The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson. Blair's critical dissertations, Volume 21806 |
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Pagina 44
... turned in the field of the valiant ! " " Go , grey - haired Snivan , " Starno said , " go to Ardven's sea - surrounded rocks . Tell to the king of Selma ; he the fairest among his thousands , tell him I give him my daughter , the ...
... turned in the field of the valiant ! " " Go , grey - haired Snivan , " Starno said , " go to Ardven's sea - surrounded rocks . Tell to the king of Selma ; he the fairest among his thousands , tell him I give him my daughter , the ...
Pagina 51
... turning from the kingdom of snows ; so strong , so dark , so sudden came down the sons of Lochlin . The king in their front appears , in the dismal pride of his arms ! Wrath burns on his dark - brown face : his eyes roll in the fire of ...
... turning from the kingdom of snows ; so strong , so dark , so sudden came down the sons of Lochlin . The king in their front appears , in the dismal pride of his arms ! Wrath burns on his dark - brown face : his eyes roll in the fire of ...
Pagina 56
... turned Fingal's best friend and greatest hero . His character is something like that of Ajax in the Iliad ; a hero of more strength than conduct in battle . He was very fond of military fame , and here he demands the next battle to ...
... turned Fingal's best friend and greatest hero . His character is something like that of Ajax in the Iliad ; a hero of more strength than conduct in battle . He was very fond of military fame , and here he demands the next battle to ...
Pagina 63
... turned . Three times I broke on Cormac's shield : three times he broke his spear . But , unhappy youth of love ! I cut his head away . Five times I shook it by the lock . The friends of Cormac fled . Whoever would have told me , lovely ...
... turned . Three times I broke on Cormac's shield : three times he broke his spear . But , unhappy youth of love ! I cut his head away . Five times I shook it by the lock . The friends of Cormac fled . Whoever would have told me , lovely ...
Pagina 65
... turned away her silent eyes ! " Why weeps the daughter of Starno ? " said Fingal , with a sigh ; " why is thy face so`pale , fair wanderer of the clouds ? " She departed on the wind of Lena . She left him in the midst of the night . She ...
... turned away her silent eyes ! " Why weeps the daughter of Starno ? " said Fingal , with a sigh ; " why is thy face so`pale , fair wanderer of the clouds ? " She departed on the wind of Lena . She left him in the midst of the night . She ...
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
arms art thou Atha bards battle beam behold bend blast blood blue blue streams Cairbar Calmar car-borne Carril Cathmor cave chace chief Clono cloud Cona Connal Cormac Cromla Cuthullin Dar-thula dark dark-brown darkened daugh daughter death dost thou echoing Erin Erin's eyes fame fathers feast feeble fell field fight Fillan Fingal Firbolg Foldath friends Gaul ghosts gleaming grey grief hair hall harp hear heard heath heroes hill king of Ireland king of Morven Lathmon Lego Lena lift light Lochlin Lubar maid Malthos midst mighty mist Moi-lena Mora Morni mournful Nathos night Oscar Ossian poem renown rise roar rock roes rolled rose rush Ryno Selma Semo shield side sigh silent song sons soul sound spear steel steps storm stream Strutha Sul-malla Swaran sword tears Temora thee thine Thou art tomb Torman Trenmor Ullin Usnoth Uthal vale voice warriors waves wind youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 56 - O Oscar ! bend the strong in arm : but spare the feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides against the foes of thy people ; but like the gale that moves the grass, to those who ask thine aid. So Trenmor lived ; such Trathal was ; and such has Fingal been. My arm was the support of the injured ; the weak rested behind the lightning of my steel.
Pagina 9 - Cromla echoes round. On Lena's dusky heath they stand, like mist that shades the hills of autumn; when broken and dark it settles high, and lifts its head to heaven. "Hail!
Pagina 15 - < to the souls of the heroes ! their deeds were great in fight. Let them ride around ine on clouds. Let them show their features of war. My soul shall then be firm in danger ; mine arm like the thunder of heaven! But be thou on a moonbeam, O Morna ! near the window of my rest ; when my thoughts are of peace ; when the din of arms is past.
Pagina 167 - The blue waves of Ullin roll in light. The green hills are covered with day. Trees shake their dusky heads in the breeze. Grey torrents pour their noisy streams. Two green hills with aged oaks surround a narrow plain. The blue course of a stream is there. On its banks stood Cairbar of Atha. His spear supports the king; the red eyes of his fear are sad. Cormac rises on his soul with all his ghastly wounds.
Pagina 318 - I passed, O son of Fingal, by Tor-lutha's mossy walls. The smoke of the hall was ceased. Silence was among the trees of the hill. The voice of the chase was over. I saw the daughters of the bow. I asked about Malvina, but they answered not. They turned their faces away: thin darkness covered their beauty. They were like stars, on a rainy hill, by night, each looking faintly through her mist.
Pagina 17 - When fled Swaran from the battle of spears? When did I shrink from danger, chief of the little soul? I met the storm of Gormal, when the foam of my waves beat high. I met the storm of the clouds; shall Swaran fly from a hero? Were Fingal himself before me, my soul should not darken with fear. Arise to battle, my thousands! pour round me like the echoing main. Gather round the bright steel of your king; strong as the rocks of my land; that meet the storm with joy, and stretch their dark pines to the...
Pagina 287 - Son of Alpin, strike the string. Is there aught of joy in the harp? Pour it then on the soul of Ossian: It is folded in mist. I hear thee, O bard ! in my night. But cease the lightly-trembling sound.
Pagina 276 - Lara's stream, is poured the vapour dark and deep : the moon, like a dim shield, is swimming through its folds. With this clothe the spirits of old their sudden gestures on the wind, when they stride, from blast to blast, along the dusky night. Often, blended with the gale, to some warrior's grave,* they roll the mist, a grey dwelling to his ghost, until the songs arise.