The Works of Ossian, the Son of Fingal |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 16
Page
... COMALA : a Dramatic Poem 125 The WAR of CAROS : a Poem 136 The WAR of INIS - THONA : a Poem 148 The BATTLE of LORA : a Poem 158 CONLATH and CUTHONA : a Poem CARTHON : a Poem The DEATH of CUCHULLIN : a Poem DARTHULA : a Poem TEMORA : an ...
... COMALA : a Dramatic Poem 125 The WAR of CAROS : a Poem 136 The WAR of INIS - THONA : a Poem 148 The BATTLE of LORA : a Poem 158 CONLATH and CUTHONA : a Poem CARTHON : a Poem The DEATH of CUCHULLIN : a Poem DARTHULA : a Poem TEMORA : an ...
Page 124
... the disdainful foul came rufhing thro ' the wound . DRYDEN . They , hand in hand , with wand'ring fteps and flow , Through Eden took their folitary way . MILTON . COMALA : СОМА CO MÁ LA : A DRAMATIC POEM * . 124 FINGA L. BOOK VI .
... the disdainful foul came rufhing thro ' the wound . DRYDEN . They , hand in hand , with wand'ring fteps and flow , Through Eden took their folitary way . MILTON . COMALA : СОМА CO MÁ LA : A DRAMATIC POEM * . 124 FINGA L. BOOK VI .
Page 125
... COMALA . BARDS . DERSAGRENA . THE chace is over .--- No noife on Ardven but the torrent's roar ! --- -Daughter of Morni , come from Crona's banks . Lay down the bow and take the harp . Let the night come on with songs , and our joy be ...
... COMALA . BARDS . DERSAGRENA . THE chace is over .--- No noife on Ardven but the torrent's roar ! --- -Daughter of Morni , come from Crona's banks . Lay down the bow and take the harp . Let the night come on with songs , and our joy be ...
Page 126
... Comala , the daughter of Sarno king of Iniftore or Orkney iflands , fell in love with Fingal the fon of Comhal at a feaft , to which her father had invited him , [ Fingal , B. III . ] upon his return from Lochlin , after the death of ...
... Comala , the daughter of Sarno king of Iniftore or Orkney iflands , fell in love with Fingal the fon of Comhal at a feaft , to which her father had invited him , [ Fingal , B. III . ] upon his return from Lochlin , after the death of ...
Page 127
... Comala † , from thy rocks ; daughter of Sarno , rife in tears . The youth of thy love is low , and his ghoft is already on our hills . MELILCOMA . THERE Comala fits forlorn ! two gray dogs near shake their rough ears , and catch the fly ...
... Comala † , from thy rocks ; daughter of Sarno , rife in tears . The youth of thy love is low , and his ghoft is already on our hills . MELILCOMA . THERE Comala fits forlorn ! two gray dogs near shake their rough ears , and catch the fly ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
againſt arms arofe art thou Balclutha bards battle beam behold bend blaft breaft Cairbar Calmar car-borne Carril Carthon cave chace chief clouds Comala Cona Connal Cormac Cromla Cuchullin Dar-thula Dargo dark dark-brown darkneſs daugh daughter death defart defcended diftant doft thou echoing Erin eyes faid fame fathers feaft fecret feeble feen fell fhall fhells fhield fide figh filent Fingal firft flain fnow fome fong foul fpear fpread friends fteel fteps ftones ftood ftorm ftranger ftream ftrength ftrong fword Gaul ghoft gray hair hall harp hear heard heath heroes hill himſelf king of Morven Lathmon Lena lift Lochlin maid mift mighty moffy Morni mournful Nathos night Ofcar Offian paffed poem raiſed reft renowned rife roar rock rofe rolling Ryno Semo ſhall ſon ſpear Swaran tears Temora thee thouſand tomb Torman Ullin Uthal voice warriors waves wind youth
Popular passages
Page 240 - Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Page 200 - O thou that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion, like the god Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0 sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams...
Page 186 - I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls : and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head ; the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows, the rank grass of the wall waved round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina, silence is in the house of her fathers.
Page 298 - 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 296 - 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 345 - My fighs arife with the beam of the eaft; my tears defcend with the drops of night. I was a lovely tree, in thy> prefence, Ofcar, with all my branches round me ; but thy death came like a blaft from the defart, and laid my green head low. The fpring returned with its fhowers; no leaf of mine arofe ! The virgins faw me filent in the hall; they touched the harp of joy.
Page 275 - Returnest thou safe from the war? Where are thy friends, my love? I heard of thy death on the hill; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric! Yes, my fair, I return; but I alone of my race. Thou shalt see them no more: their graves I raised on the plain.
Page 116 - 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 201 - O sun, in the strength of thy youth ! Age is dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills : the blast of the north is on the plain ; the traveller shrinks in the midst of his journey.
Page 301 - The oar is stopped at once; he panted on the rock and expired. What is thy grief, O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood! The boat is broken in twain.