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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
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arms art thou Balclutha bards battle beam behold bend blast blood breast Cairbar Calmar car-borne Carril Carthon cave chace chief clouds Clutha Comala Cona Connal Cormac Crimora Cromla Cuthullin Dar-thula Dargo dark dark-brown daugh daughter death desart distant dost thou ecchoing Erin eyes fame fathers feast feeble fell Fillan Fingal fled foul friends Gaul ghosts grey grief hair hall hand harp hear heard heath heroes hill king of Morven king of swords Lathmon Lego lift Lochlin Loda maid meteor midst mighty mist moon Morni mournful Nathos night Oithona Oman Oscar Ossian poem purfued race renown replied rife roar rock rolled rose rushed Ryno Scandinavia Selma Semo shells shield sigh silent song sons Sora soul sound spear Starno steel storm strangers stream strength Swaran sword tears Temora thee thine tomb Torman trembling Trenmor Ullin vale voice warriors waves wind youth
Page 368 - ... of my fathers ! bend. Lay by the red terror of your course. Receive the falling chief; whether he comes from a distant land, or rises from the rolling sea. Let his robe of mist be near ; his spear that is form'd of a cloud.
Page 211 - Arise, winds of autumn, arise; blow along the heath! streams of the mountains roar! roar, tempests, in the groves of my oaks! walk through broken clouds, O moon! show thy pale face, at intervals! bring to my mind the night, when all my children fell; when Arindal the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely failed!
Page 209 - A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee; no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan. Who on his staff is this? who is this, whose head is white with age?
Page 226 - Lovely daughter of Cormac, I love thee as my soul ! I have slain one stately deer for thee. High was his branchy head, and fleet his feet of wind.
Page 136 - Night is alike to me, stormy or gloomy the sky. Night flies before the beam, when it is poured on the hill. The young day returns from his clouds, but we return no more. Where are our chiefs of old? Where our kings of mighty name ? The fields of their battles are silent. Scarce their mossy tombs remain. We shall also be forgot. This lofty house shall fall. Our sons shall not behold the ruins in grass. They shall ask of the aged, " Where stood the walls of our fathers ?" Raise the song, and strike...
Page 221 - They come like streams from the mountain ; each rushes roaring from his hill. Bright are the chiefs of battle, in the armour of their fathers. Gloomy and dark, their heroes follow like the gathering of the rainy clouds behind the red meteors of heaven.
Page 203 - And it does arise in its strength! I behold my departed friends. Their gathering is on Lora, as in the days of other years.
Page 230 - Within the car is seen the chief; the strong-armed son of the sword. The hero's name is Cuthullin, son of Semo king of shells. His red cheek is like my polished yew. The look of his blue-rolling eye is wide, beneath the dark arch of his brow. His hair flies from his head like a flame, as bending forward he wields the spear. Fly, king of ocean, fly ! He comes, like a storm, along the streamy vale ! " When did I fly," replied the king ? " When fled Swaran from the battle of spears?
Page 209 - But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face was like the sun after rain; like the moon in the silence of night; calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid.