Weep, ye heroes of Morven! never more fhall Ofcar rife!

"And they did weep, O Fingal; dear was the hero to their fouls. He went out to battle, and the foes vanished; he returned, in peace, amidft their joy. No father mourned his fon flain in youth; no brother his brother of love. They fell, without tears, for the chief of the people was low! Bran is howling at his feet: gloomy Luath is fad, for he hath often led them to the chace; to the bounding roe of the desart.

"When Ofcar faw his friends around, his white breast rofe with fighs.-The groans, he faid, of aged chiefs; the howling of my dogs; the fudden burfts of the fongs of grief, have melted Ofcar's foul. My foul that never melted before; it was like the steel of my fword.-Offian carry me to my hills! Raise the ftones of my renown. Place the horn of my deer, and my fword within my narrow dwelling.The torrent hereafter may raise the earth: the hunter may find the steel and fay, "This has been Ofcar's sword."

"And falleft thou, fon of my fame! and fhall I never fee thee, Ofcar! When others hear of their Sons, I fhall not hear of thee. The mofs is on thy four grey ftones; the mournful wind is there. The battle fhall be fought without him: he fhall not pursue the dark brown hinds. When the warrior returns from battles, and tells of other lands; I have feen a tomb he will fay, by the roaring ftream, the dark dwelling of a chief. He fell by car-borne Ofcar, the first of mortal men.-I, perpaps, fhall hear his voice; and a beam of joy fhall rife in my foul.

.

"The night would have defcended in forrow, and morning returned in the fhadow of grief: our chief would have stood like cold dropping rocks on Moi-lena, and have forgot the war, did not the king disperse his grief, and raise his mighty voice. The chiefs, as new-wakened from dreams, lift up their heads around.

"How long on Moi-lena fhall we weep; or pour our tears in Ulin? The mighty will not return. Ofcar fhall not rife in his ftrength. The valiant muft fall one day, and be no more known on his hills. Where are our fathers, O warriors? the

chiefs

But they were Thus fhall Then let us be

chiefs of the times of old? They have fet like ftars that have fhone, we only hear the found of their praife. renowned in their day, the terror of other times. we pafs, O warriors, in the day of our fall. renowned when we may; and leave our fame behind us, like the laft beams of the fun when he hides his red head in the west.

"Ullin, my aged bard, take the fhip of the King. Carry Ofcar to Selma of harps. Let the daughters of Morven weep. We fhall fight in Erin for the race of fallen Cormac. The days of my years begin to fail: I feel the weakness of my arm. My fathers bend from their clouds, to receive their grey-haired fon. But, before I go hence, one beam of fame fhall rife: fo fhall my days end, as my years begun, in fame: my life shall be one ftream of light to bards of other times."

Book the fecond begins with an invocation to the ghoft of Trenmor, the first king of Ireland, of whom Cormac, the murdered prince (to revenge whofe death Fingal invades that kingdom) was lineally defcended. This is an admirable exor

dium!

"Father of heroes, Trenmor! dweller of eddying winds! where the dark-red course of thunder marks the troubled clouds! open thou thy ftormy halls, and let the bards of old be near: let them draw near, with their fongs and their half viewless harps. No dweller of mifty valley comes: no hunter unknown at his ftreams; but the car-borne Ofcar from the folds of war. Sudden is thy change, my Son, from what thou wert on dark Moi-lena! The blaft folds thee in its fkirt, and ruftles through the fky. Doft thou not behold thy father, at the ftream of night? The chiefs of Morven fleep far diftant. They have loft no Son. But ye have loft a Hero, Chiefs of ftreamy Morven !"

The behaviour and attitudes of the heroes, when addreffedby Fingal in the beginning of the third book, are remarkably beautiful and characteristical.

"The Chiefs bend towards their King: each darkly feems to claim the war. They tell, by halves, their mighty deeds and turn their eyes on Erin. But far above the reft the son of

Morni ftood; filent he ftood, for who had not heard of the battles of Gaul? They rofe within his foul. His hand, in fecret, feized the fword. The fword which he brought from Strumon, when the ftrength of Morni failed.

" On

"On his fpear flood the Son of Clatho, in the wandering of his locks. Thrice 'he raifed his eyes to Fingal: his voice thrice failed him as he fpoke.-Fillan could not boaft of battles: at once he ftrode away. Bent over a distant stream he ftood: the tear hung in his eye. with his inverted fpear."

