Rocks tumble from their places on high;
the green-headed bushes are overturned. At length the strength
of Swaran fell; the king of the groves is bound."
The warriors of Swaran fled then, pursued by the sons of Fingal,
till the hero bade the fighting cease, and darkness once more
fell over the dreadful field.
"The clouds of night come rolling down. Darkness rests on the
steeps of Cromla. The stars of the north arise over the rolling
of Erin's waves: they shew their heads of fire, through the
flying mist of heaven. A distant wind roars in the wood. Silent
and dark is the plain of death."
Then through the darkness is heard the sad song of minstrels
mourning for the dead. But soon the scene changes and mourning
is forgotten.
"The heroes gathered to the feast. A thousand aged oaks are
burning to the wind. The souls of warriors brighten with joy.
But the king of Lochlin (Swaran) is silent. Sorrow reddens in
his eyes of pride. He remembered that he fell.
"Fingal leaned on the shield of his fathers.
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