It is to this poem that Mr. Macpherson alludes, when he speaks of the dispute reported to have taken place between Ossian and a Culdee. At my request he translated this curious controversial tract. The dispute was managed on both sides with a great deal of polemic ardour. St. Patrick, with apostolic zeal, shuts the gates of mercy on all whose faith differs from his own, and, with an unsaintly vehemence extends the exclusion in a pointed manner, to the ancestors of Ossian, who, he declares, are suffering in the _limbo_ of tortured spirits. * * Notwithstanding the sceptical obstinacy that Ossian here displays, there is a current tradition of his having been present at a baptismal ceremony performed by the Saint, who accidentally struck the sharp point of his crozier through the bard’s foot, who, supposing it part of the ceremony, remained transfixed to the earth without a murmer. The bard tenderly replies, “It is hard to believe thy tale, O man of the white book! that Fion, _or one so generous_, should be in captivity with God or man.” When, however, the saint persists in the assurance, that not even the generosity of the departed hero could save him from the house of torture, the failing spirit of “the King of Harps” suddenly sends forth a lingering flash of its wonted fire; and he indignantly declares, “that if the Clan of Boisgno were still in being, they would liberate their beloved general from this threatened hell.” The Saint, however, growing warm in the argument, expatiates on the great difficulty of _any_ soul entering the court of God: to which the infidel bard beautifully replies:--“Then he is not like _Fionn M’Cuil_, or chief of the Fians; for every man upon the earth might enter _his_ court without asking his permission.” Thus, as you perceive, fairly routed, I however artfully proposed terms of capitulation, as though my defeat was yet dubious. “Were I a Scotchman,” said I, “I should be furnished with more effectual arms against you; but as an Englishman, I claim an armed neutrality, which I shall endeavour to preserve between the two nations. At the same time that I feel the highest satisfaction in witnessing the just pretentions of that country (which now ranks in my estimation next to my own) to a work which would do honour to _any_ country so fortunate as to claim its author as her son.” The Prince, who seemed highly gratified by this avowal, shook me heartily by the hand, apparently flattered by his triumph; and at that moment Glorvina entered. “O, my dear!” said the Prince, “you are just come in time to witness an amnesty between Mr. Mortimer and me.” “I should much rather witness the amnesty than the breach,” returned she, smiling. “We have been battling about the country of Ossian,” said the priest, “with as much vehemence as the claimants on the birthplace of Homer.”