Fragment of a Northern Tale (1773)

1.        Macpherson first printed this “fragment” of an originally Norse poem in the preface to the collected poems of Ossian, which came out in 1773. At this time, he was forced into a defensive position. The Norse piece appears as part of a defence for using English prose to translate what was allegedly Gaelic verse. The poem seems to be concerned with events Macpherson describes in the revised edition of his An Introduction to the History of Great Britain and Ireland (1773), where he recounts how “Harald Harfager, king of Norway, pursuing his enemies, who had taken refuge in the Scottish Isles, reduced the Hebrides and the Orkneys”. [5]  His source for this was the Icelandic historian Thormud Torfæus, who tells us that Orkney and Shetland saw intensive settlements of Norwegian settlers during the late eighth and early ninth centuries. These became a base for Vikings to plunder the coasts of Scotland and Norway. In response the Norwegian King Harald Fair Hair annexed the islands in 875.

2.        As it is entirely characteristic of Macpherson, he obscures the source and provenance of the poem he presents to the public. This makes it suspect. Nevertheless, other travellers to the northern regions of Britain also claimed to record specimens of Norse poetry that had been preserved there. In the year 1774, the Scottish theologian George Low visited Shetland in order to collect material for a description of the country and was able to take down thirty-five stanzas of the Norn Ballad of Hildina from an elder farmer of Foula, Shetland Islands. [6]  In Lockhart’s Life of Scott, a traveller to North Ronaldsay, the northernmost of the Orkney Islands, is said to have carried with him a Gray’s “The Fatal Sisters”, then recently published, which the old inhabitants recognized as a poem they knew as The Enchantresses. [7] 

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From the preface to The Poems of Ossian (1773)

1.        The following Poems, it must be confessed, are more calculated to please persons of exquisite feelings of heart, than those who receive all their impressions by the ear. The novelty of cadence, in what is called a prose version, tho’ not destitute of harmony, will not to common readers supply the absence of the frequent returns of rhime. This was the opinion of the Writer himself, though he yielded to the judgment of others, in a mode, which presented freedom and dignity of expression, instead of fetters, which cramp the thought, whilst the harmony of language is preserved. His intention was to publish in verse. The making of poetry, like any other handicraft, may be learned by industry; and he had served his apprenticeship, tho’ in secret, to the muses.

2.        It is, however, doubtful, whether the harmony which these Poems might derive from rhime, even in much better hands than those of the Translator, could atone for the simplicity and energy, which they would lose. The determination of this point shall be left to the readers of this Preface. The following is the beginning of a Poem, translated from the Norse to the Gaëlic language; and, from the latter, transferred into English. The verse took little more time to the writer than the prose; and he himself is doubtful (if he has succeeded in either), which of them is the most literal version.

FRAGMENT of a NORTHERN TALE

1.        Where Harold, with golden hair spread o’er Lochlin [8]  his high commands; where, with justice, he ruled the tribes, who sunk, subdued, beneath his sword; abrupt rises Gormal [9]  in snow! The tempests roll dark on his sides, but calm, above his vast forehead appears. White-issuing from the skirt of his storms, the troubled torrents pour down his sides. Joining, as they roar along, they bear the Torno, in foam, to the main.

2.        Grey on the bank, and far from men, half-covered, by ancient pines, from the wind, a lonely pile exalts its head, long-shaken by the storms of the north. To this fled Sigurd, fierce in fight, from Harold the leader of armies, when fate had brightened his spear, with renown; when he conquered in that rude field, where Lulan’s warriors fell in blood, or rose in terror on the waves of the main. Darkly sat the grey-haired chief; yet sorrow dwelt not in his soul. But when the warrior thought on the past, his proud heart heaved again his side: forth flew his sword from its place; he wounded Harold in all the winds,

3.        One daughter, and one only, but bright in form and mild of soul, the last beam of the setting line, remained to Sigurd of all his race. His son, in Lulan’s battle slain, beheld not his father’s flight from the foes. Nor finished seemed the ancient line! The splendid beauty of bright-eyed Fithon, covered still the fallen king with renown. Her arm was white like Gormal’s snow; her bosom whiter than the foam of the main, when roll waves beneath the wrath of the winds. Like two stars were her radiant eyes, like two stars that rise on the deep, when dark tumult embroils the night. Pleasant are the beams aloft, as stately they ascend the skies.

4.        Nor Odin forgot, in aught, the maid. Her form scarce equalled her lofty mind. Awe moved around her stately lips. Heroes loved – but shrunk away in their fears. Yet midst the pride of all her charms, her heart was soft and her soul was kind. She saw the mournful with tearful eyes. Transient darkness arose in her breast. Her joy was in the chase. Each morning, when doubtful light wandered dimly on Lulan’s waves, she roved the resounding woods, to Gormal’s head of snow. Nor moved the maid alone, &c.