He ftruck, at times, the thistle's head,

The fame Fillan however is afterwards reprefented, if not in more natural, at leaft, in more heroic attitudes; this gallant youth after repeated inftances of his valour putting the whole army of the Firbolg to flight.

"I faw, along Moi-lena, the wild tumbling of battle, the ftrife of death, in gleamy rows, disjoined and broken round. Fillan is a beam of fire; from wing to wing is his wasteful courfe. The ridges of war melt before him. They are rolled, in fmoak, from the fields.Wide-fpreading over ecchoing Lubar, the flight of Bolga is rolled along. Fillan hung forward on their steps; and ftrewed with dead, the heath."

" In the beginning of the last book, we have a beautiful picture of the host of Morven, and the appearance of Fingal with his forces.

"As when the wintry winds have seized the waves of the mountain-lake, have seized them, in stormy night, and cloathed them over with ice; white, to the hunter's early eye, the billows ftill feem to roll. He turns his ear to the found of each unequal ridge. But each is filent, gleaming, ftrewn with boughs and tufts of grafs, which shake and whistle to the wind, over their grey feats of froft.-So filent fhone to the morning the ridges of Morven's hoft, as each warrior looked up from his helmet towards the hill of the king; the cloud-covered hill of Fingal, where he ftrode, in the folds of mift. At times is the hero feen, greatly dim in all his arms. From thought to thought rolled along his mighty foul.-Now is the coming forth of the King.-Firft appeared the fword of Luno; the fpear half iffuing from a cloud, the fhield ftill dim in mift. But when the ftride of the King came abroad, with all his grey, dewy locks in the wind; then rofe the fhouts of his hoft over every moving tribe. They gathered, gleaming, round, with all their ecchoing fhields. So rife the green feas round a fpirit, that comes down from the fqually wind. The traveller hears the found afar, and lifts his head over the rock. He looks on the troubled bay, and thinks he dimly fees the form. The waves fport, unwieldy, round, with all their backs of foam."

The

The ending of this book, and with it that of the poem, is peculiarly placid and beautiful.

"Sons of Morven, fpread the feaft; fend the night away in fong. Ye have fhone around me, and the dark ftorm is paft. My people are the windy rocks, from which I spread my eaglewings, when I rufh forth to renown, and feize it on its field. -Offian, thou haft the fpear of Fingal: it is not the staff of a boy with which he ftrews the thiítle round, young wanderer of the field. No: it is the lance of the mighty, with which they ftretch'd forth their hands to death. Look to thy fathers, my Son; they are awful beams.-With morning lead Ferad-artho forth to the ecchoing halls of Temora. Remind him of the Kings of Erin; the ftately forms of old.-Let not the fallen be forgot, they were mighty in the field. Let Carril pour his fong, that the kings may rejoice in their mift.--To-morrow I spread my fails to Selma's fhaded walls; where ftreamy Duthula winds through the feats of rocs."

These specimens will convince our Readers, that Temora is not wanting in that poetical imagery and fublimity of ftyle,. which fo eminently diftinguifhed Fingal. We cannot clofe this article, however, without obferving, that as the answers Mr. McPherson hath made to fome objections, thrown out by us on a former occafion, are fupported only by mere affirmation, we think it unneceffary to enter into any juflification of our former opinion.

Five Pieces of Runic Poetry, tranflated from the Iflandic Language. 8vo. Is. 6d. Dodfley.

HE great fuccefs of Mr. Macpherson's verfion of the Erfe fragments, having confefledly given rife to the prefent tranflation from the Iflandic, the Editor very ingenuously acknowleges it is by no means for the intereft of this little work, to have it brought into comparifon with thofe beautiful pieces; after which it must appear to the greatest difadvantage. In this, indeed, we are perfectly of his cpinion, and fhould be fo, were the merit of the prefent performance much greater than it is. The Erfe fragments had, befides the advantages they might derive from the Tranflator, the great merit of novelty to recommend them; whereas every poem here produced hath been already publifhed, accompanied with a Latin or Swedish verfion: a cir cumftance which not only takes from the novelty of the work, REV. April, 1763.

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