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I behold my son, O Malvina ! near the mossy rock of Crona.* But it is the mist of
the desert, tinged with the beam of, the west ! Lovely is the mist, that assumes the
form of Oscar ! turn from it, ye winds, when ye roar on the side of Ardven !
His terrible spear is at his side ; his shield that is like the darkened moon ! Come
to the battle of Oscar ; the hero is alone ! He came not over the streamy Carun.*
The bard returned with his song. Grey night grows dim on Crona The feast of ...
His arms hang disordered on his side. His hair flies loose from his brow. The tear
is in his down-cast eyes; a sigh half-silent in his breast ! Three days he strayed
unseen, alone, before he came to Lamor's halls : the mossy halls of his fathers, ...
Lamor pierced the side of his son. They sleep together : their ancient halls
moulder away. Ghosts are seen there at noon : the valley is silent, and the people
shun the place of Lamor. " Mournful is thy tale," said Oscar, " son of the times of
her father's side. In the rushy desert were my steps. He fled in the season of night.
Give thine aid to Cathlin to revenge his father. I sought thee not as a beam, in a
land of clouds. Thou, like the sun, art known, king of echoing Selma ! Selma's ...
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - hbergander - LibraryThing
The authenticity of Macpherson’s collection was already controversially judged, when it came, translated in several European languages, to the continent. The author was said having written the poems ... Read full review