Poem X
It is night; and I am alone, forlornon the hill of storms. The wind isheard in the mountain. The torrentshrieks down the rock. No hut receivesme from the rain; forlorn on the hill ofwinds.
Rise, moon! from behind thyclouds; stars of the night, appear!Lead me, some light, to the place wheremy love rests from the toil of the chase!his bow near him, unstrung; his dogspanting around him. But here I mustsit alone, by the rock of the mossystream. The stream and the windroar; nor can I hear the voice of mylove.
Why delayeth my Shalgar, why theson of the hill, his promise? Here isthe rock; and the tree; and here theroaring stream. Thou promisedst withnight to be here. Ah! whither is myShalgar gone? With thee I would flymy father; with thee, my brother ofpride. Our race have long been foes;but we are not foes, O Shalgar!
Cease a little while, O wind! stream,be thou silent a while! let my voice beheard over the heath; let my wandererhear me. Shalgar! it is I who call. Hereis the tree, and the rock. Shalgar, mylove! I am here. Why delayest thouthy coming? Alas! no answer.
Lo! the moon appeareth. Theflood is bright in the vale. The rocksare grey on the face of the hill. ButI see him not on the brow; his dogsbefore him tell not that he is coming.Here I must sit alone.
But who are these that lie beyondme on the heath? Are they my loveand my brother?--Speak to me, O myfriends! they answer not. My soul istormented with fears.--Ah! they aredead. Their swords are red from thefight. O my brother! my brother!why hast thou slain my Shalgar? why,O Shalgar! hast thou slain my brother?Dear were ye both to me! speak to me;hear my voice, sons of my love! Butalas! they are silent; silent for ever!Cold are their breast of clay!
Oh! from the rock of the hill;from the top of the mountain of winds,speak ye ghosts of the dead! speak,and I will not be afraid.--Whitherare ye gone to rest? In what cave ofthe hill shall I find you?
I sit in my grief. I wait for morningin my tears. Rear the tomb, yefriends of the dead; but close it nottill I come. My life flieth away like adream: why should I stay behind?Here shall I rest with my friends by thestream of the founding rock. Whennight comes on the hill: when the windis up on the heath; my ghost shall standin the wind, and mourn the death ofmy friends. The hunter shall hearfrom his booth. He shall fear, butlove my voice. For sweet shall my voicebe for my friends; for pleasant werethey both to me.
Words in this poem
- forlorn a.
- Deserted abandoned; lost. [OE., p.p. of forlesen to lose utterly, AS. forleósan (p.p. forloren); pref. for- + leósan (in comp.) to lose; cf. D. verliezen to lose, G. verlieren, Sw. förlor]
- whither adv.
- To what place; -- used interrogatively; as, whither goest thou [OE. whider. AS. hwider; akin to E. where, who; cf. Goth. hvadre whither. See Who, and cf. Hither, Thither.]
- vale n.
- A tract of low ground, or of land between hills; a valley. [OE. val, F. val, L. vallis; perhaps akin to Gr. Avalanche, Vail to lower, Valley.]
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- ghost n.
- The spirit; the soul of man. [OE. gast, gost, soul, spirit, AS. gast breath, spirit, soul; akin to OS. g spirit, soul, D. geest, G. geist, and prob. to E. gaze, ghastly.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Poem X is in the public domain. This text is taken from Fragments of Ancient Poetry, Project Gutenberg ebook #8161; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: James Macpherson, Poem X, in Fragments of Ancient Poetry (1760), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #8161, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/macpherson-ossian/poem-x.html, id L09649.
