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confirmation of their rectitude, the fanction and approbation of more than two thoufand years; and for our giving this flight sketch of them, we hope the learned, to whom it may be useless, will excufe us: we have many Readers who have often heard of them; and, to fuch, this part of the article may be acceptable. We fhall not, for reafons abovementioned, however, apply them too minutely in our ftrictures on the Poem before us; we are nevertheless naturally led, in giving a general idea of the performance, to compare it fometimes, in parallel circumftances, with the works of the Greek and Roman writers; a comparison that can by no means be deemed invidious, as we shall confine it to those parts wherein neither the fuperior education, nor the different manners and customs of the times, afforded them any advantage over our Celtic bard. But if Offian poffeffed the fame degree of genius that infpired an Homer, thofe objects, which presented themselves to the fenfes of the fon of Fingal, will be described with the fame truth and beauty of colouring, that we find in the works of the fon of Mæon: the paffions will be expreffed with like energy; the manners of the times, fimple as they are, will be delineated with fimilar propriety; and the characters of the perfons diftinctly marked, and preferved through the whole, with like precifion and confiftence. These particulars will alfo be combined in fuch a manner, as to make the whole great, interefting, and replete with variety of imagery: that is, in a degree, and so far as the fubject of the Celtic Poet is equally capable of such embellishments with that of the Grecian.

The ftory of this Poem, fays the Tranflator, is fo little interlarded with fable, that one cannot help thinking it the genuine history of Fingal's expedition, embellished by poetry. He fcruples not, however, to affert it to be truly epic, notwithstanding the greatest excellence in that fpecies of compofition, invention, is confeffedly wanting. It is very poffible, nevertheless, that a production may be defective in the fupreme part of compofition, and yet have otherwife great poetical merit. How far the Poem of Fingal affords us proofs of this, will be seen by taking an impartial view of some of its principal beauties and blemishes.

The fubject of it is an invafion of Ireland, by Swaran, King of Lochlin*. Cuchullin, General of the Irish Tribes, during the minority of Cormac, King of Ireland, upon in

* Scandinavia, according to the Tranflator.

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telligence of the invafion, affembled his forces near Tura, a caftle on the coast of Ulfter. The Poem opens with the landing of Swaran; councils are held, battles fought, and Cuchullin is at laft totally defeated. In the mean time, Fingal, King of the Highlands of Scotland, whose aid had been follicited before the enemy landed, arrived, and expelled them from the country. This war, which continued but fix days and as many nights, is, including the epifodes, the whole ftory of the Poem. The scene is the Heath of Lena, near a mountain called Cromleach, in Ulfter.

The Poet begins abruptly, without making any general declaration of his fubject, as is done by Homer and Virgil; but this is not mentioned as an instance of inferiority. " Cuchullin fat by Tura's wall; by the tree of the ruftling leaf.---His fpear leaned against the mofly rock. His fhield lay by him on the grass. As he thought of mighty Carbar, a hero whom he flew in war, &c." ---- Cuchullin, it seems, having intelligence of the intended invafion, had fent forth his fcouts, who were to return, and give him immediate notice, on the appearance of the enemy. In this state of fufpence and expectation, his own fituation, with the difpofition of his arms and armour, is well imagined; but the fubject on which The is ruminating, is lefs happily chofen. A Poet, whofe penetrating genius could place his heroes in the most proper difpofitions of body and mind, would rather have employed him in thinking by what means he might beft defend his country from the foe he hourly expected, than on the paft event of his flaying Carbar. But perhaps it will be faid, that it was natural for Cuchullin to dwell on this pleafing idea, in hopes that Swaran alfo was deftined to fall by his viãorious hand.---Poffibly this is right.

Moran, a scout, returns with an account of Swaran's arrival: "Rife! faid the youth; Cuchullin, rife! I fee the ships of Swaran. Cuchullin! many are the foe; many the heroes of the dark-rolling fea. Moran, replied the blueey'd chief, thou ever trembleft, fon of Fithill; thy fears have much increafed the foe." There is, in our opinion, very little propriety in this anfwer of the chief; indeed, were not the fame mode of expreffion frequently made ufe of in this, and the other Poems in the book, we fhould be apt to imagine the Tranflator had miftaken the fenfe of the word which in the original answers to many, and which had probably been better tranflated numberlefs, or expreffed by fome word REV. Jan. 1762. equivalent:

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equivalent for it is impoffible Cuchullin could expect Swaran would come to invade Ireland alone, or with fewer than many attendants. The fcout proceeds: "I faw their chief, tall as a rock of ice. His fpear is like that blafted fir. His fhield like the rifing moon. He fat on a rock on the fhore; like a cloud of mist on the filent hill.---Many, chief of men! I faid, many are our hands of war.---Well art thou named, the mighty man; but many mighty men are feen from Tura's walls of wind.---He anfwered, like a wave on a rock, Who in this land appears like me? Heroes stand not in my prefence: they fall to earth beneath my hand. None can meet Swaran in the fight but Fingal, King of ftormy hills. Once we wrestled on the heath of Malmor, and our heels overturned the wood. Rocks fell from their place; and rivulets, changing their courfe, fled murmuring from our ftrife. Three days we renewed our ftrife, and heroes stood at a diftance and trembled. On the fourth, Fingal fays, that the King of the Ocean fell; but Swaran fays, he ftood. Let dark Cuchullin yield to him that is ftrong as the storms of Malmor."

