Starno's bloody shield. Gladness rose, a light on her face. She saw the cleft helmet of Swaran. She shrunk, darkened, from Fingal.—"Art thou fallen, by thy hundred streams, O love of the mournful maid!"
U-thorno, that risest in waters! on whose side are the meteors of night! I behold the dark moon descending, behind thy resounding woods. On thy top dwells the misty Loda: the house of the spirits of men! In the end of his cloudy-hall, bends forward Cruth-loda of swords. His form is dimly seen, amid his wavy mist. His right hand is on his shield. In his left is the half viewless shell. The roof of his dreadful hall is marked with nightly fires!
The race of Cruth-loda advance, a ridge of formless shades. He reaches the sounding shell, to those who shone in war. But, between him and the feeble, his shield rises, a darkened orb. He is setting meteor to the weak in arms. Bright, as a rainbow on streams, came Lulan's white-bosomed maid.
