Temora: an epic poem

Canto I. Of

AN EPIC POEM.

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EPIC POEM.

IN EIGHT CANTOS.

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" Yes ! — In their years renown'd — they led the fight ! " Their proud foes dread ! — their fearless clans' delight !' Temora, Canto i.

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The following pages were not originally intended to meet the public eye, — they were undertaken solely for amusement, and would never have appeared in print, had not the author yielded to the wishes of others, who fancied they perceived in them a merit, to wLich he fears they have little claim.

In fact, public opinion seems to be against the possibility of subjecting Ossian to the fetters of English metre, without either stripping him of his dignity, or losing, in the gaudy attire of modern poetry, that characteristic simplicity and energy for which he is so justly admired ; and which we so naturally concatenate with the manners of the times he depicts.

1(,

From these causes, the author feels that he comes before the world under very grfcat disadvantages, augmented by the general prejudice in favour of that dress in which Macpherson has left the Poems of Ossian. — Although he did not conceive these considerations entitled, absolutely, to preclude the attempt ; they were sufficient to induce him to adhere, very rigidly, to the sentiments, and, sometimes, to the expressions of Macpherson's translation. Macpherson's notes have also been retained, with a few additions.

On the success of this, his first attempt, depends his intention of versifying the whole of the Poems of Ossian.

Perth, February, 1818, t canto I.

ARGUMENT.

Cairbar, the son of Borbarduthal, lord of Atha, in Connaught, the most potent chief of the race of the Firbolg, having murdered at Temora, the royal palace, Cormac, the son of Artho, the young king of Ireland, usurped the throne. Cormac was lineally descended from Conar, the son of Trenmor, the great grandfather of Fingal, king of those Caledonians who inhabited the western coast of Scotland. Fingal resented the behaviour of Cairbar, and resolved to pass over with an army, into Ireland, to re-establish the royal family on the Irish throne. Early intelligence of his designs coming to Cairbar, he assembled some of his tribes in Ulster, and at the same time ordered his brother Cathmor to follow him speedily with an army, from Temora. Such was the situation of affairs when the Caledonian invaders appeared on the coast of Ulster.

The poem opens in the morning. Cairbar is represented as retired from the rest of his army, when one of his scouts brought him the news of the landing of Fingal. He assembles a council of his chiefs. Foldath, the

ARGUMENT.

chief of Moma, haughtily despises the enemy; and is reprimanded warmly by Malthos. Cairbar, after hearing their debate, orders a feast to be prepared, to which, by his bard Olla, he invites Oscar, the son of Ossian ; resolving to pick a quarrel with that hero, and to have some pretext for killing him. Oscar came to the feast ; the quarrel happened ; the followers of both fought ; and Cairbar and Oscar fell by mutual wounds. The noise of the battle reached FjiigaJ.'s acmy. The king .came on, to the relief of Oscar, and the Irish fell back to the army of Cathmor, who was advanced to the banks of the river Lubar, on the heath of Moi-lena. Fingal, after mourning over his grandson, ordered Ullin, the chief of his bards, to carry his body to Morven, to be there interred. Night coining on, Althan, the son of Conachar, relates to the king the particulars of the murder of Cormac. Fillan, the son of Fingal, is sent to observe the motions of Cathmor by night. Which concludes ,the actions of the first day. The scene of this Canto is a plain, near the, hill of Mora, which rose on the borders of the heath of Moi-lena, in Ulster.

I. On azure waves, which lave green Erin's shore

And 'gainst her craggy bulwarks loudly roar,

The morning's ray now gently steals around,

And, through blue mists, displays the dew-moist ground.

It's dusky head, the tree shakes in the wind.

Their rugged paths, the noisy torrents find.

Canto 1. TEMORA,

Bedeck'd with aged oaks, two hills surround

A narrow plain, and shade the neighbouring ground:

A crystal stream it's silent waters glides.

And, in two parts, the grassy vale divides*

Cairbar 1 of Atha, on its green bank stood;

And scarce regards the slowly passing flood.

His spear (revers'd) the haughty king supports.—

With fearful glance his fiery eye-ball sports !

His gloomy soul the murder'd Cormac sees,

Ghastly, with wounds, the airy phantom flees !

Dishevel'd locks his pallid cheek expose —

From his young side a bloody streamlet flows !