The judicious Reader will obferve that, in the redundance of the Poet's fimiles, one follows fo quick as, fometimes, to confound or destroy the effect of the other. Swaran is tall as a rock of ice; and immediately he is defcribed as fitting on a rock on the fhore; like a cloud of mift on a filent hill. Now a rock of ice, whatever beautiful allufion it may give rife to, is not peculiarly taller than any other rock; and as to the cloud of mift, into which he is fo foon converted, it is an univerfal object of fimile with our Poet, and compared to almost every thing. The epithet filent also is here unmeaning, expletive, and puerile. We remember fomewhere to have met with the following lines, wherein a fimilar allufion is better preserved.

Terrible he flood, as a huge rock of ice,
Projecting from the fummit of fome cliff,

Cloud-capt with fogs, and dark'ning all the shore,
With chilling horror.-

The Poet's comparing the fpear of Swaran to the blafted fir, and his fhield to the rifing moon, is indeed beautiful; but Swaran's account of his wrestling with Fingal, is hyperbolical, beyond the extreme of poetic licence.

Quodcunque oflendis mihi fic, incredulus odi.

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To Swaran's demand of Cuchullin's yielding to him, immediately on his landing, the reply of the fon of Semo is animated, great, and becoming an hero. "No, replied the blue-ey'd chief, I will never yield to man. Dark Cuchullin will be great or dead." His order immediately afterwards to ftrike the fhield of war, to call together his heroes, is naturally and beautifully expreffive of that juft and heroic refentment, he might be fuppofed to conceive at fuch an affront. The effects of the found of the fhield, both on animate and inanimate fubjects, are alfo finely reprefented. "He went and ftruck the boffy fhield. The hills and their rocks replied. The found spread along the wood. Deer start by the lake of roes. Curach leapt from the founding rock, and Connal of the bloody fpear. Crugal's breaft of fnow beats high. The son of Favi leaves the dark-brown hind. It is the fhield of war, faid Ronnar, the fpear of Cuchullin, faid Lugar. Son of the fea, put on thy arms! Calmar, lift thy founding ftee!! Puno! horrid hero, rife. Cairbar, from thy red tree of Cromla. Bend thy white knee, O Eth, and defcend from the ftreams of Lena. Ca-olt, ftretch thy white fide as thou moveft along the whistling heath of Mora: thy fide that is white as the foam of the troubled fea, when the dark winds pour it on the murmuring rocks of Cuthona."

The epithets our Poet bestows on his heroes are indeed unpardonable, not one of them being defcribed by any corporeal or mental qualification, that might denote the warrior, or diftinguish them from each other; not lefs than three of them being characterized by the fame mark of effiminacy, whiteness of skin. Their coming on, however, in obedience to the call of war, is lively and picturesque.

"Now I behold the chiefs in the pride of their former deeds; their fouls are kindled at the battles of old, and the actions of other times. Their eyes are like flames of fire, and roll in fearch of the foes of the land. Their mighty hands are on their fwords, and lightening pours from their fides of fteel. They came like ftreams from the mountains; each rushed roaring from his hill. Bright are the chiefs of battle in the armour of their fathers. Gloomy and dark their heroes followed, like the gathering of the rainy clouds behind the red meteors of heaven. The founds of crashing arms afcend. The gray dogs howl between. Unequally burfts the fong of battle, and rocking Cromla echoes round."

This is truly grand and fublime, the fimilies being juft, and aptly illuftrating the figures they accompany. E 2

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- The heroes arriving, a council of war is held among the chiefs, of whom Cuchullin, Connal, and Calmar, are the only perfons who fpeak: the first, though he had determined to oppofe Swaran, afking the advice of the reft, whether they fhould fight, or give up their country to the foe? The fecond, like a magnanimous hero, is for giving the enemy their wealth and half the land, for a truce till Fingal should arrive with fuccours. This propofal the spirited Calmar treats with difdain, and no further debate is held about the matter. Neither the arguments, which would naturally have arifen from the fenfations of brave men, nor those which reafon must neceffarily dictate, were made ufe of. Calmar urges not the scandal of tamely giving up their country without engaging in arms, nor Cuchullin the abfurdity of parting with half the kingdom, without conteft, at the moment of expecting fuccour. The Reader will do well to compare this council with that called by Agamemnon, in which it is debated whether or not the Greeks fhould return home from the fiege of Troy.

War being refolved on, Cuchullin orders a review of his tribes, enquiring, in the mean time, after three other heroes, two of which, Cathbat and Duchomar, are killed; and the third, Fergus, comes in luckily at the moment when he is afked for, to tell the story of their death; which, with the fate of Morna, is the fubject of the firft episode in the piece. Its introduction, however, appears both unnatural in itself, and unartful in the Poet, it seeming a little improbable to us, that Cuchullin fhould not before have heard of the fate of the two heroes at leaft his afking Fergus if they fell by the fons of Lochlin, ftriving in the battle of heroes, carries with it a manifeft impropriety, fince he could not but know there had been as yet no engagement. From the tale of Fergus we learn, that Duchomar had flain Cathbat; that Morna, beloved by the latter, had flain the former, and that, just before Duchomar expired, he had flain her.

We fhall enter a little particularly into the probability of the circumstances, juftnefs of imagery, and propriety of fentiment contained in this epifode. Duchomar, it seems, having flain Cathbat, the lover of Morna, returns, with a prefent of a ftately deer, to the maid, and follicits her love. Morna tells him, however, that the loves him not; that Cathbat, the fon of Torman was her love, and that she then waited his coming. To which the gloomy Duchomar anfwers, "And long fhall Morna wait; his blood is on my fword:

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