1805.6
From an Unpublished Poem.
Ascribed to Ossian
“T.”
The Morning Chronicle (September 19, 1805)

Oh! burn the tall heath which now waves in the gale;
Let nought but the war songs of ODIN prevail;
The prows of the Stranger now swell the green wave,
Unsheath then, ye Heroes, the sword of the brave!
Chace the Deer of black MORVERN far from the shore—
'Till the Banquet of DEATH and ODIN is o'er.
Ye Bards, sing the deeds of our fathers of old,
And rouse to new glory the brave and the bold.

Strike the harp ye Daughters of MOINA'S green Isle,
Let the Warriors rejoice in Beauty's soft smile,
Swell the strings with the deeds of FINGAL'S brave line;
Their names through the darkness of ages shall shine!
Strike the spear on the ground, the signal of war,
The shell of brave CAIRBAR resounds from afar;
The heroes shall start from the heath-cover'd cell,
Determin'd to fall as their forefathers fell.

Bend the bow, ye huntsmen of Colna's dark plain;
Rejoice in the strength of your arrows again,—
The spears of the Strangers now darken the sky—
Thrice the Eagle hath shriek'd—dread Odin is nigh!
Then burn the tall heath which now waves in the gale,
Let nought but the war songs of Odin prevail,
The prows of the Stranger now swell the green wave,
Unsheath then, ye heroes, the Sword of the Brave!