In conscious guilt absorb'd, fierce Cairbar starts.

Thrice, from his hand the warlike weapon parts.

Thrice, from his face the death-cold sweat he wrung.

And wildly round his sinewy arms he flung !

Short are his steps — with quick — convulsive stops.

Oft' on his breast his red-hair'd chin he drops.

As when a cloud, fast scudding with each blast,

Displays it's varied forms, in wild contrast:

Close on the mountain's side, it's footsteps lower; Each sombre valley fears, by turns, the shower. Tranquil, at length, the king resumes his soul — His wonted reason now assumes control. Quick, from the ground, his pointed spear he took, And, to Moi-lena, turned his anxious look. "With wistful gaze, he sees his fleet scouts fly, From where proud Ocean lifts his waves on high. Fear marks their steps ! — their frequent looks behind, To Cairbar's soul, the foe's approach defin'd ! He calls his gloomy chiefs. —

II. At his command

They quickly come, and round their monarch stand.

As vivid lightning darts across the sky,

Their burnish'd hangers from the scabbards fly.

There, dark-fac'd Morlath, ? at his post we find.

Hidalla's hair floats graceful in the wind.

Red-headed Cormar's rolling eyes appear.

Mark how he bends him o'er his well wrought spear.

Canto I. AN EPIC POEM, $

Proud Malthos wildly knits his shaggy brows : And secret vengeance, 'gainst his rival, vows. Like to a rock which raging seas assault, While foaming breakers round its dark sides vault-^ Bold Foldath's soul, in danger, knows no fear ! Erect, as^ tall Slimora's fir, his spear. On his broad shield, the print of war's wild dart Tells, like his eye, the valour of his heart ! These, and a thousand chiefs, surround the king, When Ocean's scouts the hasty tidings bring. Mor-annal* flies from brown Moi-lena's vale — Swoln his eyes ! — his trembling lips are pale 1 Breathless with running ! — with uplifted hands ! He thus their cold inaction reprimands.

III

" Are these the chiefs which make proud Erin's boast? Silent as night I — And Fingal on the coast ! Fitigal ! the valiant king of Morven's streams —

From whose bright shield the ray of conquest beams !"

c

* Mor-annal, strong breath ; a very proper name for a scout,

" Hast thou" (said Cairbar) seen the warrior land ? —

Are many heroes in his veteran band? — «

Lifts he the spear of battle? — Or the king,

Does be bright peace, to Erin's green isle, bring?"

" O Erin's king! — I've seen his forward spear ! 3

In peace he comes not : no ! — our foes are near !

Death's meteor ! stain'd with thousand's bloody gore !— - With point thrown forward, reach'd the trembling shore ! Wi>h sinewy limbs, and lengthy stride, he stept, — When, from the boat, — though grey with age, — he leapt. With his sharp sword, the blow he ne'er repeats— The faultless blade, at every stroke, defeats ! 4 Like to the bloody moon, in stormy sky, The hero held his mighty shield on high ! Then Ossian came — the king of songs appear'd ! Then Morni's son, who never danger fear'd ! With his long spear, brave Connal onward sped. His dark-brown locks, the portly Dermid spread. From streamy Moruth — Fillan bends his bow : Oft' has the youth the flying hind laid low.

Canto I. AN EPIC POEM.

But who is this, that, like a torrent's course, Impetuous, rushes on, in mighty force ?— His waving hair, a visage bright displays — And, on his back, in sportive ringlets, plays. His fine dark brows are half enclosed in steel — 'Tis Ossian's son ! — each heart must terror feel ! His trusty sword hangs, loosely, by his side — His glittering spear, the moon's ray might deride !

high Temora's king ! — your vassal flies Before the piercing grandeur of his eyes :"

IV

" Then fly thou feeble man ! to thy grey streams ! Wretch ! on whose bosom courage never beams ! Son of the little soul !" (fierce Foldath cries — While, with contempt, he darts his fiery eyes.) Have I not seen that Oscar ?— In the fight

1 have beheld the chief exert his might. He's of the brave— but others lift the spear ! Erin has many sons who know not fear ! ! King of Temora's groves ! I fain would meet This Ossian's son ! from whom your vassals fleet f i TEMORA : Canto L

Let Foldath's hand this mighty torrent stop! And, from his haughty brow* the laurels lop ! My blood -stain'd spear has made the valiant fall ! My shield is like the solid Tura's wall !

