It is, I fondly said, Cuchullin’s car!
The Chief returning from the roar of war!
—A light had likewise gleam’d on Lena’s heath;
My love, my Oscar! ’tis thy spear of death!
I said: but Oscar’s spear is in the tomb;
His shield, O Selma, in thy empty womb.
I saw its bosses cover’d o’er with rust,
And all its thongs fast-mould’ring into dust.
OSSIAN.
Ev’n so, Malvina, my brave Oscar’s love!