With focks expos'd to every guft of wind,
And tearful eye, that spoke her anxious mind,
Stood forth, the tale of hapless love to fing;
To footh the foul of Morven's mighty king.
The feaft forgot, the chiefs no more rejoice;
But mournful liften to her plaintive voice.
For well they knew where Salgar's* corfe was laid,
And Colma st tomb, the fnow-white-bofom'd maid.
Hard was her lot, fair virgin! all alone,

On mountain wilds to vent her fruitless moan;
To chide her lover's abfence, as unkind,
And wafte her voice of music in the wind:
With tears of death, in anguifh, to deplore
Her fallen friends, who rife, alas! no more.

Her fad complaint the fair Minona fung,
In words that dropp'd from Colma's tuneful tongue.

Why Salgar murder'd on the plain,

By one to me fo near?

Friends of my choice! how lov'd were both!
Who now your fame shall raife?
Who fing my lover's plighted troth;
My brother's fong of praife?

Of thoufands lovely, Salgar's face
Was lovelieft to the fight:
Renown'd my brother for the chace,
And terrible in fight.

Sons of my love! fpeak, once again-
Ah no!- -to death a prey.
Silent they are, and must remain;
For cold their breafts of clay.

But are their fleeting fpirits fled
Acrofs the plain fo foon?

Or fhun the fhadows of the dead,
The glimpfes of the moon?

Speak, where on rock, or mountain grave,

Still clafh your fouls of fire,

Or reconcil'd, in fome dark cave

Your peaceful ghosts retire.

Ah! where her friends fhall Colma find?
Hark-No-they're filent ftill-
No muttering anfwer brings the wind;
No whisper o'er the hill.

Fearless, yet over-whelm'd with grief,

I fit all night in tears;

Hopeless of comfort or relief,

When morning light appears.

Yet, raife, ye friends of thefe, the dead;
On this fad fpot their tomb;

But clofe not up their narrow bed,
'Till hapless Colma come.

For why behind them fhould we stay,

Whofe life is now a dream?

Together here our corfes lay,

Befide the murmuring ftream.

Sa

So fhall my fhivering ghoft be feen,
Lamenting o'er the flain;

As homeward hies the hunter keen,
Benighted on the plain.

Ye fhall he, fearless, pafs along,
And lend his listening ear:

For fweet, though fad, fhall be my fong,
For friends I lov'd fo dear.

This Colma's plaint; and thus with mufic's tongue,
The fweetly blufhing maid of Torman fung,
The foft Minona: while her fluttering breast
Bespoke an heart with tender grief opprefs'd;
The fympathetic forrow catch'd around,
And heroes dropp'd their tears upon the ground.

Next Ullin came and touch'd the founding ftring,
And Alpin's well-known fong ftood up to fing:
That fong the tuneful bard to Ryno fung,
When Ryno liv'd to hear his tuneful tongue :
Heard now no more! for, in their lowly bed,
Both reft in filence, flumbering with the dead.
But ere they fell, as Ullin took his way,
Home from the chace, he heard, and caught, the lay.
All fad, they fung behind the rolling ftream;
Morar, the first of men, their mournful theme.
Morar, whofe foul with Fingal's might compare!
Whofe fword, like Ofcar's fword, a meteor in the air.
But ah! he fell; his fire, bent down with years,
And blooming fifter fhedding fruitless tears,
Minona fair, who now forfook the throng,
Her heart too full to lift to Ullin's fong.
So, when the shower-prefaging winds are loud,
The moon retires between the western cloud.

To raise the fong, did I in concert join;
Mixing the founds of Ullin's harp with mine.

The following Letter is inserted at the Request of a Correspondent to whom we are under Obligations.

Norris, Efq. of Barton in the county of Norfolk.

He was a young gentleman, who, with an elegant tafie for the polite arts, had penetrated far into the abftrufe fciences. When he took his degree of bachelor of arts, he was among the first on whom the univerfity conferred its honours for their inathematical knowledge, and was second to none in defert. He last year obtained the middle bachelors prize for the beft compofition in Latin profe, and the fable of the rainbow was one of his firft productions in English verfe.

This

The poem, which stands firft in order as well as merit in the collection, is named from the prin cipal hero of it, Fingal. celebrated chief, influenced by the courage and generofity fo eminent in his character, leads his warriors from the Highlands of Scotland, and among them his fon Offen the poet, to aid the infant king of Ireland, whofe dominions, then under the guardianship of Cuchullin, were invaded by Swaran king of Scandinavia; the moft terrible warrior of his time, and the very reverfe of Fingal in every thing but perfonal valour. Immediately before the arrival of Fingal, the forces commanded by Cuchullin are defeated near Tura on the coaft of Ulfter. And whilft this gallant leader, regardless of his own fafety, takes every meafure which bravery or defpair can fuggeft to repel his enemy; the fhips of Fingal are defcryed, and

ROM the publication of thefe extraordinary poems, the ingenious editor has a double claim to literary applaufe. One, as having with equal induftry and tafte recovered from the obfcurity or barLarifin, the ruft of fifteen hundred years, and the left breath of a dying language, thefe ineftimable relicks of the genuine fpirit of poetry and the other, for prefenting them to the world in an English translation, whofe expreffive fingularly evidently retains the majelick air, and native fimplicity of a fublime original. The venerable autor, and his elegant tranflator, thus have mutually conferred immortality on each other. The difcrtation prefixed to thefe poems, is for its curious matter, inferted in another part of this work.