V

« Shall Foldath* then, alone ! the foe defeat ?" (Says dark brow'd Malthos, rous'd by his conceit.) " Loud as the sound of many waters roar ! Do they not trample on our native shore ? Who vanquish'd Swaran, when green Erin fled ? Who, but these chiefs, that fiery conflict led ? Shall Foldath lay their bravest hero low ? — How long shall thy proud heart it's folly show ! Kay ! — take the people's strength ! — Let Malthos join— • Nor vainly hope all glory to purloin ! Though slaughter, oft', has redden'd Malthos* sword — Who, from his lips, has heard a boasting word ?

VI

"Sons of green Erin"! (said Hidalla,) "wave 6 Such vain disputes — unworthy of the brave 1

Canto I AN EPIC POEM.

Let not proud Fingal ! hear your senseless feuds 1 (May-hap, e'en now, his artful spy intrudes.) It would the foe rejoice ! — his arm sustain ! To find disunion, in our councils, reign ! Brave warriors all ! — ye tempests are in war ! Let discord cease ! — Pale jealousy abhor ! Slow, as a gather'd cloud, we'll move in force ! And, (as a storm pursues it's steady course 'Till broken rocks, like buoyant feathers, fly !— And sturdy forests, in confusion, lie !) Strong shall our hands the mortal weapons grasp, 'Till, in the dust, the foul invaders gasp ! Then shall the mighty feel destruction near ! — The valiant hand shall, trembling, drop the spear ! * Surely we see the cloud of death ! (they'll say,) Dim shadows, now, obscure meridian day !' The aged Fingal ! soon will mourn he came On Erin's shore, to lose his dear-bought fame ! In Morven's halls the chiefs' proud steps shall cease And ages' moss on Selraa shall increase !"

VII

Cairbar, their words, in solemn silence, hears. Like as a threatening cloud it's shower defers On Cromla, — dark the watery mass abides, — 'Till forked lightning bursts it's full-grown sides ! — With heaven's bright flame, the valley gleams around I And stormy spirits sweep the trembling ground ! So stood Temora's king ! — He views his shield. — At length his lips the steady mandate yield. —

" On brown Moi-lena let the feast extend

And all my hundred bards with harps attend. Thou red-hair'd Olla ! — quick to Oscar go — The royal harp of high Temora shew !

Bid to our joy the chief of swords.— — (To-day Let mirth and songs their magic power display ! — To-morrow, break the spears !) * * * * Tell him, my hands the tomb of Cathol rais'd — 7 Tell him — melodious bards, his friend, have prais'd— ■» Tell him — his mighty deeds ! — his glorious name ! — . From Carun 8 travell'd on the wings of fame ! — .

Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. 11

My valiant brother, Cathmor, 9 ] s not here — We wait until his well tried bands appear. Strong shall our hands be when his thousands come, To drive presumptuous Fingal ! from their home ! I know that Cathmor's soul ne'er lov'd deceit — Strife at a feast, could ne'er his sanction meet — Bright as that sun ! — his bosom would recoil — And thus, my needful vengeance quickly foil ! Chiefs of Temora's woods ! — my promise hear ! — Oscar shall fall by Cairbar's bloody spear ! Strong were his words for Cathol ! — great my rage ! — — But soon his death my bosom shall assuage ! — This day ! — on brown Moi~lena's plain — he dies !— - In crimson blood shall Cairbar's fame arise !"

VIII

Bright joy suffus'd it's colour o'er their cheeks ! — - His band, each chief, on wide Moi-lena, seeks. The feast of shells prepares — Bards' songs arise !-*— To Selma's chiefs, the sound ot gay mirth flies ! — l * We thought that mighty Cathmor's host was near ! — Cathmor ! a name, to all ! — to virtue dear !

Though red-hair'd Cairbar's brother— honour spread Her brilliant lustre o'er his noble head ! — The light of heaven's bright beam his bosom traced ! And naught of Cairbar's vice his soul disgraced ! His tower, on Atha's banks, the weary calls ! And seven wide paths lead to his stately halls. On each, a chieftain stands — a mighty Lord — . And bids the stranger to his festive board !

Vain adulation ne'er he sought to raise ! —

But dwelt in woods— to shun the voice of praise !

IX. With artful songs, the red-hair'd Olla came

And greets the hero in false Cairbar's name.

