O' see that form that faintly gleams!
'Tis Oscar come to cheer my dreams!
On wings of wind he flies away;
O stay, my lovely Oscar, stay!

Wake, Ossian, last of Fingal's line,
And mix thy tears and sighs with mine;
A wake the harp to doleful lays,
And soothe my soul with Oscar's praise.

The shell is ceased in Oscar's hall,
Since gloomy Kerbar wrought his fall;
The roe on Morven lightly bounds,
Nor hear the cry of Oscar's hounds.

	Anne Keith