ARGUMENTAddress to the evening star. An apostrophe to Fingal and his times. Minonasings before the king the song of the unfortunate Colma; and the bards exhibitother specimens of their poetical talents; according to an annual customestablished by the monarchs of the ancient Caledonians.
Star of descending night! fair is thy light in the west! thou liftest thyunshorn head from thy cloud: thy steps are stately on thy hill. Whatdost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmurof the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock.The flies of evening are on their feeble wings; the hum of their course ison the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smileand depart. The waves come with joy around thee: they bathe thylovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam! Let the light of Ossian's soularise!
And it does arise in its strength! I behold my departed friends.Their gathering is on Lora, as in the days of other years. Fingal comeslike a watry column of mist; his heroes are around: And see the bardsof song, grey-haired Ullin! stately Ryno! Alpin, with the tuneful voice!the soft complaint of Minona! How are ye changed, my friends, sincethe days of Selma's feast? when we contended, like gales of spring, as theyfly along the hill, and bend by turns the feebly-whistling grass.
Minona came forth in her beauty; with down-cast look and tearfuleye. Her hair flew slowly on the blast, that rushed unfrequent from thehill. The souls of the heroes were sad when she raised the tuneful voice.Often had they seen the grave of Salgar, the dark dwelling of white-bosomed Colma. Colma left alone on the hill, with all her voice of song!Salgar promised to come: but the night descended around. Hear thevoice of Colma, when she sat alone on the hill!
It is night; I am alone, forlorn on the hills of storms. The wind isheard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut re-ceives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds!
Rise, moon! from behind thy clouds. Stars of the night arise! Leadme, some light, to the place, where my love rests from the chace alone! hisbow near him, unstrung: his dogs panting around him. But here I mustsit alone, by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roaraloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar, why thechief of the hill, his promise? Here is the rock, and here the tree! hereis the roaring stream! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah!whither is my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly, from my father; withthee, from my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes; we are notfoes, O Salgar!
Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let myvoice be heard around. Let my wanderer hear me! Salgar! it is Colmawho calls. Here is the tree, and the rock. Salgar, my love! I am here.Why delayest thou thy coming? Lo! the calm moon comes forth. Theflood is bright in the vale. The rocks are grey on the steep. I see himnot on the brow. His dogs come not before him, with tidings of his nearapproach. Here I must sit alone!
Who lie on the heath beside me? Are they my love and my brother?Speak to me, O my friends! To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me:I am alone! My soul is tormented with fears! Ah! they are dead!Their swords are red from the fight. O my brother! my brother! whyhast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother?Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wertfair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me;hear my voice; hear me, sons of my love! They are silent; silent for ever!Cold, cold are their breasts of clay! Oh! from the rock on the hill; fromthe top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead! speak, I will notbe afraid! Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall Ifind the departed? No feeble voice is on the gale: no answer half-drownedin the storm!
I sit in my grief! I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, yefriends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies awaylike a dream: why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with myfriends, by the stream of the sounding rock. When night comes on thehill; when the loud winds arise; my ghost shall stand in the blast, andmourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth.He shall fear but love my voice! For sweet shall my voice be for myfriends: pleasant were her friends to Colma!
Such was thy song, Minona, softly-blushing daughter of Torman.Our tears descended for Colma, and our souls were sad! Ullin came withhis harp; he gave the song of Alpin. The voice of Alpin was pleasant:the soul of Ryno was a beam of fire! But they had rested in the narrowhouse: their voice had ceased in Selma. Ullin had returned, one day,from the chace, before the heroes fell. He heard their strife on the hill;their song was soft but sad! They mourned the fall of Morar, first ofmortal men! His soul was like the soul of Fingal; his sword like thesword of Oscar. But he fell, and his father mourned: his sister's eyeswere full of tears. Minona's eyes were full of tears, the sister of carborneMorar. She retired from the song of Ullin, like the moon in the west,when she foresees the shower, and hides her fair head in a cloud. Itouched the harp, with Ullin; the song of mourning rose!
