Fragments of Ancient Poetry

by James Macpherson

XII
RYNO, ALPIN.
RYNO
The wind and the rain are over:
calm is the noon of day. The
clouds are divided in heaven. Over
the green hills flies the inconstant sun.
Red through the stony vale comes
down the stream of the hill. Sweet are
thy murmurs, O stream! but more
sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice
of Alpin the son of the song, mourning
for the dead. Bent is his head of age,
and red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou
son of the song, why alone on the silent
hill? why complainest thou, as a
blast in the wood; as a wave on the
lonely shore?
ALPIN.
My tears, O Ryno! are for the dead;
my voice, for the inhabitants of the
grave. Tall thou art on the hill; fair
among the sons of the plain. But thou
shalt fall like Morar; and the mourner
shalt sit on thy tomb. The hills shall
know thee no more; thy bow shall lie in
the hall, unstrung.
Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a
doe on the hill; terrible as a meteor of
fire. Thy wrath was as the storm of
December. Thy sword in battle, as
lightning in the field. Thy voice was
like a stream after rain; like thunder
on distant hills. Many fell by thy
arm; they were consumed in the flames
of thy wrath.
But when thou returnedst from war,
how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face
was like the sun after rain; like the
moon in the silence of night; calm as
the breast of the lake when the loud
wind is laid.
Narrow is thy dwelling now; dark
the place of thine abode. With three
steps I compass thy grave, O thou who
wast so great before! Four stones with
their heads of moss are the only memorial
of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf,
long grass which whistles in the wind,
mark to the hunter's eye the grave of
the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art
low indeed. Thou hast no mother to
mourn thee; no maid with her tears of
love. Dead is she that brought thee
forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan.
Who on his staff is this? who is this,
whose head is white with age, whose
eyes are red with tears, who quakes
at every step?—It is thy father, O
Morar! the father of none but thee.
He heard of thy fame in battle; he heard
of foes dispersed. He heard of Morar's
fame; why did he not hear of his
wound? Weep, thou father of Morar!
weep; but thy son heareth thee not.
Deep is the sleep of the dead; low their
pillow of dust. No more shall he hear
thy voice; no more shall he awake at
thy call. When shall it be morn in the
grave, to bid the slumberer awake?
Farewell, thou bravest of men!
thou conqueror in the field! but the field
shall see thee no more; nor the dark
wood be lightened with the splendor of
thy steel. Thou hast left no son.
But the song shall preserve thy name.
Future times shall hear of thee; they
shall hear of the fallen Morar.

XIII
[Footnote: This is the opening of the epic poem mentioned in the preface.
The two following fragments are parts of some episodes of the same work.]
Cuchlaid sat by the wall; by the
tree of the rustling leaf.
[Footnote: The aspen or poplar tree]
His spear leaned against the mossy rock.
His shield lay by him on the grass.
Whilst he thought on the mighty Carbre
whom he slew in battle, the scout of
the ocean came, Moran the son of Fithil.
Rise, Cuchulaid, rise! I see the ships
of Garve. Many are the foe, Cuchulaid;
many the sons of Lochlyn.
Moran! thou ever tremblest; thy
fears increase the foe. They are the
ships of the Desert of hills arrived to assist
Cuchulaid.
I saw their chief, says Moran, tall as
a rock of ice. His spear is like that fir;
his shield like the rising moon. He sat
upon a rock on the shore, as a grey
cloud upon the hill. Many, mighty
man! I said, many are our heroes;
Garve, well art thou named,
many are the sons of our king.
[Footnote: Garve signifies a man of great size.]
He answered like a wave on the
rock; who is like me here? The valiant
live not with me; they go to the
earth from my hand. The king of the
Desert of hills alone can fight with
Garve. Once we wrestled on the hill.
Our heels overturned the wood. Rocks
fell from their place, and rivulets changed
their course. Three days we strove
together; heroes stood at a distance,
and feared. On the fourth, the King
saith that I fell; but Garve saith, he
stood. Let Cuchulaid yield to him that
is strong as a storm.
No. I will never yield to man.
Cuchulaid will conquer or die. Go,
Moran, take my spear; strike the shield
of Caithbait which hangs before the
gate. It never rings in peace. My heroes
shall hear on the hill,—