Form and metre
Poem X is 72 lines in 8 stanzas. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 75%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.0 syllables. 10 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 69% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 2 ABB-----A- thyA · appearB · whereB · chase · dogs · must · mossy · wind · myA · love
- 3 A-A-BB--- theA · is · theA · with · myB · flyB · of · foes · shalgar
- 4 -A--A-- stream · beA · wanderer · here · myA · thou · answer
- 6 --A--BCACB--- beyond · love · myA · is · are · theB · brotherC · whyA · brotherC · meB · but · ever · clay
- 8 -A--BA-B------A morning · yeA · not · a · behindB · theA · when · windB · stand · of · hear · but · voice · were · meA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| It is night; and I am alone, forlorn | 10 | ······˘/˘/ |
| on the hill of storms. The wind is | 8 | ········ |
| heard in the mountain. The torrent | 8 | ···/˘·/˘ |
| shrieks down the rock. No hut receives | 8 | ······˘/ |
| me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| winds. | 1 | · |
| Rise, moon! from behind thy | 6 | ······ |
| clouds; stars of the night, appear! | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Lead me, some light, to the place where | 8 | ········ |
| my love rests from the toil of the chase! | 9 | ········· |
| his bow near him, unstrung; his dogs | 8 | ········ |
| panting around him. But here I must | 9 | /˘······· |
| sit alone, by the rock of the mossy | 10 | ·˘/·····/˘ |
| stream. The stream and the wind | 6 | ······ |
| roar; nor can I hear the voice of my | 9 | ········· |
| love. | 1 | · |
| Why delayeth my Shalgar, why the | 9 | ·˘/˘····· |
| son of the hill, his promise? Here is | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| the rock; and the tree; and here the | 8 | ········ |
| roaring stream. Thou promisedst with | 8 | /˘······ |
| night to be here. Ah! whither is my | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| Shalgar gone? With thee I would fly | 8 | ········ |
| my father; with thee, my brother of | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| pride. Our race have long been foes; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| but we are not foes, O Shalgar! | 8 | ········ |
| Cease a little while, O wind! stream, | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| be thou silent a while! let my voice be | 10 | ··/˘······ |
| heard over the heath; let my wanderer | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| hear me. Shalgar! it is I who call. Here | 10 | ·········· |
| is the tree, and the rock. Shalgar, my | 9 | ········· |
| love! I am here. Why delayest thou | 9 | ·····˘/˘· |
| thy coming? Alas! no answer. | 8 | ·/˘˘/·/˘ |
| Lo! the moon appeareth. The | 7 | ···˘/˘· |
| flood is bright in the vale. The rocks | 8 | ········ |
| are grey on the face of the hill. But | 9 | ········· |
| I see him not on the brow; his dogs | 9 | ········· |
| before him tell not that he is coming. | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Here I must sit alone. | 6 | ····˘/ |
| But who are these that lie beyond | 8 | ········ |
| me on the heath? Are they my love | 8 | ········ |
| and my brother?--Speak to me, O my | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| friends! they answer not. My soul is | 8 | ··/˘···· |
| tormented with fears.--Ah! they are | 8 | /·˘····· |
| dead. Their swords are red from the | 7 | ······· |
| fight. O my brother! my brother! | 8 | ···/˘·/˘ |
| why hast thou slain my Shalgar? why, | 8 | ········ |
| O Shalgar! hast thou slain my brother? | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Dear were ye both to me! speak to me; | 9 | ········· |
| hear my voice, sons of my love! But | 8 | ········ |
| alas! they are silent; silent for ever! | 11 | ˘/··/˘/˘·/˘ |
| Cold are their breast of clay! | 6 | ······ |
| Oh! from the rock of the hill; | 7 | ······· |
| from the top of the mountain of winds, | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| speak ye ghosts of the dead! speak, | 7 | ······· |
| and I will not be afraid.--Whither | 9 | ·····˘//˘ |
| are ye gone to rest? In what cave of | 9 | ········· |
| the hill shall I find you? | 6 | ······ |
| I sit in my grief. I wait for morning | 10 | ········/˘ |
| in my tears. Rear the tomb, ye | 7 | ······· |
| friends of the dead; but close it not | 8 | ········ |
| till I come. My life flieth away like a | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| dream: why should I stay behind? | 7 | ······· |
| Here shall I rest with my friends by the | 9 | ········· |
| stream of the founding rock. When | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| night comes on the hill: when the wind | 8 | ········ |
| is up on the heath; my ghost shall stand | 9 | ········· |
| in the wind, and mourn the death of | 8 | ········ |
| my friends. The hunter shall hear | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| from his booth. He shall fear, but | 7 | ······· |
| love my voice. For sweet shall my voice | 8 | ········ |
| be for my friends; for pleasant were | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| they both to me. | 4 | ···· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.