Fragments of ancient poetry, collected in the highlands of Scotland, and tr. [by J. Macpherson.].1760 |
From inside the book
Page 13
... roll over the heath . The lake is troubled below . The deer defcend from the hill . No hunter at a distance is feen ; no whistling cow - herd is mid - day but all is filent . thoughts as I fit alone . nigh . It is Sad are my Didft thou ...
... roll over the heath . The lake is troubled below . The deer defcend from the hill . No hunter at a distance is feen ; no whistling cow - herd is mid - day but all is filent . thoughts as I fit alone . nigh . It is Sad are my Didft thou ...
Page 17
... roll over him ? BUT , Oh ! what voice is that ? Who rides on that meteor of fire ! Greens are his airy limbs . It is he ! it is the ghoft of Malcolm ! -Reft , lovely foul ,. reft on the rock ; and let me hear thy voice ! He is gone ...
... roll over him ? BUT , Oh ! what voice is that ? Who rides on that meteor of fire ! Greens are his airy limbs . It is he ! it is the ghoft of Malcolm ! -Reft , lovely foul ,. reft on the rock ; and let me hear thy voice ! He is gone ...
Page 23
... rolls the river through the narrow plain . A tree ftands alone on the hill , and marks the grave of Connal . The leaves whirl round with the wind , and ftrew the grave of the dead . At times are feen here the ghosts of the deceased ...
... rolls the river through the narrow plain . A tree ftands alone on the hill , and marks the grave of Connal . The leaves whirl round with the wind , and ftrew the grave of the dead . At times are feen here the ghosts of the deceased ...
Page 26
... was here ,. and Ofcur , my fon ,. great in war . Fair on our fight from the fea , at once , a virgin came . Her breaft was like the fnow of one night . Her cheek like the bud bud of the rofe . Mild was her blue rolling [ 26 ]
... was here ,. and Ofcur , my fon ,. great in war . Fair on our fight from the fea , at once , a virgin came . Her breaft was like the fnow of one night . Her cheek like the bud bud of the rofe . Mild was her blue rolling [ 26 ]
Page 27
Fragments James Macpherson. bud of the rofe . Mild was her blue rolling eye : but forrow was big in her heart . FINGAL renowned in war ! fhe cries , fons of the king , preferve me ! Speak fe- cure , replies the king , daughter of beau ...
Fragments James Macpherson. bud of the rofe . Mild was her blue rolling eye : but forrow was big in her heart . FINGAL renowned in war ! fhe cries , fons of the king , preferve me ! Speak fe- cure , replies the king , daughter of beau ...
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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 |
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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.