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OSSIAN'S POEMS: THE BATTLE OF LODA.
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BARDAGHT OSHIN: CAH LODA.
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DUAN I. — The bards distinguished those compositions, in which the narration is often interrupted by episodes and apostrophes, by the name of Duan.
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DOON I.
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A tale of the times of old!
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Skeeal jeh earishyn shendiaght!
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Why, thou wanderer unseen! thou bender of the thistle of Lora; why, thou breeze of the valley, hast thou left mine ear?
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Cammah, uss rouailtagh keillit! uss croymmeder jeh’n onnane Lora; cammah, uss geay-kiune ny glionney, vel oo er hreigeil my chleaysh?
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I hear no distant roar of streams ! No sound of the harp from the rock!
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Cha vel mee clashtyn tassane jeh strooanyn foddey! Cha nee kiaull y claasagh veih’n chreg!
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Come, thou huntress of Lutha, Malvina. call back his soul to the bard.
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Tar, uss ben-helgee Lutha, Valvina, aa-eam e annym da’n Vardagh.
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I look forward to Scandinavia of lakes, to the dark billowy bay of U-thorno, where Fingal descends from ocean, from the roar of winds.
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Ta mee jeeaghyn roym er Loghlin jeh loghyn, gys y vaie U-thorno mooireeragh dorraghey, raad ta Fingal çheet neose veih faarkey, veih buirrooghid ny geayee.
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Few are the heroes of Morven in a land unknown.
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Stiark ny treanee Vorven ayns çheer gynyss.
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Starno sent a dweller of Loda to bid Fingal to the feast; but the king remembered the past, and all his rage arose.
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Hug Starno cummaltagh Loda cuirrey Fingal gys y feailley ; agh chooinee y ree keayrt shaghey, as dirree ooilley e chorree.
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“Nor Gormal’s mossy towers , nor Starno, shall Fingul behold.
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“Nar tooryn keynnee dy Ghormal, nar Starno, ver Fingal my-ner.
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Deaths wander, like shadows, over his fiery soul!
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Ta baaseyn rouail, myr scadooghyn, harrish e annym çhennoil!
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Do I forget that beam of light, the white-handed daughter of kings?*
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“Vel mee jarrood scell hoilshee 'n shid, yn ’neen vane-lauey jeh reeghyn?
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*Agandecca, the daughter of Starno, whom her lather killed, on account of her discovering to Fingal a plot laid against his life.
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Go, son of Loda; his words are wind to Fingal: wind that, to and fro, drives the thistle in autumn’s dusky vale.”
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Immee royd, mac Loda; ta e ghoan geay rish Fingal: geay, ta, huggey’s veih, sheebey yn onnane ’sy choan keeir fouyragh.”
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“Duth-maruno, arm of death !
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“Duth-maruno, roih vaaish!
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Cromma-glas; of iron shields!
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Cromma-glas, jeh scaapyn yiarn!
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Struthmor, dweller of battles’ wing!
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Struthmor, cummaltagh jeh skian chaggee!
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Cormar, whose ships bound on seas, careless as the course of a meteor, on dark, rolling clouds!
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Cormar, lesh lhongyn echey clistal er faarkaghyn, neuchiarailagh myr coorse jeh drilleen--aeragh, er bodjallyn keeirey ta rowlal!
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Arise around me, children of heroes, in a land unknown!
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Irree mygeayrt-y-moom, cloan jeh treanee, ayns çheer gynyss!
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Let each look on his shield, like Trenmor, the ruler of wars.”
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Lhig da gagh fer jeeaghyn er e scaap, gollrish Trenmor, fer-reill dy chaggaghyn.”
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“Come down,” thus Trenmor said, “thou dweller between the harps!
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“Tar neose,” myr-shoh dooyrt Trenmor, “uss cummaltagh eddyr ny claasaghyn!
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Thou shalt roll this stream away, or waste with me in earth.”
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Rowlys oo strooan y shoh ersooyl, er-nonney goys oo mow mârym ’syn ooir.”
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Around the king they rise in wrath. No words come forth: they seize their spears.
