my age fhall be without friends. I fhall fit like a grey cloud in my hall: nor fhall I expect the return of a fon with his founding arms. Weep, ye heroes of "Morven; never more will. Ofcar rife (g)." Crothar fpeaks: Son of Fingal! doft thou not behold the darkness of Crothar's hall of thells? My foul was not "dark at the feaft, when my people lived. I rejoiced in the presence of strangers, when my fon fhone in the hall. But, Offian, he is a beam that is departed, and left no ftreak of light behind. He is fallen, fon of Fingal, in the battles of his father. Rothmar, "the chief of graffy Tromlo, heard, that my eyes had failed; he heard, that my arms were fixed in the hall, " and the pride of his foul arofe. He came toward Croma; my people fell before him. I took my arms. "in the hall; but what could fightlefs Crothar do? My fteps were unequal, my grief was great. I wished for "the days that were paft, days wherein I fought and "won in the field of blood. My fon returned from. "the chace, the fair hair'd Fovar-gormo. He had not

lifted his fword in battle, for his arm was young. But "the foul of the youth was great; the fire of valour. "burnt in his eyes. He faw the difordered steps of his. "father, and his figh arofe. King of Croma, he faid, is it because thou haft no fon; is it for the weakness of Foyar-gormo's arm that thy fighs arife? I begin, my father, to feel the ftrength of my arm; I have drawn the fword of my youth; and I have bent the bow. Let me meet this Rothmar with the youths of Croma: let me meet him, O my father; for I feel my burning foul: and thou fhalt meet him, I faid, fon of the fightlefs Crothar! But let others advance be"fore thee, that I may hear the tread of thy feet at thy, return; for my eyes behold thee not, fair-hair'd Fovar"gormo! He went, he met the foe, he fell. The "foe advances toward Croma. He who flew my fon is "near, with all his pointed fpears (b)."

(g) Temora.

(b) Croma

The following fentiments, about the fhortnefs of human life, are pathetic: "Defolate is the dwelling of "Moina, filence in the house of her fathers. Raife the

fong of mourning over the ftrangers. One day we “ must fall; and they have oply fallen before us. "Why doft thou build the hall, fon of the winged days! "Thou lookeft from thy towers to-day: foon will the « blast of the defert come. It howls in thy empty court, "and whistles over thy half-worn fhield (i)." How "long shall we weep on Lena, or pour our tears in Ul

lin! The mighty will not return; nor Ofcar rife in "his ftrength: the valiant muft fall one day, and be "no more known. Where are our fathers, O. warriors, "the chiefs of the times of old! They are fet, like stars "that have fhone: we only hear the found of their "praife. But they were renowned in their day, and "the terror of other times. Thus fhall we pass, O warriors, in the day of our fall. Then let us be re"nowned while we may; and leave our fame behind us, "like the laft beams of the fun, when he hides his red "head in the weft (k)."

"

In Homer's time heroes were greedy of plunder, and like robbers, were much difpofed to infult a vanquished foe. According to Offian, the ancient Caledonians had no idea of plunder: and, as they fought for fame only, their humanity overflowed to the vanquished. American favages, it is true, are not addicted to plunder, and are ready to bestow on the first comer what trifles they may force from the enemy. But they had no notion of pitched battle, nor of fingle combat: on the contrary, they value themselves upon flaughtering their enemies by furprife, without rifking their own fweet perfons. Agreeable to the magnanimous character given by Offian of his countrymen, we find humanity blended with courage in all their actions. " Fingal pitied the white-armed "maid he stayed the uplifted fword. The tear was in the eye of the King, as bending forward he fpoke:

(i) Carthon.

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King of treamy Sora, fear not the fword of Fingal: "it was never stained with the blood of the vanquished; "it never pierced a fallen foe. Let thy people rejoice along the blue waters of Tora: let the maids of thy love be glad. Why fhould't thou fall in thy youth, King of ftreamy Sora ()!" Fingal fpeaks: Son "of my strength, he faid, take the fpea of Fingal: go to Teutha's mighty ftream, and fave the car-borne Colmar. Let thy fame retern before thee like a pleafant gales that my foul may rejoice over my son, "who renews the renown of our fathers. Offan! be "thou a ftorm in battle, but mild where thy foes are "low. It was thus my fame arofe, O my fon; and be "thou like Selma's chief. When the haughty come to my hall, my eyes behold them not; but my arm is "ftretched forth to the unhappy, my fword defends the "weak (m)." O Ofcar! bend the ftrong in arm, but fpare the feeble hand. Be thou a ftream of many tides against the foes of thy people, but like the gale "that moves the grafs to thofe who afk thy aid. Never "fearch for the battle, nor fhun it when it comes. So "Trenmor lived; fuch Trathal was; and fuch has Fingal been. My arm was the fupport of the injured; and the weak refted behind the lightning of ¢ my fteel (n)."

