thy friend, at the stream of Lora ? Rise, in the light of thy steel, companion of valiant Comhal ! Let the youth of Balclutha feel the strength of Morven's race. He rose in the strength of his steel, shaking his grizly locks. He fitted the shield to his side ; he rushed, in the pride of valour.
Carthon stood on a rock ; he saw the hero rushing on. He loved the dreadful joy of his face : his strength, in the locks of age ! "Shall I lift that spear, he said, that never strikes, but once, a foe ? Or shall I, with the words of peace, preserve the warrior's life ? Stately are his steps of age ! lovely the remnant of his years ! Perhaps it is the husband of Moina ; the father of car-borne Carthon. Often have I heard, that he dwelt at the echoing stream of Lora."
Such were his words, when Clessámmor came, and lifted high his spear. The youth received it on his shield, and spoke the words of peace. "Warrior of the aged locks ! Is there no youth to lift the spear ? Hast thou no son to raise the shield before his father to meet the arm of youth ? Is the spouse of thy love no more ? or weeps she over the tombs of thy sons ? Art thou of the kings of men ? What will be the fame of my sword should'st thou fall ?
It will be great, thou son of pride ! begun the tall Clessámmor. I have been renowned in battle ; but I never told my name[1] to a foe. Yield to me, son of the
- ↑ To tell one's name to an enemy was reckoned, in those days of heroism, a manifest evasion of fighting him : for if it was once known, that friendship subsisted of old, between the
