"Selma is opened wide. Bards take the trembling harps. Ten youths bear the oak of the feast. A distant sun-beam marks the hill. The dusky waves of the blast fly over the fields of grass. Why art thou silent, O Selma? The king returns with all his fame. Did not the battle roar; yet peaceful is his brow? It roared, and Fingal overcame. Be like thy father, O Fillan!" 10 They move beneath the song. High wave their arms, as rushy fields beneath autumnal winds 1o. On Mora stands the king in arms. Mist flies round his buckler abroad; as, aloft, it hung on 10 Calm and serene he drives the furious blast, High wave their arms, as rushy fields beneath autumnal winds.] And in the preceding paragraph, "The dusky waves of the blast fly over the fields of grass." From POPE's Iliad, ii, 179. And as on corn, when western gusts descend, Before the blast the lofty harvests bend; With nodding plumes, and groves of waving spears, But the "waves of the blast," is a harsh figure; and in Gaul's invocation of Morni, (supra, 2.) "The shadowy breeze pours its dark wave over the grass," is from THOMSON'S Autumn. For not a gale Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain. a bough, on Cormul's mossy rock. In silence I stood by Fingal, and turned my eyes on Cromla's wood: lest I should behold the host, and rush amid my swelling soul. My foot is forward on the heath. I glittered, tall, in steel; like the falling stream of Tromlo, which nightly winds bind over with ice. The boy sees it, on high, gleaming to the early beam" toward it he turns his ear, and wonders why it is so silent ! Nor bent over a stream is Cathmor, like a youth in a peaceful field. Wide he drew forward the war, a dark and troubled wave. But when he beheld Fingal on Mora, his generous pride arose ; "Shall the chief of Atha fight, and no king in the field? Foldath, lead my people forth. Thou art a beam of fire." Forth issues Foldath of Moma, like a cloud, 11 Like the falling stream of Tromlo. The boy sees it, on high, gleaming to the early beam.] THOMSON's Winter. Supra, ii. ". Then appears The various labours of the silent night Wide spouted o'er the hill, the frozen brook, A livid track, cold-gleaming on the morn. "Towards it he turns his ear, and wonders why it is so silent.” An intended improvement upon Thomson's dumb cascade, as will afterwards appear. Infra, viii. '. the robe of ghosts. He drew his sword, a flame, from his side. He bade the battle move. The tribes, like ridgy waves, dark pour their strength around. Haughty is his stride before them. His red eye rolls in wrath. He calls Cormul chief of Dunratho; and his words were heard. "Cormul, thou beholdest that path. It winds green behind the foe. Place thy people there, lest Selma should escape from my sword. Bards of green-vallied Erin, let no voice of yours arise. The sons of Morven must fall without song. They are the foes of Cairbar. Hereafter shall the traveller meet their dark thick mist on Lena, where it wanders, with their ghosts, beside the reedy lake. Never shall they rise, without song, to the dwelling of winds." Behind him Cormul darkened, as he went. rushed his tribe. They sunk beyond the rock. Gaul spoke to Fillan of Selma; as his eye pursued the course of the dark-eyed chief of Dunratho. "Thou beholdest the steps of Cormul! Let thine arm be strong! When he is low, son of Fingal, remember Gaul in war. Here I fall forward into battle, amid the ridge of shields "." 12 Amid the ridge of shields.] "The tribes like ridgy waves." The sign of death ascends; the dreadful sound of Morni's shield. Gaul pours his voice between. Fingal rises on Mora. He saw them, from wing to wing, bending at once in strife. Gleaming, on his own dark hill, stood Cathmor of streamy Atha. The kings were like two spirits of heaven, standing each on his gloomy cloud; when they pour abroad the winds, and lift the roaring The blue-tumbling of waves is before them, marked with the paths of whales. They themselves are calm and bright 13. The gale lifts slowly their locks of mist! seas. What beam of light hangs high on air! What Supra. "The people behind, like a ridge of fire." Highlander, ii. 78. With darting gleam the steel-clad ridges shine The moving troops: the hostile ridges frowned. From "the ridges of grim war," in MILTON, Par. Lost, vi. 236. Our translator converts the waving corn into heath, or grass, or rushy fields; but forgets, that the ridges of grim war is a metaphor taken, not from a mountain, but from a ploughed field. 13 They themselves are calm and bright.] Repeated from AD DISON'S Campaign, supra, 9. Calm and serene he drives the furious blast. See Fingal, iii. 22. beam, but Morni's dreadful sword! Death is strewed on thy paths, O Gaul! Thou foldest them together in thy rage 1. Like a young oak falls Tur-lathon, with his branches round him "5. His high-bosomed spouse stretches her white arms, in dreams, to the returning chief, as she sleeps by gurgling Moruth, in her disordered locks. It is his ghost, Oichoma. The chief is lowly laid. Hearken not to the winds for Turlathon's echoing shield. It is pierced by his streams. Its sound is past away. Not peaceful is the hand of Foldath. He winds his course in blood. Connal met him in fight. They mixed their clanging steel. Why should mine eyes behold them! Connal, thy locks are grey! Thou wert the friend of strangers, at the moss-covered rock of Dun-lora. When the skies were rolled together; then thy feast was spread. The stranger heard the winds without; and re 14 Death is strewed in thy paths. Thou foldest them together in thy rage.] Earl Marishal's Welcome. His path with oaks is strewed, And ruin marks the plain. 15 Like a young oak falls Tur-lathon, with his branches round him.] POPE's Iliad, xvii. 57. As the young olive in some sylvan scene, &c. VOL. II. G |