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Mygeayrt y ree ta’d girree ayns jymmoose. Cha nee focklyn çheet assdoo: ta’d greimmey nyn shleiyghyn.
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Each soul is rolled into itself.
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Ta gagh annym rowlit ayn hene.
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At length the sudden clang is waked on all their echoing shields.
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Fy-yerrey ta’n feiyr doaltattym dooishtit er ooilley ny scaapyn aasheeanagh oc.
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Each takes his hill by night; at intervals they darkly stand.
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Ta gagh fer goaill e ghun er-roie; ec keayrtyn t’ad nyn shassoo dy-keeir.
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Unequal bursts the hum of songs between the roaring wind!
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Neuchorrym ta’n tessane d’arraneyn brishey magh eddyr y gheay garveigagh !
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Broad over them rose the moon!
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Lhean harroo dirree yn eayst!
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In his arms came tall Duth-maruno; be, from Croma of rocks, stern hunter of the boar!
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Ayns e eilley haink Duth-maruno toallee; eshyn, veih Croma ny creggey, shelgeyr trean jeh’n phurr!
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In his dark boat he rose on waves, when Crumthormo* awaked its woods.
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Ayns e vaatey dorraghey dirree eh er tonnyn, tra ghooisht Crumthormo e keylljyn.
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* Crumtharmoth. one of the Orkney or Shetland Islands.
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In the chase he shone among foes: No fear was thine, Duth-maruno!
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Ayns y çhelgeyrys hoilshee eh mastey noidyn: Cha nee aggle lhiats, Duthmaruno !
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“Son of daring Comhal, shall my steps be forward through night?
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“Vac Chomhal-dunnal, vees my chesmadyn roym fud-ny-hoie?
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From this shield shall I view them, over their gleaming tribes!
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Voish scaap y shoh jeeaghym orroo, harrish nyn gleinnyn londyrnee?
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Starno, king of lakes, is before me, and Swaran, the foe of strangers.
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Ta Starno, ree jeh loghyn, roym, as Swaran, yn noid jeh joarreeyn.
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Their words are not in vain, by Loda’s stone of power.”
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Cha vel nyn vocklyn fardalagh, liorish clagh Loda dy phooar.”
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“Should Duth-maruno not return, his spouse is lonely at home, where meet two roaring streams on Chrathmo-craulo’s plain.
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“Mannagh jyndaays Duth-maruno, ta’n venheshey echey ny-lomarcan ec y thie, raad ta daa strooan buirroogh çheet nyn-guail er strah Chrathmo-craulo.
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Around are hills, with echoing woods, the ocean is rolling near.
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Mygeayrt ta croink, lesh keylljyn aasheeanagh, ta’n aarkey rowlal faggys.
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My son looks on screaming seafowl, a young wanderer on the field.
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Ta my vac jeeaghyn er yeeanlee ny marrey screeagh, rouailtagh aeg er magher.
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Give the head of a boar to Can-dona, tell him of his father’s joy, when the bristly strength of U-thorno rolled on his lifted spear.
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Cur kione phurr da Candona insh rish jeh’n voggey ec e ayr, tra rowl yn troshid fynnagh U-thorno er e shleiy troggit.
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Tell him of my deeds in war! Tell where his father fell!”
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Insh rish jeh my yannoo ayns caggey! Insh rish raad huitt e ayr!”
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“Not forgetful of my fathers,” said Fingal. “I have bounded over the seas.
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“Cha nee jarrood aym er my ayraghyn,” dooyrt Fingal, “ta mee er clistal harrish y cheayn.
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Theirs were the times of danger, in the days of old.
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Lhieusyn ny keayrtyn dy ghanjeyr, ayns laghyn dy hendiaght.
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Nor settles darkness on me, before foes, though youthful in my locks.
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Nar soiagh dorrid sheese orrym. kiongoyrt noidyn, ga s’aeg mish ayns my keogyn.
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Chief of Crathmo-cranlo, the field of night is mine.’
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Ard-er Chrathmo-cranlo, she magher d’oie lhiams.”
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Fingal rushed, in all His arms, wide-bounding over Turthor’s stream, that sent its sullen roar, by night, through Gormals misty vale.
