The enquirer. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1804-1815, 1805-12-19
TIE DEATH OF cuTHuLt.IN.

THE DEATH OF CuTHuLIIN.
Do winds on F;ngal's fhield refoupd,
Or in my hall do voices fonnd,
Offormer times? Sing on, fweee voice,
Thy mniic makes my foul rejoice,
Sing on, Bragela, l delight
To hear thy lovely foug by night.
lis nothing but the t~urnbling waves,
All white with foam, where ocean aves
The craggy rocks. 'Tis not a fail,
Expanded by the fouthern gale,
To bring Cuthullin to our fhore.
Ye nias, deceive my eyes no more,
AS round iome hero's ghoR ye rife
And lpread your grey Gkirts to the ikies.
Why dolt thou, fon of Srmo, aay,
And thy return 70 long delay! r..
Four times has thadowy autump's breezs
Arou(ed Togorma's' renlefs feas,
Since thou half been amida the war,
And thou Bragela difiant far.
Ye hills with vapours cloth'd on high,
When will ye to his hounds reply
But dark and flent ye remain;
And fad Bragela calls in vain.
Now night comes rolling Down the ky ;
The iea no longer meers The eye /;
The heath-cock's wing now fhrouds his head;
The hind aeeps on a CRAFTY bed,
Befde the bart with mornings beam
They'll rife, and feed befde the Rream.
But tears to me return with light;
MY Gghs come on with flent night.
When wilt thou come, and end my cares,
Cuthullin, chief Of Eriu's wars :"
How ~pleafant is thy voice of grief,
Daughter of Sorg!an, car-borne chief
But to the hall of GIells retire
Where flames of burning oak afpire;
There lilen to the murmuring fea,
That ruIhing rolls around Dunfeai;
Let fleep defend on thy blue eyes,
And in thy dreams thy hero rife.
Where Lsgo's fable waves refonnd
Cuthuiiin fits, and night around
His thoufands fpread along the plain ;
a hundred oaks blaze bright bet ween
The feat of fhells is fmoking there ;
Old Carril, with his long grey hair,
Uplifted by the rualiug breeze,
Awakes the harp beneath the trees
His fong is of iogor1na's land;
And of its chief Cuthullin's friend.
"Why Connal, why art thou away
In Il dark gloomy Rormy day
The iouthern chiefs their force convene,
Againt the car-borne Cormac'sreigD,
The winds detain thee, not thy foul
Around thy ile blue waters roll.
But Cormac is not left alone;
His wars are fought by Semo's fon +;
Cuthullin leads his warlike bands,
The terror of the diflant lands;
Like deaths dark cloud, that Gow!y fies,'
BY fultry winds borne thro' the kies,
Aslowi it moves, the fun grows red,
And all around, it ftrews the dead"
or Carrils fong fuch was the theme,
When from the foe a meffage came.
His ~pointleis Ipear the bard extends,
And fpeaks the words that Torlath tends.
Brave Torlath, chief Of Lego's lands,
Who led TO war the fouthern bands,
Againf young Cormac, who AFR
In fair Tenorat learned war
To beud his fathers ~forceful bow,
And the bright beaming lpear to throw;
But long thou didR not life the fpear,
Mild beam of youth, dim death Rands near.
The moons dark half thus feenls, by night,
To threaten its fair growing light.
Before the bard Cuthullin Glands;
The fhell of Joy gives with his hands.
80 bard" he faid, " what are the words
ofgenerous Torlath, chief Of f~ordsi
Comes he to wage the hrife of death,
Or to our feat fpread on the heath ,"
He comes" reply'd the bard I" to war,
Where founding fpears fly thro' the air.
When Lego fees the mornings light,
Upon the plain will Torlath fight,
Say wilt thou NEE, his dreadful fpeari
lis like a meteor Of the air
Bright filming on the nightly Ky.
He liftsi it and the people die"
Sweet voice of Lego, do ! fear"
Cuthullin fsid, " the hero's fpearl
His valor is admir'd afar
But bard, my foul delights in war.
Cuthullin's fword refs not from fight
1t longs to glitter in the light.
BY Lego's lake, the mornings beam,
Shall on CuthuIlin's armour gleam.
But fit thou on the heath D bard
And let thy tuneful voice be heard (;
Partake thou Of the fhell OF joys,
And hear Temora's fongs ariie."
"Tbis !, no time, " he made reply"
To hear Temora's fongs Of Joy
When, like the Rrength Of Lego's aream,
The alighty are in war to CLEAN.
Why art thou dark, Slinora's hill,
With all thy Client woods 70 ailli
No moon nor far lends thee array,
To Eight the nightly wand'rer's way
But deaths pale meteors are nigh
And form, Of ghoAs around thee hy.
Why art thou dark, Slimors's hill,
With all thy 6lent woods 70 Gill :"
One efBs Ba6ridy.
-. 49, ILL.,.