Weep on the rocks of roaring winds
Language: English 
Weep on the rocks of roaring winds, 
O maid of Inistore!
Bend thy fair head over the waves, 
thou lovelier than the ghost of the hills;
when it moves in a sun-beam, at noon, 
over the silence of Morven! 
He is fallen! thy youth is low! 
pale beneath the sword of Cuthullin! 
No more shall valour raise thy love
to match the blood of kings. 
Trenar, graceful Trenar died, 
O maid of Inistore! 
His grey dogs are howling at home;
they see his passing ghost. 
His bow is in the hall unstrung. 
No sound is in the hill of his hinds!

About the headline (FAQ)

Confirmed with The Poems of Ossian. Translated by James Macpherson, Esq; Vol.I. A new edition, carefully corrected, and greatly improved. London, MDCCLXXIII, pages 234-235.


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Research team for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]

Text added to the website: 2004-01-18 00:00:00
Last modified: 2017-06-24 14:12:54
Line count: 16
Word count: 101