Der Stil des Macphersonschen Ossian

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Mayer & Müller, 1904 - 82 pages

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Page 66 - When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves ; As from the god she flew with furious pace, Or as the god, more furious...
Page 8 - Fingal, an Ancient Epic Poem in Six Books: Together with Several Other Poems, Composed by Ossian, the Son of Fingal. Translated from the Galic Language, by James Macpherson.
Page 24 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood ; (Loose his beard and hoary hair, Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air,) And with a master's hand and prophet's fire Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre...
Page 10 - DAUGHTER of heaven, fair art thou ! the silence of thy face is pleasant ! Thou comest forth in loveliness. The stars attend thy blue course in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon! they brighten their dark-brown sides.
Page 18 - Tho' gods assembled grace his tow'ring height, Than what more humble mountains offer here, Where, in their blessings, all those gods appear. See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown'd ; Here blushing Flora paints th...
Page 28 - The Celts, with their vehement reaction against the despotism of fact, with their sensuous nature, their manifold striving, their adverse destiny, their immense calamities, the Celts are the prime authors of this vein of piercing regret and passion, — of this Titanism in poetry. A famous book, Macpherson's Ossian, carried in the last century this vein like a flood of lava through Europe.
Page 10 - A dark red stream of fire comes down from the hill. Crugal sat upon the beam : he that lately fell by the hand of Swaran striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting moon : his robes are of the clouds of the hill : his eyes are like two decaying flames. Dark is the wound on his breast. The stars dim-twinkled through his form ; and his voice was like the sound of a distant stream.
Page 22 - The Celt's quick feeling for what is noble and distinguished gave his poetry style ; his indomitable personality gave it pride and passion; his sensibility and nervous exaltation gave it a better gift still, the gift of rendering with wonderful felicity the magical charm of nature.
Page 10 - Swaran, striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting moon. His robes are of the clouds of the hill. His eyes are two decaying flames. Dark is the wound of his breast! ,, Crugal...
Page 62 - 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.

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