The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson

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Page 19 - 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.
Page 24 - All night I stood on the shore. I saw her by the faint beam of the moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind; the rain beat hard on the hill. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak. It died away, like the evening breeze among the grass of the rocks.
Page 14 - Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard around. Let my wanderer hear me! Salgar! it is Colma who calls. Here is the tree, and the rock. Salgar, my love!
Page 78 - Deugala was the spouse of Cairbar, chief of the plains of Ullin. She was covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the house of pride.
Page 14 - 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 174 - Raise high the mossy stones of their fame : that the children of the north hereafter may behold the place where their fathers fought. The hunter may say, when he leans on a mossy tomb, here Fingal and Swaran fought, the heroes of other years. Thus hereafter shall he say, and our fame shall last for ever !" " Swaran," said the king of hills,
Page 103 - As a hundred winds on Morven : as the streams of a hundred hills ; as clouds fly successive over heaven; as the dark ocean assails the shore of the desert : so roaring, so vast, so terrible, the armies mixed on Lena's echoing heath.
Page 25 - Ossian sing? Soon shall he lie in the narrow house, and no bard shall raise his fame! Roll on, ye dark-brown years; ye bring no joy on your course! Let the tomb open to Ossian, for his strength has failed.
Page 43 - to the souls of the heroes ! their deeds were great in fight. Let them ride around f me on clouds. Let them shew their features of war. My soul shall then be firm in danger ; mine arm like the thunder of heaven ! But be thou on a moon-beam, O Morna ! near the window of my rest ; when my thoughts are of peace ; when the din of arms is past.
Page 94 - She fell, like a wreath of snow, which slides from the rocks of Ronan ; when the woods are still, and echo deepens in the vale ! Then Fingal eyed his valiant chiefs, his valiant chiefs took arms. The gloom of battle roared; Lochlin fled or died. Pale, in his bounding ship he closed the maid of the softest soul. Her tomb ascends on Ardven : the sea roars round her narrow dwelling.

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