She was like the new moon seen through the
gathered
mist, when the sky
pours down its flaky snow and the world is silent and dark.
pours down its flaky snow and the world is silent and dark.
World's Greatest Books - Volume 17 - Poetry and Drama
Three days I remained
in Reuthamir's halls, and saw his daughter--that beam of light. Her
eyes were like the stars of night. My love for Moina was great; my
heart poured forth in joy.
"The son of a stranger came--a chief who loved the white-bosomed Moina.
The strength of his pride arose. We fought; he fell beneath my sword.
The banks of Clutha heard his fall, a thousand spears glittered around.
I fought; the strangers prevailed. I plunged into the stream of Clutha.
My white sails rose over the waves, and I bounded on the dark-blue sea.
Moina came to the shore, her loose hair flew on the wind, and I heard
her mournful, distant cries. Often did I turn my ship, but the winds of
the east prevailed. Nor Clutha ever since have I seen, nor Moina of the
dark-brown hair. She fell in Balclutha, for I have seen her ghost. I
knew her as she came through the dusky night, along the murmur of Lora.
She was like the new moon seen through the gathered mist, when the sky
pours down its flaky snow and the world is silent and dark. "
"Raise, ye bards," said the mighty Fingal, "the praise of unhappy
Moina. "
The night passed away in song; morning returned in joy. The mountains
showed their grey heads; the blue face of ocean smiled. But as the sun
rose on the sea Fingal and his heroes beheld a distant fleet. Like a
mist on the ocean came the strange ships, and discharged their youth
upon the coast. Carthon, their chief, was among them, like the stag in
the midst of the herd. He was a king of spears, and as he moved towards
Selma his thousands moved behind him.
"Go, with a song of peace," said Fingal. "Go, Ullin, to the king of
spears. Tell him that the ghosts of our foes are many; but renowned are
they who have feasted in my halls! "
When Ullin came to the mighty Carthon, he raised the song of peace.
"Come to the feast of Fingal, Carthon, from the rolling sea! Partake of
the feast of the king, or lift the spear of war. Behold that field, O
Carthon. Many a green hill rises there, with mossy stones and rustling
grass.
in Reuthamir's halls, and saw his daughter--that beam of light. Her
eyes were like the stars of night. My love for Moina was great; my
heart poured forth in joy.
"The son of a stranger came--a chief who loved the white-bosomed Moina.
The strength of his pride arose. We fought; he fell beneath my sword.
The banks of Clutha heard his fall, a thousand spears glittered around.
I fought; the strangers prevailed. I plunged into the stream of Clutha.
My white sails rose over the waves, and I bounded on the dark-blue sea.
Moina came to the shore, her loose hair flew on the wind, and I heard
her mournful, distant cries. Often did I turn my ship, but the winds of
the east prevailed. Nor Clutha ever since have I seen, nor Moina of the
dark-brown hair. She fell in Balclutha, for I have seen her ghost. I
knew her as she came through the dusky night, along the murmur of Lora.
She was like the new moon seen through the gathered mist, when the sky
pours down its flaky snow and the world is silent and dark. "
"Raise, ye bards," said the mighty Fingal, "the praise of unhappy
Moina. "
The night passed away in song; morning returned in joy. The mountains
showed their grey heads; the blue face of ocean smiled. But as the sun
rose on the sea Fingal and his heroes beheld a distant fleet. Like a
mist on the ocean came the strange ships, and discharged their youth
upon the coast. Carthon, their chief, was among them, like the stag in
the midst of the herd. He was a king of spears, and as he moved towards
Selma his thousands moved behind him.
"Go, with a song of peace," said Fingal. "Go, Ullin, to the king of
spears. Tell him that the ghosts of our foes are many; but renowned are
they who have feasted in my halls! "
When Ullin came to the mighty Carthon, he raised the song of peace.
"Come to the feast of Fingal, Carthon, from the rolling sea! Partake of
the feast of the king, or lift the spear of war. Behold that field, O
Carthon. Many a green hill rises there, with mossy stones and rustling
grass.