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Roie Fingal dy-tappee, ayns ooilley’n eilley echey, lheimyraght dy-lhean harrish strooan Turthot, dy dug e buirroogh groamagh, er-oie, trooid glion chayagh Ghormal.
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A moonbeam glittered on a rock; in the midst stood a stately form; a form with flowing locks, like Lochlin’s white-bosomed maids.
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Hoilshee’n rehollys dy-gial er creg; hass ’sy veanjee tuarystal stoamey ; tuarystal lesh skeogyn etlagh, gollrish ny caillinyn bane-oghrishagh Loghlin.
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Unequal are her steps, and short.
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Neuchorrym ta ny kesmadyn eck, as giare.
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She throws a broken song on wind.
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T’ee ceau arrane brisht er y gheay.
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At times she tosses her white arms: for grief is dwelling in her soul.
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Ec keayrtyn t’ee ceau mygeayrt e roihaghyn baney: son ta seaghin baghey ayns e hannym.
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“Torcul-torno, of aged locks!”she said, “where now are thy steps, by Lolan?
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“Torcul-torno, jeh skeogyn eashit!” dooyrt ee, “cre vel nish dty chesmadyn-coshey, rish Lulan?
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Thou hast failed at thine own dark streams, father of Conban-cârgla! But I behold thee, chief of Lulan, sporting by Loda’s hall, when the dark-skirted night is rolled along the sky.—
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T’ou er failleil ec ny strooanyn dooey lhiat-hene, ayr Chonban-cârgla ! Agh ta mee cur oo my-ner, ard-er dy Lulan, jannoo reaïd rish halley Loda, tra ta’n oie keeir-çhemmallagh rowlit fud y speyr.
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Thou sometimes hidest the moon with thy shield.
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Keayrtyn t’ou follaghey yn eayst lesh dty scaap.
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I have seen her dim in heaven.
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Ta mee er vakin ee dullyr ayns niau.
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Thou kindlest thy hair into meteors, and sailest along the night.
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T’ou foaddey dt’ olt gys drilleenyn-aeragh, as shiaulley fud-ny-hoie.
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Why am I forgot, in my cave, king of shaggy boars?
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Cre’n-fa ta mee jarroodit, ’syn ooig aym, ree jeh purryn geayshteenagh?
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Look from the hall of Loda on thy lonely daughter.”
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Jeeagh veih’n halley Loda er dt’ inneen ny-lomarcan.”
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“Who art thou,” said Fingal, “voice of night?” She, trembling, turned away.
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“Quoi t’ou,” dooyrt Fingal, “coraa jeh'n oie?”
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Ish, er-creau, hyndaa ersooyl.
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“Who are thou, in thy darkness?”
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“Quoi t’ou, ayns dty ghorraghys?”
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She shrunk into the cave.
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Hooar ee back ’syn ooig.
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The king loosed the thong from her hands. He asked her about her fathers.
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Deayshil y ree yn yeeal ’er e laueyn. Denee eh jee mysh e ayraghyn.
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“Torcul-torno,” she said, “once dwelt at Lulan’s foamy stream: he dwelt—but now, in Loda’s hall, he shakes the sounding shell.
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“Torcul-torno,” dooyrt ee, “keayrt vagh eh ec y strooan keshagh Lolan: vagh eh—agh nish, ayns halley Loda, t’eh coyrt y tlig sheeanagh er-creau.
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He met Starno of Lochlin in war: long fought the dark-eyed kings.
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Hie eh ny quail Starno dy Loghlin ayns caggey; chaggee ny reeaghyn doo-hooillagh rish foddey.
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My father fell, in his blood, blue-shielded Torcul-torno!
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Huitt m’ayr, ayns e uill, Torcul-torno gorm-scaapagh!
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By a rock, at Lulan’s stream, I had pierced the bounding roe.
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Ec creg, ec strooan Lulan, va mee er vroddey y feeaih clistal.
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My white hand gathered my hair from off the rushing winds.
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Hymsee my laue vane m’olt ersooyl veih sheebane y geayee.
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I heard a noise. Mine eyes were up. My soft breast rose on high.
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Chluin mee tarmane. Va my hooillyn troggit. Dirree my chleeau stoamey.