His noble heart could ne'er suspect the blow ! — .

Quick he prepares to Cairbar's feast to go.

Three hundred warriors, now, their lord attend ;

And o'er Moi-lena's plain their footsteps bend.

The grey dogs, bounding on the heathy vale,

King Fingal saw the warrior depart :

Sad was his soul ! — and quickly throbb'd his heart

Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. 13

He fear'd lest Cairbar's thoughts, amid the feast, Should bring destruction on his generous guest ! My son rais'd high the murder'd Cormac's spear ! And now, a -hundred bards proclaim him near — And, with loud songs, the fearless victim cheer ! Cairbar conceaPd, in smiles, his death-black soul ! And on his gloomy features laid control. The feast is spread — The emptied shells resound !— Joy glads each face — and spreads her rays around ! So shines the vivid beam of parting sun ! When near a stormy cloud his path has run !

X

In shining armour deck'd — see Cairbar rise ! How darkness gathers in his piercing eyes ! The hundred harps now cease ! — The shield " is struck — The chiefs, around, in wild confusion, look \ — Olla's deep notes the bloody purpose show ! — Far on the heath he rais'd the song of woe ! ! My son now saw the storm of death appear ! — And, rising, seiz'd, with solid grasp, his spear.

D

" Oscar !" said dark-red Cairbar, " I behold The spear of Erin ! " of her kings of old ! Son of the woody Morven's distant land ! Temora's* spear now glitters in thy hand! I$ An hundred kings, that spear, in triumph, bore ! Unnumbered heroes bath'd its point with gore ! Yield it to me ! — thou son of Ossian, yield ! — For car-borne Cairbar wears proud Erin's shield I"

XL " Shall I," said Oscar, " yield, at thy command, The gift I had from fair-hair' d Cormac's hand? — The gift that Erin's injur'd king bestows, When Oscar scatter'd all his haughty foes ? When Swaran, from the warlike Fingal, fled, My steps to Cormac's joyful halls I sped : His youthtul face the rays of gladness cheer ! — To Oscar's hand he gave Temora's spear ! Think not, 'twas to a puny arm resign'd — Think not, 'tis guarded by a coward mind.

* Ti'mor-i', the house of the great king, the name of the royal palace ef the supreme kings of Ireland.

Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 15

Thy darken'd brow can never move my heart ! — Nor can thine eye the flame of death impart ! Think'st thou, I tremble at thy ci anging shield? — Think'st thou, that OhVs song can make me yield ? No ! — fright the feeble ! — Oscar is a rock ! — And now defies thy false — imbecile shock?"

XII

" Wilt thou not yield the spear ?" proud Cairbar cries- Does vain presumption in thy bosom rise* Because the king of Morven's groves is near ? Can Fingal's aged locks make Cairbar fear? Fingal has fought with little men, before ! But let him, now, proud Atha's chiefs explore — # Soon shall he vanish, like a feeble mist, Which by the winds of Atha is dispers'd ! Were he, who fought with little men, to come Near Atha's haughty chief's embellish 'd home- Then Atha's chief, his bosom would assuage !— • And yield green Erin, to avoid his rage ! I"

* Atha, shalloiv river : the name of Cairbar's seat in Connaught,

" O Cairbar ! mention not his mighty name !

Turn thy proud sword on me ! — our strength's the same,

But Fingal is renown'd ! — shalt thou disdain

Fingal ! — the best ! — the first of mortal men ! !"

Their people saw the darkening chiefs arise —

Wild fury darting from their rolling eyes !

And now we hear their crowding steps resound — -,

A thousand swords are half uusheath'd around !

The song of battle red-hair'd Oila rais'd ! —

Olla ! thy false tongue, once, the hero prais'd !

Then the proud joy of Oscar's soul appear'd ! —

His wonted joy when FingaPs horn was heard !

Dark as the swelling wave its proud head bends —

When rising wind deep ocean's bosom rends. —

Dark as the craggy cliffs of Erin's coast,

With uplift hands, came on foul Can-bar's host !

XIII. * Daughter of Toscar ! why that bursting tear ? — Your Oscar falls not yet — he points his spear ! —

* Malyina, the daughter of Toscar, to whom is addressed that part ©f the poem which relates to the death of Oscar, her lover,

Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 1?

