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REV. THOMAS R )SS, LL.D.

1769_1043.

THE following is extracted from a manuscript translation of Ossian's Poems by the late Dr. Ross, of Lochbroom, Ross-shire, Scotland. The manuscripts are now in possession of his son-in-law, the Rev. Mr. Thomson, of New York. Dr. Ross was regarded as the most accomplished Gaelic scholar of his day; his translation of the Psalms of David into the Gaelic language, is now the one in general use in the churches in the Highlands of Scotland. It is not now needful to revive the old controversy respecting the Ossianic poems. That Ossian as a poet, and that Fingal, as one of his chief heroes, were known in Scotland centuries before M'Pherson's birth, may be learned from Barbour and others of the ancient Scottish bards whose works are still extant, and that the songs of the bard should be transmitted from generation to generation, even though unwritten, is no greater wonder than that the Iliad or Odyssey should have passed from sire to son during the four hundred years that elapsed from their first utterance by the poet to their collection in their present form. Nor was MPherson's the first attempt to collect the poems of the immortal bard. Previous to the year 1760, Rev. John Farquharson, of Strathglars, had collected, during a residence of thirty years in that district, compositions in the Gaelic language sufficient to fill a large folio three inches thick. Having removed from Strathglass to Douay, he carried his collection with him, and while there, the first edition of M'Pherson 3 translation was published in England. Farquharson obtained a copy of the translation, and spent much of his time in comparing it with the original collection by bimself. There exists no probability that M'Phs son ever met Farqu

harson, or that the collection of the latter was known to or seen by the former; and yet when Farquharson compared M'Pherson's translation with the original in his own possession, he was never heard to impugn the accuracy or fidelity of the translation, although he often declared that the translation fell far short of the spirit and strength of the original. Changed as is the state of the Scottish highlands from what it was a century ago, it would be easy for one acquainted with the Gaelic language to collect and then translate detached poems of a very ancient caste, not inferior to any which have been already given to the public. This may seem strange to those possessed of a written language and literature, and who have not consid ered the power of memory where an active and earnest mind has no such possession, or where, though it may exist, from lack of early instruction it cannot be enjoyed. In the highlands of Scotland, one may meet with men and women who have no English, and who cannot read the Gaelic, who are yet so thoroughly acquainted with the Holy Scriptures as to be able to give chapter and verse for any passage quoted, and to correct the slightest error made in quotation. Nothing to them is more distasteful than to hear misquotations, or to meet with a minister who cannot quote with accuracy and readiness.

It is surprising that while the translation of Ossian by M'Pherson, defective as it is proved to be, should have been itself translated into the different languages of continental Europe, and has been hailed as a work of highest merit, and entitled to the greatest praise, doubts should still linger in the minds of Britons, both as to the existence of Ossian the bard, and the honor and honesty of the translator. Dr. Ross, was requested by the Highland Society of London to translate from the original Gaelic, which he had transcribed for the Society, from the first book of Fingal. And in the first volume of the edition of Ossian published under their sanction, the reader will find his translation of the first book placed parallel to M'Pherson's. Concerning Dr. Ross's translation, Miss Baillie, the distinguished authoress, observes, "The language of the new translation appears less pompous, more simple, and more appropriate than that of M'Pherson. I am sure that a poem in imitation of M'Pherson's translation, would be a much more easy task to compose than one in imitation of the new translation."

CARRIE - I HURA.—Extract.

FINGAL.

Ye voices of loud-sounding Cona,

Ye bards who speak of the past,
In whose souls ascend on high

The illustrious deeds of blue-armed heroes;
O Cronan, son of gentle sounds,

O Minon, who lightly touchest the harp,
Raise a tale concerning dark-brown Shilric
To the king of hills and deserts.

Let the lovely Ninvela come,

Like the showery bow along the vale,
When it shews its arch on high,

And the sun is retiring behind the hills.
But yonder is the maid, O king of spears,
With feeble voice immersed in grief.

NINVELA.

My love is of the race of the hills;
A great hunter of the dusky mountains:
His stag-hounds pant by his side;

His slender bow-string sounds in the wind.

Hast thou sat by the fountain of the rocks,
Or by the great swoln stream of the hill?
Observed the rush bending beneath the breeze
And the mist rising on the mountain side?
But I will approach my love in secret;
I shall scan my hero from the rock.
O, when I saw the youths on high
By the oak of the loud streaming Branno,
Thou wast returning stately from the hill,
Far surpassing in comeliness thy people.

SHILRIC.

What voice is this so sweet in my ear,
A voice sweet as the summer breeze?
But far, Ninvela, far away

Is my course, to the war with Fingal.

There shall I not see from the heights of the hills

My fair maid of the locks on the plain;

But by the falling stream alone;

Like the bow bending in the skies,

Or the moon on the western wave.

NINVELA.

Thou art gone! O Shilric, thou art gone!
And I am alone on the hill!

The deer is seen on the mountain brow,
Without a man to chase him from the grass.
The mighty hunter is departed from the wood;

He is in the field of graves.

O ye strangers, race of the waves,

Spare, O spare the hero in the field!

SHILRIC.

If I fall in the plain, Ninvela,
Kindly do thou raise high my tomb-
Gray stones and a heap of dust,
To point out thy lover Ninvela.
That when the hunter sits by my side,
He will say, "A hero is in the heath,
Some man of renown, not feeble in battle."
Remember thy warrior, Ninvela

When in thy narrow house of death.

NINVELA.

Yes, thou shalt be remembered!

If my brave Shilric shall fall on the field? Where, my love, shall I be found on the hill, If thou return not from the stroke of death! My wanderings shall be among the rocky dens: My steps shall be far from the abodes of men, Languid and solitary among the hills.

Sure Shilric will fall on the field.

But I will remember the hero.

"I too remember the chief,"

Said the king of the lofty woods and hills;
He consumed the battle in his rage;

He is not beneath my eye in the chase..

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