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My step was forward, at Lulan, to meet thee, Torcul-tarno!
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Va my chesmad er my hoshiaght, ec Lulan, dy heet dty whail, Torcul-torno!
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It was Starno, dreadful king ! His red eyes rolled on me in love.
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She Starno v’ayn, ree agglagh! rowl e hooillyn jiargey orrym er cannoo.
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Dark waved his shaggy brow above his gathered smile.
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Heeb y folt casagagh dhoan er e oaie erskyn e smooir çhymsit.
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Where is my father, I said, he that was mighty in war?
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Cre vel m’ayr, dooyrt mee, eshyn va niartal ayns caggey?
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Thou art left alone among foes, O daughter of Torcul-torno!
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T’ou faagit dty lomarcan ny-vud noidyn, O inneen Horcul-torno!
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He took my hand. He raised the sail. In this cave he placed me dark.
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Ghow eh my lane, Hrog eh y shiaull. Hug eh mee ayns ooig y shoh.
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At times he comes, a gathered mist. He lifts before me my father’s shield.
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Ec keayrtyn t’eh çheet gollrish kay. T’eh troggal scaap my hayrey kiongoyrt rhym.
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But often passes a beam of youth, far distant from my cave.
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Agh ta mennick goll shaghey scell d’aegid, foddey jeh veih m’ooig.
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The son of Starno moves in my sight. He dwells lonely in my soul.”
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Ta’n mac Starno gleayshaghey ayns my hilley. T’eh baghey ny-lomarcan ayns m’annym.”
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“Maid of Lulan,” said Fingal, “white-handed daughter of grief! a cloud, marked with streaks of fire, is rolled along thy soul.
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“Caillin dy Lulan,” dooyrt Fingal, “inneen fynn-laueagh dy hrimshey! ta bodjal, cowrit lesh scheimeigyn d’aile, rowlal ny-vud m’annym.
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Look not to that dark-robed moon; look not to those meteors of heaven.
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Ny jeeagh er eayst keeir-cloagagh y shenn; ny jeeagh er ny meiteyryn shen veih niau.
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My gleaming steel is around thee, the terror of thy foes!
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Ta my staillin falleayshagh mygeayrt-y-mood, yn aggle jeg dty noidyn!
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It is not the steel of the feeble, nor of the dark in soul!
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Cha nee staillin jeh ny annooinee eh, ny jeu ta keeir ayns annym!
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The maids are not shut in our caves of streams.
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Cha vel ny caillinyn doont ayns nyn ooigyn jeh strooanyn.
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They toss not their white arms alone. They bend fair within their locks above the harps of Selma.
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Cha vel ad ceau nyn roihaghyn baney mygeayrt nyn-lomarcan, t’ad croymmey aalin ayns nyn skeoeyn erskyn ny claasee Selma.
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Their voice is not in the desert wild. We melt along the pleasing sound!”
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Cha vel nyn goraa ayns yn eaynagh, Ta shin lheie lesh y vingys eunyssagh!”
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Fingal again advanced his steps, wide through the bosom of night, to where the trees of Loda shook amid squally winds.
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Hie Fingal er-e-hoshiaght reesht, feayn fud oghrish ny hoie, gys raad va biljyn dy Loda er-creau mastey geayaghyn screeagh.
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Three stones, with heads of moss, are there; a stream, with foaming course: and dreadful, rolled round them, is the dark-red cloud of Loda.
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Ta three claghyn, lesh king keynnee, aynshen, - strooan lesh coorse keshagh: as agglagh, rowlit mygeayrt-y-moo, ta’n bodjal jiarg dullyragh dy Loda.
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High from its top looked forward a ghost, half-formed of the shadowy smoke.
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Heose er e vullagh va jeeaghyn magh ny scaan, lieh-cummit lesh jaagh kayagh.
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He poured his voice, at times, amidst the roaring stream.
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Gheayrt eh e choraa, ec keayrtyn, sy mean jeh ny strooanyn buirroogh.
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Near, bending beneath a blasted tree, two heroes received his words:
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Faggys, croymmey fo billey shirkit, hooar daa ghunnalagh e ocklyn:
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