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Connal-The Ghost of Crugal-The Battle-Flight of
Grumal-The Fleet of Fingal-Cuchullin's
Depression-The Story of Con-
nal and Galvina.

CONNAL lay by the sound of the mountain stream, beneath the aged tree. A stone, with its moss, supported his head. Shrill through the heath of Lena, he heard the voice of night. At distance from the heroes he lay, for the son of the sword feared no foe.

My hero saw in his rest a dark-red stream of fire coming down from the hill. Crugal sat upon the beam, a chief that lately fell. He fell by the hand of Swaran, striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting moon; his robes are of the clouds of the hill; his eyes are like two decaying flames. Dark is the wound of his breast.

"Crugal," said the mighty Connal, "son of Dedgal famed on the hill of the deer, why so pale and sad, thou breaker of the shields? Thou hast never been pale for fear. What disturbs the son of the hill?"

Dim, and in tears, he stood and stretched his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he raised his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego.

"My ghost, O Connal, is on my native hills; but my corse is on the sands of Ullin. Thou shalt never talk with Crugal, or

find his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla, and I move like the shadow of mist. Connal, son of Colgar, I see the dark cloud of death: it hovers over the plains The sons of green Erin shall fall. Remove from the Like the darkened moon he retired, in the midst of the whistling blast.

of Lena.
field of ghosts."

"Stay," said the mighty Connal, "stay my dark red friend. Lay by that beam of heaven, son of the windy Cromla. What cave of the hill is thy lonely house? What green-headed hill is the place of thy rest? Shall we not hear thee in the storm? In the noise of the mountain stream? When the feeble sons of the wind come forth, and ride on the blast of the desert?"

The soft-voiced Connal rose in the midst of his sounding arms. He struck his shield above Cuchullin. The son of battle waked.

"Why," said the ruler of the car, "comes Connal through the night? My spear might turn against the sound, and Cuchullin mourn the death of his friend. Speak, Connal, son of Colgar, speak, thy counsel is like the son of heaven."

"Son of Semo," replied the chief, "the ghost of Crugal came from the cave of his hill. The stars dim-twinkled through his form, and his voice was like the sound of a distant stream. He is a messenger of death. He speaks of the dark and narrow Sue for peace, O chief of Dunscaich, or fly over the

house.

heath of Lena."

"He spoke to Connal," replied the hero, "though stars dimtwinkled through his form. Son of Colgar, it was the wind that murmured in the caves of Lena. Or if it was the form of Crugal, why didst thou not force him to my sight. Hast thou inquired where is his cave? The house of the son of the wind? My sword might find that voice, and force his knowledge from him. And small is his knowledge, Connal, for he was here today. He could not have gone beyond our hills, and who could tell him there of our death?"

1 The poet teaches us the opinions that prevailed in his time concerning the state of separate souls. From Connal's expression, "That the stars dimtwinkled through the form of Crugal," and Cuchullin's reply, we may gather that they both thought the soul was material—something like the dwλov of the ancient Greeks.

"Ghosts fly on clouds and ride on winds," said Connal's "They rest together in their caves, and talk

voice of wisdom.

of mortal men.”

"Then let them talk of mortal men; of every man but Erin's chief. Let me be forgot in their cave; for I will not fly from Swaran. If I must fall, my tomb shall rise amidst the fame of future times. The hunter shall shed a tear on my stone, and sorrow dwell round the high-bosomed Bragéla. I fear not death, but I fear to fly, for Fingal saw me often victorious. Thou dim phantom of the hill, show thyself to me! come on thy beam of heaven, and show me my death in thine hand; yet will I not fly, thou feeble son of the wind.

"The boding threats of feeble ghosts above
Shall not Cuchullin from his purpose move
Who is determined, blame it as they may,
Still to oppose the monarch of the sea."
-CAMERON'S OSSIAN.

Go, son of Colgar, strike the shield of Caithbat, it hangs between the spears. Let my heroes rise to the sound in the midst of the battles of Erin. Though Fingal delays his coming with the race of the stormy hills, we shall fight, O Colgar's son, and die in the battle of heroes."

The sound spreads wide; the heroes rise, like the breaking of a blue-rolling wave. They stood on the heath, like oaks with all their branches round them; when they echo to the stream of frost, and their withered leaves rustle to the wind.

High Cromla's head of clouds is gray; the morning trembles on the half-enlightened ocean. The blue, gray mist swims slowly by, and hides the sons of Innisfail.

"Rise ye," said the king of the dark-brown shields, "ye that came from Lochlin's waves. The sons of Erin have fled from our arnis-pursue them over the plains of Lena.