Many a death-felt wound thine arm shall give, Ere — bravest hero ! — thou shalt cease to live !

XIV

Behold they fall before my gallant son ! See how the chiefs his trusty weapon shun ! Behold, they fall ! like desert groves in night, — When a fierce spectre wings his angry flight ! — In his dim hand their broad green heads he takes ! And, massy trees, in scatter'd fragments, shakes ! There Morlath falls ! — Nor long Maronnan stood ! And now Conachar trembles in his blood ! Does Cairbar shrink before my Oscar's sword ? — Cairbar ! where's, now, thy proudly boasting word ? Behind a rock, the coward villain creeps — His trembling eye on noble Oscar keeps — While crowding foes the hero's glance divide, With fatal stroke, he pierc'd my Oscar's side ! There, forward, on his shield, the hero falls ! — His knee supports him — naught his soul appals ! H See ! still he holds his spear ! — see, gloomy Cairbar falls !

The faithful steel through his rough forehead glides ! And, e'en behind ! his dark-red hair divides ! See how he lies ! — as when a shatter'd rock, From Cromla's shaggy side, has felt the shock Of fatal earthquake ! — while, from sea to sea, Green vallied Erin's trembling mountains flee !

XV

Ah ! never more shall mighty Oscar rise? — There — on his bossy shield, the hero lies ! But still his sword is in his fearless hand ! — Distant, and dark, see Erin's sons now stand ! Their savage shouts, like crowded streams arise ! And, from Moi-lena, rend the lofty skies ! The sound has reach'd our warlike Fingal's ear — In anxious haste, he takes proud Selma's spear !

Fast, on the heath, his steps before us go,

With outstretch'd hand he speaks these words of woe ! «' Young Oscar is alone !— - your valiant lord ! — Rise sons of Morven !— -join the hero's sword !"

Canto L AN EPIC POEM. 19

XVI

Along the heath, now, Ossian rush'd with speed ? And bounding Fillan's steps, the hind's exceed ! Great Fingal strode as if in youthful force — As the wild tempest wings its steady course ! From his terrific shield light beams around — As lightning's dreadful flash illumes the ground ! The sons of Erin, though far distant, saw — Their trembling souls are fill'd with gloomy awe ! They knew the wrath of Morven's king arose ; — That wrath which darts destruction on its foes ! We first arrive — with eager hands we fight ! — And Erin's haughty chiefs withstand our might. But when the king, in sounding armour, came — What heart of steel ! could stop the warrior's fame? Fast, over wide Moi-lena, Erin fled ! — Death mark'd her flight ! — and, fear her footsteps led ! Alas ! — with beating hearts ! — we quickly found My Oscar !- — on his shield ! — his blood around ! Now silent sorrow darkens every face ! — And down each cheek the briny torrents chase !

20 TEMORAs Canto L

Yes, — -Selena's king ! — you strove to hide your tears ! — O'er Oscar's head, thy silvery beard appears t — ► With mournful glance, the fallen youth he eyes — His faultering words are half obscur'd by sighs \

XVII. • O Oscar! — Oscar ! — art thou fallen ! — My son !— My child !-hast thou thy short ! -bright course now run !

Alas ! — the aged bosom o'er thee beats !

Ala&! — cold death it's proudest hopes defeats! —

How fondly did he view thy coming fame !

He weighed the growing glory of thy name —

He view'd the wars in which thou yet should shine —

Alas ! — cut off from thy fond grasp ! — and mine !

Ah ! — when shall Selma see a joyful heart?

Ah ! — when shall grief from Morven's groves depart ?

Alas ! my sons, you fall— your deaths I trace !

Fingal ! thou art the last of thy proud race !

O Fingal's fame — how quickly dost thou glide !

Mine hoary age must without friends abide !

Like a grey cloud, in Selma's hall, I'll sit !

Ne'er a victorious son's return I'll greet I

Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. 21

Weep Morven's heroes ! — Flow thy streaming eyes !— Never ! — ah ! never more ! — shall Oscar rise!"

XVIII

And they did weep, O Fingal ! — He was dear ! — Oft* did the hero's voice their spirits cheer ! The haughty foe soon vanished from their sight, When e'er my Oscar led the glorious fight ! — Oft' did his hand the mighty foe destroy ! — Oft' he return'd in peace — amidst their joy!

No fathers, for their youthful sons, complain !

