CONNAL, CRIMORA,
CRIMORA.
Who cometh from the hill, like
a cloud tinged with the beam
of the west? Whose voice is that, loud
as the wind, but pleasant as the harp of
Carryl? It is my love in the light of
steel; but sad is his darkened brow.
Live the mighty race of Fingal? or
what disturbs my Connal?
CONNAL.
They live. I saw them return from
the chace, like a stream of light. The
sun was on their shields: In a line they
descended the hill. Loud is the voice of
the youth; the war, my love, is near.
To-morrow the enormous Dargo comes
to try the force of our race. The race of
Fingal he defies; the race of battle and
wounds.
CRIMORA.
Connal, I saw his sails like grey mist
on the sable wave. They came to land.
Connnal, many are the warriors of
Dargo!
CONNAL.
Bring me thy father's shield; the iron
shield of Rinval; that shield like the
full moon when it is darkened in the
sky.
CRIMORA.
That shield I bring, O Connal; but
it did not defend my father. By the
spear of Gauror he fell. Thou mayst
fall, O Connal!
CONNAL.
Fall indeed I may: But raise my
tomb, Crimora. Some stones, a mound
of earth, shall keep my memory.
Though fair thou art, my love, as the
light; more pleasant than the gale of
the hill; yet I will not stay. Raise my
tomb, Crimora.
CRIMORA,
Then give me those arms of light;
that sword, and that spear of steel. I
shall meet Dargo with thee, and aid my
lovely Connal. Farewell, ye rocks of
Ardven! ye deer! and ye streams of
the hill!--We shall return no more.
Our tombs are distant far.