The poems of Ossian, Volume 1

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Printed for Sir R. Phillips, 1822
 

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Page 248 - When the world is dark with tempests; when thunder rolls and lightning flies; thou lookest in thy beauty, from the clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian thou lookest in vain; for he beholds thy beams no more; whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a season, thy years will have an end. Thou shall sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning.
Page 238 - Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days ? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day : yet a few years and the blast of the desert comes ; it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield.
Page 248 - O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O sun, thy everlasting light ? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty, — the stars hide themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold, and pale, sinks in the western wave. But thou thyself movest alone, — who can be a companion of thy course? - The oaks of the mountains fall ; the mountains themselves decay with years...
Page 139 - JL/AUGHTER 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 111 - His renown will be a sun to my soul, in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people! that the heroes would only say, " Behold the
Page 229 - What shall she do, hapless maid! He bleeds; her Connal dies. All the night long she cries, and all the day, O Connal, my love and my friend!
Page 195 - Where have they hid, in mist, their many-coloured sides ? I look into the times of old, but they seem dim to Ossian's eyes, like reflected moon-beams, on a distant lake. Here rise the red beams of war ! There, silent, dwells a feeble race ! They mark no years with their deeds, as slow they pass along. Dweller between the shields...
Page 191 - If on the heath she moved, her breast was whiter than the down of Cana; If on the sea-beat shore, than the foam of the rolling ocean. Her eyes were two stars of light. Her face was heaven's bow in showers. Her dark hair flowed round it, like the streaming clouds. Thou wert the dweller of souls, white-handed Strinadona!
Page 11 - The lake is troubled before thee; dark are the clouds of the sky! But thou art snow on the heath; thy hair is the mist of Cromla, when it curls on the hill ; when it shines to the beam of the West! Thy breasts are two smooth rocks seen from Branno of streams; thy arms like two white pillars in the halls of the great Fingal.
Page 246 - Carthon, their songs descend to future times. The children of years to come shall hear the fame of Carthon ; when they sit round the burning oak, and the night is spent in songs of old. The hunter, sitting in the heath, shall hear the rustling blast ; and, raising his eyes, behold the rock where Carthon fell. He shall turn to his son, and show the place where the mighty fought; " There the king of Balclutha fought, like the strength of a thousand streams.

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