No brother weeps his much lov'd brother slain ! — Unseen they fall ! — nor cause one pang of woe ! — For Morven's chief !-— their Oscar ! — is laid low ! ! See faithful Bran * is howling at his feet !-~- Luath ! no more your master's steps you'll greet !■— Ne'er to the mountain chase shall Oscar go ! — Ne'er shall he guide you to the bounding roe J

XIX

When Oscar heard his friends their grief disclose, His dim eye mov'd, — his heaving breast arose !

E

* Bran was one of Fingal's dogs. Bran signifies a mountain stream,

22 TEMOIIA: Canto L

" My aged chiefs," (said he,) "your tears — your groans! —

The sudden bursts of grief's heart-rending song! —

Have melted Oscar's* soul, — his bosom wrung: —

My soul, that never melted was before ! —

'Twas like the steel that Oscar's hand once bore !

Unto my hills ! — thy son, O Ossian ! — bear ! —

And raise the stones of his renown with care i

A wild deer's horn shall near my head abide, —

And place my trusty sword close by my side.

The mountain torrent may, hereafter, waste

The cold clay-bed which on my bosom's plac'd !

Perhaps some hunter's hand the steel may find, —

When to the dust my moulder'd frame's resign'd ! —

Mayhap he'll say— his eyelid moist with tears! —

" This has been Oscar's sword : — the pride of other years \"

Son of my fame ! — is that thy last deep sigh ! —

Shall Oscar never glad his father's eye?

Alas ! my Oscar, ne'er thy voice I'll hear !

Ne'er shall thy much-lov'd name my bosom. cheer !

Canto I. AN EPIC POEM. 23

The moss of years is on thy four grey* stones ! — The mourning wind o'er thy cold mansion groans ! — Ne'er shall thine eye the mortal combat view ! Ne'er shall thy feet the dark brown hinds pursue ! Mayhap, when, from their battles, warriors come, And tell of other lands in which they roam. — " I've seen a tomb, by the rough stream," (they'll say,) *' A chief's dark dwelling — once the pride of day ! In glorious combat, on the plain, he fell, By car-borne Oscar! — first of mortal men!" Mayhap, their words, with eager pride, I'll hear ! A beam of joy my drooping soul shall cheer.

XX

The silent night would on our sorrows close,^— And morning's ray have seen our pale-fac'd woes !— • Our heroes, like the droj p.ng rocks, have stood, — And, o'er Moi-lena, pour'd the briny flood. — Their conqu'ring hands had now forgot their might, — And fame's green wreath had vanished from their sight —

* I am told, that Jour grey stones, supposed to be Oscar's tomb, were lately discovered about fifteen miles from Perth.

Did not the aged king disperse his grief, And, with his mighty voice, address each chief. As if, from dreams, new waken'd — at the sound They quickly raise their drooping heads around.

XXI

" How long, on brown Moi-lena, shall we weep? — How long, with tears, the soil of Erin steep ? Can all our sorrows ope the hero's eyes ? Will fallen Oscar ! in his strength arise ? Each in his day — the valiant chiefs must fall ! And cease to glad their friends — their native hall ! O warriors ! where are those who gave you birth ?— The chiefs of old ! increase the moulder'd earth ! They, like the setting stars, have hid their rays ! We see them not, — but hear their sounding praise \ Yes : — in their years renown'd ! they led the fight ! Their proud foes' dread ! — their fearless clans' delight ! Thus shall we pass away — when comes the hour In which grim death shall on our visage lower ! While time remains, then, let us seek renown ! — And gain, with fearless hands, bright conquest's crown !

Canto I. AN EPIC POEM.

As, when the brilliant sun retires to rest. And proudly hides his red head in the west : Witb wistful eye, the traveller views his flame. So shall we hand, to future bards, our fame ! — L Din, my aged bard I — to thee the care — To Selma's harps, my lifeless Oscar bear ! — Take thou the ship of woody Morven's king, — Let Morven's daughters weep o'er him you bring ! I : i ralien Cormac's race ! we here must fight, I feel my years 1 — and my declining might !

tabors hi *.. :h valiant deeds have done, — Bend, from their clouds, to meet their grey-hair'd son. Bright feme, (before I go,) one beam shall lend : My years began — with glory shall they end !

engthenM life one stream of light shall be ! And future bards, no shade, — n : stain shall see /'