Fragments of ancient poetry, collected in the highlands of Scotland, and tr. [by J. Macpherson.].1760 |
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Page 23
... dead . At times are feen here the ghosts of the deceased , when the mufing hunter alone ftalks flowly over the heath . WHO can reach the fource of thy race , O Connal ? and who recount thy Fathers ? Thy family grew like an oak on the ...
... dead . At times are feen here the ghosts of the deceased , when the mufing hunter alone ftalks flowly over the heath . WHO can reach the fource of thy race , O Connal ? and who recount thy Fathers ? Thy family grew like an oak on the ...
Page 37
... dead . How haft thou fallen like an oak , with all thy branches round thee ! Where is Fingal the King ? where is Ofcur my fon ? where are all my race ? Alas ! in the earth they lie . I feel their tombs with my hands . I hear the river ...
... dead . How haft thou fallen like an oak , with all thy branches round thee ! Where is Fingal the King ? where is Ofcur my fon ? where are all my race ? Alas ! in the earth they lie . I feel their tombs with my hands . I hear the river ...
Page 48
... dead . Their fwords are red from the fight . O my brother ! my brother ! why haft thou flain my Shalgar ? why , O Shalgar ! haft thou flain my brother ? Dear were ye both to me ! fpeak to me ; hear my voice , fons of my love ! But alas ...
... dead . Their fwords are red from the fight . O my brother ! my brother ! why haft thou flain my Shalgar ? why , O Shalgar ! haft thou flain my brother ? Dear were ye both to me ! fpeak to me ; hear my voice , fons of my love ! But alas ...
Page 49
... hear from his booth . He fhall fear , but love my voice . For sweet shall my voice- be for my friends ; for pleafant were they both to me .. G SAD ! F XI . AD ! I am fad [ 49 ] friends of the dead; but close it not ...
... hear from his booth . He fhall fear , but love my voice . For sweet shall my voice- be for my friends ; for pleafant were they both to me .. G SAD ! F XI . AD ! I am fad [ 49 ] friends of the dead; but close it not ...
Page 55
... dead . Bent is his head of age , and red his tearful eye . Alpin , thou fon of the fong , why alone on the fi- lent hill ? why complaineft thou , as a blaft in the wood ; as a wave on the lonely fhore ? ALPIN . ALPIN . My tears , O Ryno ...
... dead . Bent is his head of age , and red his tearful eye . Alpin , thou fon of the fong , why alone on the fi- lent hill ? why complaineft thou , as a blaft in the wood ; as a wave on the lonely fhore ? ALPIN . ALPIN . My tears , O Ryno ...
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Fragments of Ancient Poetry, Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and Tr ... Fragments No preview available - 2018 |
Fragments of Ancient Poetry, Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and Tr ... Fragments No preview available - 2023 |
Fragments of Ancient Poetry, Collected in the Highlands of Scotland, and Tr ... Fragments No preview available - 2015 |
Common terms and phrases
Allad Alpin Arindel Armor art thou battle blaſt blood bofom breaft brow Cadmor Carbre chace cloud Connal Corval cries CRIMORA Cromleach Cuchulaid Dargo dark daugh daughter of Cormac-Carbre Daura death deer defcended Defert Dermid DUCHOM MAR Durftan earth eyes faid fair faireft fame father fays fee thee fell fhall hear fhield fhore fide filent Fillan Firchios flain fnow fome fon of Morny fon of Mugruch fong forrow foul fpeak fpear friends fteel ftones ftood ftorm ftream ftrong Garve Gaul Gealchoffa grave grey grief heard heath hill king Lamderg maid mighty moffy moon Morar MORNA mountain mourn night Ofcur my fon OSCUR plain poems preferve race of Fingal raiſe reft rife Rivine rock rofe Ronnan Scotland Shalgar ſhall Shilric ſteel tears theſe thine thou art thy fword thy voice tomb tranflator tree Ullin VINVELA warriours waves whofe wind
Popular passages
Page 55 - RYNO The wind and the rain are past: calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant sun. Red through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs, O stream! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin, the son of song, mourning for the dead!
Page 57 - 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.
Page 24 - Warriors fell by thy fword, as the tbiftle by the ftaff of a boy. Dargo the mighty came on, like a cloud of thunder. His brows were contracted and dark. His eyes like two caves in a rock.
Page 23 - Autumn is dark on the mountains; grey mist rests on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow plain. A tree stands alone on the hill, and marks the slumbering Connal. The leaves whirl round with the wind, and strew the grave of the dead.
Page 48 - Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream! why should I stay behind?
Page 39 - They threw their arms round each other; they struggled on the Plain. The Earth is Ploughed with their Heels. Their bones crack as the boat on the Ocean, when it leaps from wave to wave. Long did they toil; with night, they fell on the sounding Plain ; as two Oaks, with their branches mingled, fall crashing from the Hill.
Page 36 - She fell ; she trembled — and died. By the brook of the hill their graves are laid ; a birch's unequal shade covers their tomb. Often on their green earthen tombs the branchy sons of the mountain feed, when mid-day is all in flames, and silence is over all the hills.
Page 58 - Fame ; why did he not hear of his Wound ? Weep, thou Father of Morar ! weep ; but thy Son heareth thee not.
Page 26 - Son of the noble Fingal, Oscian, prince of men! what tears run down the cheeks of age? what shades thy mighty soul? Memory, son of Alpin, memory wounds the aged. Of former times are my thoughts; my thoughts are of the noble Fingal.
Page 23 - Thy family grew like an oak on the mountain, which meeteth the wind with its lofty head. But now it is torn from the earth.