Humanity to the vanquished is difplayed in the following paffages. After defeating in battle Swaran, King of Lochlin, Fingal fays, "Raife, Ullin, raife the fong "of peace, and foothe my foul after battle, that my ear may forget the noise of arms. And let an hundred harps be near, to gladden the King of Lochlin: he muft depart from us with joy; none ever went fad from Fingal. Ofcar, the lightning of my fword is against the strong; but peaceful it hangs by my fide "when warriors yield in battle (o)." "Uthal fell beneath my fword, and the fons of Berrathon fled. It

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was then I faw him in his beauty, and the tear hung "in my eye. Thou art fallen, young tree, I faid, with "all thy budding beauties round thee. The winds come "from the defert, and there is no found in thy leaves. "Lovely art thou in death, fon of car-borne Lathmor (p)."

After the scenes above exhibited, it will not be thought that Offian deviates from the manners reprefented by him, in defcribing the hospitality of his chieftains: "We heard "the voice of joy on the coaft, and we thought that the mighty Cathmor came; Cathmor the friend of stran 66 gers, the brother of red-hair'd Cairbar. But their "fouls were not the fame; for the light of heaven was "in the bofom of Cathmor. His towers rofe on the "banks of Atha: feven paths led to his hall: feven chiefs "flood on thefe paths, and called the ftranger to the "feaft. But Cathmor dwelt in the wood, to avoid the "voice of praise (q).” "Rathmor was a chief of Clu"tha. The feeble dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rath

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mor were never clofed: his feaft was always fpread. "The fons of the ftranger came, and bleffed the gener "ous chief of Clutha. Bards raised the song, and touch"ed the harp; joy brightened on the face of the mourn "ful. Dunthalmo came in his pride, and rushed into "combat with Rathmor. The chief of Clutha overcame. "The rage of Dunthalmo rose: he came by night with "his warriors; and the mighty Rathmor fell: he fell in "his hall, where his feaft had been often fpread for ftrangers ()." It feems not to exceed the magnanimity of his chieftains, intent upon glory only, to feaft even their enemies before a battle. Cuchullin, after the first day's engagement with Swaran, King of Lochlin or Scandinavia, fays to Carril, one of his bards, "Is this "feaft fpread for me alone, and the King of Lochlin on "Ullin's fhore; far from the deer of his hills and found

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ing halls of his feafts? Rife, Carril of other times and "carry my words to Swaran; tell him from the roaring (p) Berrathon.

(r) Calthon and Colmal.

"of waters, that Cuchullin gives his féaft. Here let "him liften to the found of my groves amid the clouds "of night: for cold and bleak the blustering winds rush over the foam of his feas. Here let him praise the "trembling harp, and hear the fongs of heroes (s)."

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The Scandinavian King, less polished, refused the invitation. Cairbar speaks: Spread the feaft on Lena, "and let my hundred bards attend. And thou, red"hair'd Olla, take the harp of the King. Go to Oscar, "King of Swords, and bid him to our feast, To day we feaft and hear the fong; to-morrow break the Spears ()." "Olla came with his fongs. Ofcar "went to Cairbar's feaft. Three hundred heroes at"tend the chief, and the clang of their arms is terrible. "The gray dogs bound on the heath, and their howling, "is frequent. Fingal faw the departure of the hero: "the foul of the King was fad. He dreads the gloomy Cairbar: but who of the race of Trenmor fears the foe (u)?"

Cruelty is every where condemned as an infamous vice. Speaking of the Bards, "Cairbar feared to ftretch his. "fword to the bards, though his foul was dark; but he "clofed us in the midst of darkness. Three days we

But

pined alone: on the fourth, the noble Cathmor came. "He heard our voice from the cave, and turned the eye of his wrath on Cairbar. Chief of Atha, he said, how "long wilt thou pain my foul? Thy heart is like the "rock of the defert, and thy thoughts are dark. "thou art the brother of Cathmor, and he will fight thy "battles. Cathmor's foul is not like thine, thou feeble "hand of war. The light of my bofom is stained with thy deeds. The bards will not fing of my renown; "they may fay, Cathmor was brave, but he fought for "gloomy Cairbar: they will pafs over my tomb in fi"lence, and my fame shall not be heard. Cairbar, loose

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the bards; they are the fons of other times; their "voice fhall be heard in other ages, when the Kings of

(s) Fingal, book 1.

(t) Temora.
(x) Temora,