"Ullin of the most aged step (the step of feeblest age) came nigh, And thus address'd the son of Starn: 'Thou from the land afar, thou brave, Like, in thy mail and thy arms, To a rock in the midst of the billows, Come to the banquet of the chiefs; Pass the day of calm in feasting; To-morrow ye shall break the shields In the strife where play the spears.' "'This very day,' said the son of Starn, 'this very day I shall break in the hill the spear; To-morrow thy king shall be low in the dust, And Swaran and his braves shall banquet.' "'To-morrow let the hero feast,' Smiling said the king of Morven; 'To-day let us fight the battle in the hill, And break the mighty shield. Ossian, stand thou by my side; Gall, thou great one, lift thy hand; Fillan, throw thy matchless lance; Lift your shields aloft As the moon in shadow in the sky; Be your spears as the herald of death. Follow, follow me in my renown; Be as hosts (as hundreds) in the conflict.' "As a hundred winds in the oak of Morven; As a hundred streams from the steep-sided mountain; As clouds gathering thick and black; As the great ocean pouring on the shore, So broad, roaring, dark and fierce, Met the braves, a-fire, on Lena. The shout of the hosts on the shoulders (bones) of the mountains Was as a torrent in a night of storm When bursts the cloud on glenny Cona, And a thousand ghosts are shrieking loud On the viewless crooked wind of the cairns. "Swiftly the king advanced in his might, As the spirit of Trenmore, pitiless spectre, When he comes in the whirl-blast of the billows To Morven, the land of his loved sires. The oak resounds on the mountain, Before him falls the rock of the hills; Through the lightning-flash the spirit is seen-- His great steps are from cairn to cairn. "Bloody, I ween, was my sire in the field, When he drew with might his sword; The king remember'd his youth, When he fought the combat of the glens. "Ryno sped as the fire of the sky, Gloomy and black was Gall, (wholly black;) Fergus rush'd as the wind on the mountain; Fillan advanced as the mist on the woods; Ossian was as a pillar of rock in the combat. My soul exulted in the king, Many were the deaths and dismal 'Neath the lightning of my great sword in the strife. "My locks were not then so gray, Nor shook my hand with age. The light of my eye was unquench'd, And aye unwearied in travel was my foot. "Who will tell of the deaths of the people? Who the deeds of the mighty chiefs? When kindled to wrath was the king; Lochlin was consumed on the side of the mountain. Sound on sound rose from the hosts, Till fell on the waves the night. Feeble, trembling, and pale as (hunted) deer, Lochlin gather'd on heath-clad Lena."[2]