XIV
DUCHOMMAR, MORNA.
DUCHOMMAR.
[Footnote: The signification of the names in this fragment are;
Dubhchomar, a black well-shaped man. Muirne or Morna, a woman beloved
by all. Cormac-cairbre, an unequalled and rough warriour. Cromleach,
a crooked hill. Mugruch, a surly gloomy man. Tarman, thunder. Moinie,
soft in temper and person.]
Morna, thou fairest of women,
daughter of Cormac-Carbre!
why in the circle of stones, in the cave
of the rock, alone? The stream murmureth
hoarsely. The blast groaneth
in the aged tree. The lake is troubled
before thee. Dark are the clouds of
the sky. But thou art like snow on
the heath. Thy hair like a thin cloud
of gold on the top of Cromleach. Thy
breasts like two smooth rocks on the hill
which is seen from the stream of Brannuin.
Thy arms, as two white pillars
in the hall of Fingal.
MORNA.
Whence the son of Mugruch, Duchommar
the most gloomy of men? Dark
are thy brows of terror. Red thy rolling
eyes. Does Garve appear on the
sea? What of the foe, Duchommar?
DUCHOMMAR.
From the hill I return, O Morna,
from the hill of the flying deer. Three
have I slain with my bow; three with
my panting dogs. Daughter of Cormac-Carbre,
I love thee as my soul. I
have slain a deer for thee. High was
his branchy head; and fleet his feet of
wind.
MORNA.
Gloomy son of Mugruch, Duchommar!
I love thee not: hard is thy heart
of rock; dark thy terrible brow. But
Cadmor the son of Tarman, thou art
the love of Morna! thou art like a sunbeam
on the hill, in the day of the
gloomy storm. Sawest thou the son of
Tarman, lovely on the hill of the chace?
Here the daughter of Cormac-Carbre
waiteth the coming of Cadmor.
DUCHOMMAR.
And long shall Morna wait. His
blood is on my sword. I met him by
the mossy stone, by the oak of the noisy
stream. He fought; but I slew him;
his blood is on my sword. High on
the hill I will raise his tomb, daughter
of Cormac-Carbre. But love thou the
son of Mugruch; his arm is strong as a
storm.
MORNA.
And is the son of Tarman fallen;
the youth with the breast of snow! the
first in the chase of the hill; the foe
of the sons of the ocean!—Duchommar,
thou art gloomy indeed; cruel is
thy arm to me.—But give me that
sword, son of Mugruch; I love the
blood of Cadmor.
[He gives her the sword, with which she instantly stabs him.]
DUCHOMMAR.
Daughter of Cormac-Carbre, thou
hast pierced Duchommar! the sword is
cold in my breast; thou hast killed the
son of Mugruch. Give me to Moinic
the maid; for much she loved Duchommar.
My tomb she will raise on the
hill; the hunter shall see it, and praise
me.—But draw the sword from my
side, Morna; I feel it cold.—
[Upon her coming near him, he stabs her. As she fell, she plucked a stone
from the side of the cave, and placed it betwixt them, that his blood
might not be mingled with hers.]

XV
[1]Where is Gealchossa my love, the
daughter of Tuathal-Teachvar?
I left her in the hall of the plain, when I
fought with the hairy Ulfadha. Return
soon, she said, O Lamderg! for
here I wait in sorrow. Her white breast
rose with sighs; her cheek was wet
with tears. But she cometh not to meet
Lamderg; or sooth his soul after battle.
Silent is the hall of joy; I hear not
the voice of the singer. Brann does
not shake his chains at the gate, glad
at the coming of his master. Where
is Gealchossa my love, the daughter of
Tuathal-Teachvar?
[Footnote: The signification of the names in this fragment are;
Gealchossack, white-legged. Tuathal-Teachtmhar, the surly, but fortunate
man. Lambhdearg, bloodyhand. Ulfadba, long beard. Fichios, the conqueror
of men.]
Lamderg! says Firchios son of Aydon,
Gealchossa may be on the hill;
she and her chosen maids pursuing the
flying deer.
Firchios! no noise I hear. No
sound in the wood of the hill. No
deer fly in my sight; no panting dog
pursueth. I see not Gealchossa my
love; fair as the full moon setting on
the hills of Cromleach. Go, Firchios!
go to Allad, the grey-haired son of
the rock. He liveth in the circle of
stones; he may tell of Gealchossa.
[Footnote: Allad is plainly a Druid consulted on this occasion.]
Allad! saith Firchios, thou who
dwellest in the rock; thou who tremblest
alone; what saw thine eyes of
age?
I saw, answered Allad the old, Ullin the son of Carbre: He came like a
cloud from the hill; he hummed a surly
song as he came, like a storm in
leafless wood. He entered the hall of
the plain. Lamderg, he cried, most
dreadful of men! fight, or yield to Ullin.
Lamderg, replied Gealchoffa,
Lamderg is not here: he fights the
hairy Ulfadha; mighty man, he is not
here. But Lamderg never yields; he
will fight the son of Carbre. Lovely art
thou, O daughter of Tuathal-Teachvar!
said Ullin. I carry thee to the
house of Carbre; the valiant shall have
Gealchossa. Three days from the top
of Cromleach will I call Lamderg to
fight. The fourth, you belong to Ullin,
if Lamderg die, or fly my sword.
Allad! peace to thy dreams!—found
the horn, Firchios!—Ullin may
hear, and meet me on the top of Cromleach.
Lamderg rushed on like a storm.
On his spear he leaped over rivers. Few
were his strides up the hill. The rocks
fly back from his heels; loud crashing
they bound to the plain. His armour,
his buckler rung. He hummed a surly
song, like the noise of the falling
stream. Dark as a cloud he stood above;
his arms, like meteors, shone.
From the summit of the hill, he rolled
a rock. Ullin heard in the hall of
Carbre.—