Fragments Of Ancient Poetry, Fragment V by James Macpherson — Stanza

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Fragments Of Ancient Poetry, Fragment V

by James Macpherson

Autumn is dark on the mountains;

grey mist rests on the hills. The

whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark

rolls the river through the narrow plain.

A tree stands alone on the hill, and

marks the grave of Connal. The leaves

whirl round with the wind, and strew

the grave of the dead. At times are

seen here the ghosts of the deceased,

when the musing hunter alone stalks

slowly over the heath.

Who can reach the source of thy

race, O Connal? and who recount thy

Fathers? Thy family grew like an oak

on the mountain, which meeteth the

wind with its lofty head. But now it

is torn from the earth. Who shall supply

the place of Connal?

Here was the din of arms; and

here the groans of the dying. Mournful

are the wars of Fingal! O Connal!

it was here thou didst fall. Thine arm

was like a storm; thy sword, a beam

of the sky; thy height, a rock on the

plain; thine eyes, a furnace of fire.

Louder than a storm was thy voice,

when thou confoundedst the field. Warriors

fell by thy sword, as the thistle by

the staff of a boy.

Dargo the mighty came on, like a

cloud of thunder. His brows were contracted

and dark. His eyes like two

caves in a rock. Bright rose their

swords on each side; dire was the clang

of their steel.

The daughter of Rinval was near;

Crimora, bright in the armour of man;

her hair loose behind, her bow in her

hand. She followed the youth to the

war, Connal her much beloved. She

drew the string on Dargo; but erring

pierced her Connal. He falls like an

oak on the plain; like a rock from the

shaggy hill. What shall she do, hapless

maid!--He bleeds; her Connal dies.

All the night long she cries, and all the

day, O Connal, my love, and my

friend! With grief the sad mourner

died.

Earth here incloseth the loveliest

pair on the hill. The grass grows between

the stones of their tomb; I sit in

the mournful shade. The wind sighs

through the grass; and their memory

rushes on my mind. Undisturbed you

now sleep together; in the tomb of the

mountain you rest alone.