And Morla,

go to Cormac's hall and bid them yield to Swaran; before the people shall fall into the tomb; and the hills of Ullin be silent." They rose like a flock of sea-fowl when the waves expel them from the shore. Their sound was like a thousand streams that meet in Cona's vale when, after a stormy night, they turn their dark eddies beneath the pale light of the morning.

As the dark shades of autumn fly over the hills of grass, so gloomy, dark, successive came the chiefs of Lochlin's echoing woods. Tall as the stag of Morven moved on the king of groves. His shining shield is on his side like a flame on the heath at night, when the world is silent and dark, and the traveller sees some ghost sporting in the beam.

A blast from the troubled ocean removed the settled mist. The sons of Innisfail appear like a ridge of rocks on the shore.

"Now from the troubled main a blast dispelled

The settled mist, and like a ridge of rocks

The warlike sons of Innisfail appear."

-SHACKLETON'S OSSIAN.

"Go, Morla, go," said Lochlan's king, "and offer peace to these. Offer the terms we give to kings when nations bow before us. When the valiant are dead in war, and the virgins weeping on the field."

Great Morla came, the son of Swart, and stately strode the king of shields. He spoke to Erin's blue-eyed son, among the lesser heroes.

"the peace he

Leave Ullin's

Thy spouse

"Take Swaran's peace," the warrior spoke, gives to kings, when the nations bow before him. lovely plains to us, and give thy spouse and day. high-bosomed heaving fair. Thy dog that overtakes the wind. Give these to prove the weakness of thine arm, and live beneath our power."

"Tell Swaran, tell that heart of pride, that Cuchullin never yields. I give him the dark-blue rolling of ocean, or I give his people graves in Erin! Never shall a stranger have the lovely sunbeam of Dunscaich; nor ever deer fly on Lochlin's hills before the nimble-footed Luäth.”

"Vain ruler of the car," said Morla, "wilt thou fight the king; that king whose ships of many groves could carry off thine Isle? So little is thy green-hilled Ullin to the king of stormy

waves."

"In words I yield to many, Morla; but this sword shall yield to none. Erin shall own the sway of Cormac, while Connal and Cuchullin live. O Connal, first of mighty men, thou hast heard the words of Morla; shall thy thoughts then be of peace, thou breaker of the shields? Spirit of fallen Crugal!

why didst thou threaten us with death! The narrow house shall receive me in the midst of the light of renown. Exalt, ye sons of Innisfail, exalt the spear and bend the bow; rush on the foe in darkness, as the spirits of stormy nights."

Then dismal, roaring, fierce, and deep the gloom of battle rolled along; as mist that is poured on the valley, when storms invade the silent sunshine of heaven. The chief moves before in arms like an angry ghost before a cloud, when meteors inclose him with fire, and the dark winds are in his hand. Carril, far on the heath, bids the horn of battle sound. He raises the voice of the song, and pours his soul into the minds of heroes.

his

"Where," said the mouth of the song, "where is the fallen Crugal? He lies forgot on earth, and the hall of shells' is silent.Sad is the spouse of Crugal, for she is a stranger' in the hall of her sorrow. But who is she, that, like a sunbeam, flies before the ranks of the foe? It is Degrena, lovely fair, the spouse of fallen Crugal. Her hair is on the wind behind. Her eye is red; her voice is shrill. Green, empty is thy Crugal now, form is in the cave of the hill. He comes to the ear of rest, and raises his feeble voice; like the humming of the mountain-bee, or collected flies of evening. But Degrena falls like a cloud of the morn; the sword of Lochlin is in her side. Cairbar, she is fallen, the rising thought of thy youth. She is fallen, O Cairbar, the thought of thy youthful hours."

Fierce Cairbar heard the mournful sound, and rushed on like ocean's whale; he saw the death of his daughter; and roared in the midst of thousands. His spear met a son of Lochlin, and battle spread from wing to wing. As a hundred winds in Lochlin's groves, as fire in the firs of a hundred hills; so loud, so ruinous and vast the ranks of men are hewn down. Cuchullin cut off heroes like thistles, and Swaran wasted Erin. Curach fell by his hand, and Cairbar of the bossy shield. Morglan lies in lasting rest; and Caolt quivers as he dies. His white breast is stained with his blood, and his yellow hair stretched in the dust

1 The ancient Scots, as well as the present Highlanders, drunk in shells; hence it is that we so often meet, in the old poetry, with the chief of shells, and the halls of shells.

2 Crugal had married Degrena but a little time before the battle, consequently she may with propriety be called a stranger in the hall of her sorrow. Deo-gréna, a sunbeam.

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