Mercury told Charon that he might carry Homer to Olympus, and place him with the Demigods; but he could not be permitted to go to Munster-house, for the same reason Lord C----d had been rejected: But Ossian had a just claim to that indulgence. The Chief of other years being landed, addressed Lady Darnley as follows: Ossian.----I have escaped from _the narrow-house_[53]! I have crossed _Col-amon_[54], O daughter of Munster, to behold thy glory. My joy returns as when I first beheld the maid, the white-bosomed daughter of strangers, _Moina_[55] with the dark blue eyes: But _Crimiona_[56] should be thy name, for thou art the guiding star of the women of Albion, who mark no years with their deeds! Time rolls on, seasons return, but they are still unknown. Vanity is their recompence; and when their years shall have an end, no grey stone shall rise to their renown! But the departure of thy soul shall be a stream of light! A thousand bards shall sing of thy praise; and the maids of harmony, with their trembling harps, shall relate thy mighty deeds! Thy son, when the years of his youth shall arise, will raise the mould about thy stone, and bid it speak to other years! The joy of his grief will be great! Like the memory of joys that are past, pleasant and mournful to the soul. He will say, 'she will not come forth in her beauty, will move no more in the steps of her loveliness: but she will be like the rainbow on streams, or the gilding of sun-beams on the hills! She has not fallen unknown! Her fame surrounded her like light; her rays, like those of the sun, cherished all on whom they fell. Her wealth was the support of the needy; the weak rested secure in her halls! She softened at the sight of the sad; her blue eyes rolled in tears for the afflicted; her breast of snow heaved for the oppressed; and the moving of her lips assuaged their grief!--O sons of Albion, may you behold her son, like the _halo_ of the _rainbow_, exhibit _the same_ though _fainter colours_!' Lady Darnley.--Father of heroes, dweller of eddying winds, thy praise gladdens my heart! My soul is exalted, my fame secured, by the voice of Conna[57]! Thou hast been a beam of light to latter times, as thy mighty deeds have been remembered, though thou hast long been a blast! Thy renown grew only on the fall of the haughty; thy foes were the sons of the guilty; but thine arms rescued the feeble! Thou wentest forth in echoing steel, and conquered the king of many isles: He brought thee his daughter Oina-moral, as an offering of peace. She was gentle as the evening breeze; her hair was of a raven black, and her bosom vied in whiteness with the _Canna_[58] on the Fuar-Bhean[59].--And though thy locks were young, yielded her to the hero she loved[60]! But like unto Cathmor[61] of old, I perceive the sound of thy praises is displeasing to thine ear!