The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson. To which are prefixed dissertations on the æra and poems of Ossian, Volume 11807 |
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Pagina 9
... cloud of public hate , all that had any knowledge of the religion of the Druids be- came extinct , and the nation fell into the last degree of ignorance of their rites and cere- monies . It is no matter of wonder then , that Fingal and ...
... cloud of public hate , all that had any knowledge of the religion of the Druids be- came extinct , and the nation fell into the last degree of ignorance of their rites and cere- monies . It is no matter of wonder then , that Fingal and ...
Pagina 105
... clouds , to pursue airy deer , and to listen to their praise in the mouths of bards . In such times as these , in a country where poe- try had been so long cultivated , and so highly honoured , is it any wonder that among the race and ...
... clouds , to pursue airy deer , and to listen to their praise in the mouths of bards . In such times as these , in a country where poe- try had been so long cultivated , and so highly honoured , is it any wonder that among the race and ...
Pagina 136
... too much from view ; or obscures them under a cloud of incredible fictions . Besides being tem- perately employed , machinery ought always to A have some foundation in popular belief . poet is 136 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION ON.
... too much from view ; or obscures them under a cloud of incredible fictions . Besides being tem- perately employed , machinery ought always to A have some foundation in popular belief . poet is 136 A CRITICAL DISSERTATION ON.
Pagina 138
... clouds . The ghosts of departed bards continue to sing . The ghosts of departed heroes frequent the fields of their former fame . " They rest toge- " ther in their caves , and talk of mortal men . “ Their songs are of other worlds ...
... clouds . The ghosts of departed bards continue to sing . The ghosts of departed heroes frequent the fields of their former fame . " They rest toge- " ther in their caves , and talk of mortal men . “ Their songs are of other worlds ...
Pagina 140
... clouds of " the hill . His eyes are like two decaying " flames . Dark is the wound of his breast.- " The stars dim - twinkled through his form , and " his voice was like the sound of a distant " stream . " The circumstance of the stars ...
... clouds of " the hill . His eyes are like two decaying " flames . Dark is the wound of his breast.- " The stars dim - twinkled through his form , and " his voice was like the sound of a distant " stream . " The circumstance of the stars ...
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
ancient Annir antiquity appears arms art thou Balclutha bards battle beam beautiful behold blast Caledonians Carthon Cathmor Celtic Celtic nations character chief Clessámmor cloud Clutha Comala Connal Crimora Cuthullin Dargo dark daugh daughter death descended distant dost Druids Dunthalmo dwells eyes fame father feast fell Fillan Fingal Fion Firbolg Frothal Gaul genius ghosts grief hall hand harp heard heath heroes hill Homer Iliad Ireland Irish king of Morven language lift Lochlin Loda maid Malvina manners meteor midst mighty mist moon Morni Morven mournful nations night Odin Oithona Oscar Ossian Picts poem poet poetical poetry race renowned rise roar rock rolled rose rushed Scandinavia Scotland Scots Selma sentiment shew shield sigh silent song soul sound spear spirit Starno storm strangers stream sublime Swaran sword tears Temora thee thou tion tomb tradition Trenmor vale voice warrior wave winds youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 312 - O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave.
Pagina 425 - It is night ; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain ; forlorn on the hill of winds ! "Rise, moon ! from behind thy clouds.
Pagina 280 - He lifted high his shadowy spear! He bent forward his dreadful height. Fingal, advancing, drew his sword; the blade of dark-brown Luno.* The gleaming path of the steel winds through the gloomy ghost. The form fell shapeless into air, like a column of smoke, which the staff of the boy disturbs, as it rises from the half-extinguished furnace.
Pagina 140 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; The hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Pagina 206 - Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me, I fondly dream ! Had ye been there...
Pagina 423 - OTAR of descending night! fair is thy light in the west ! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud : thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock.
Pagina 295 - Two stones half sunk in the ground, shew their heads of moss. The deer of the mountain avoids the place, for he beholds a dim ghost standing there.
Pagina 201 - The land, through which we have gone to search it, is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof; and all the people that we saw in it are men of a great stature. And there we saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants : and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.
Pagina 426 - O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me; hear my voice; hear me, sons of my love!
Pagina 163 - The flower hangs its heavy head, waving, at times, to the gale. Why dost thou awake me, O gale, it seems to say, I am covered with the drops of heaven? The time of my fading is near, and the blast that shall scatter my leaves. Tomorrow shall the traveller come, he that saw me in my beauty shall come; his eyes will search the field, but they will not find me?