The Poems of Ossian, Volume 1Sammer, 1801 - 290 pages |
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Page 6
... between the harps ! Thou shalt roll this ftream away , or wafte with me in earth . " Around the king they rife in wrath . No words come forth : they feize their fpears . Each foul is rolled into itself . At 6 CATH - LODA :
... between the harps ! Thou shalt roll this ftream away , or wafte with me in earth . " Around the king they rife in wrath . No words come forth : they feize their fpears . Each foul is rolled into itself . At 6 CATH - LODA :
Page 52
... shalt not pursue my chace , my foes shall not fall by thy fword ( 32 ) . Lead me to the place of her reft that I may behold her beauty . Pale fhe lies at the rock , the cold winds lift her hair . Her bow - ftring founds in the blaft ...
... shalt not pursue my chace , my foes shall not fall by thy fword ( 32 ) . Lead me to the place of her reft that I may behold her beauty . Pale fhe lies at the rock , the cold winds lift her hair . Her bow - ftring founds in the blaft ...
Page 53
... shalt come , at times , to their dreams to fettle peace in their foul . Thy voice shall remain in their ears , they fhall think with joy on the dreams of their reft . Meteors gleam around the maid , and moon - beams lift her foul ...
... shalt come , at times , to their dreams to fettle peace in their foul . Thy voice shall remain in their ears , they fhall think with joy on the dreams of their reft . Meteors gleam around the maid , and moon - beams lift her foul ...
Page 66
... shalt see them no more : their graves I raised on the plain . art thou on the defert hill ? the heath alone ? But why Why on " Alone I am , O Shilric ! alone in the winter - house . With grief for thee I fell , Shilric , I am pale in ...
... shalt see them no more : their graves I raised on the plain . art thou on the defert hill ? the heath alone ? But why Why on " Alone I am , O Shilric ! alone in the winter - house . With grief for thee I fell , Shilric , I am pale in ...
Page 96
... shalt fail , thou mighty light ! if thy brightness is for a season , like Fingal ; our fame shall survive thy beams ! Such was the fong of Fingal , in the day of his joy . His thousand bards lean- ed forward from their feats , to hear ...
... shalt fail , thou mighty light ! if thy brightness is for a season , like Fingal ; our fame shall survive thy beams ! Such was the fong of Fingal , in the day of his joy . His thousand bards lean- ed forward from their feats , to hear ...
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Common terms and phrases
arms arofe aroſe art thou Balclutha bards battle beam behold blaft bofom breaft Carthon chace chief clouds Clutha Colmar Comála Comhal Connal courſe Crimora Crothar Dargo dark darkneſs daughter death defcended diftant doft thou Dunthalmo Duth-carmor Duth-maruno eyes faid fame fathers feaft feen fell fhall fhield fide figh filent Fingal firangers firft flain fome fong foul fpear Frothal fteel fteps ftone ftood ftorm ftory ftrangers ftreams ftrength fword Gaul ghofts hair hall harp heard heroes Hidallan hill himſelf hoft king Lochlin Loda maid Malvina meteor midft mift mighty Moina moon Morni Morven night Ofcar Offian Oithóna poem race raiſed Rathmor reft renowned rife river Clyde roar rock rofe rolled roſe ruſhed ſaid ſaw Scandinavia Selma ſhall ſhe Shilric ſon ſong ſpear ſpirit ſpread Starno Swaran ſword tears thee theſe thoſe thouſand tomb Trenmor vale voice warriors wave weft winds youth
Popular passages
Page 87 - 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 261 - Night is alike to me, stormy or gloomy the sky. Night flies before the beam, when it is poured on the hill. The young day returns from his clouds, but we return no more. Where are our chiefs of old? Where our kings of mighty name ? The fields of their battles are silent. Scarce their mossy tombs remain. We shall also be forgot. This lofty house shall fall. Our sons shall not behold the ruins in grass. They shall ask of the aged, " Where stood the walls of our fathers ?" Raise the song, and strike...
Page 81 - The murmur of thy streams, O Lora ! brings back the memory of the past. The sound of thy woods, Garmallar, is lovely in mine ear. Dost thou not behold, Malvina, a rock with its head of heath? Three aged pines bend from its face; green is the narrow plain at its feet ; there the flower of the mountain grows, and shakes its white head in the breeze.
Page 82 - ... grows, and shakes its white head in the breeze. The thistle is there alone, shedding its aged heard.
Page 57 - Didst thou but appear, O my love, a wanderer on the heath! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee...
Page 60 - But sleep did not rest on the king : he rose in the midst of his arms; and slowly ascended the hill, to behold the flame of Sarno's tower. " The flame was dim and distant ; the moon hid her red face in the east. A blast came from the mountain ; on its wings was the spirit of Loda. He came to his place in his terrors, and shook his dusky spear.
Page 62 - Fly to thy land,' replied the form: 'receive the wind and fly! The blasts are in the hollow of my hand: the course of the storm is mine. The king of Sora is my son, he bends at the stone of my power. His battle is around Carric-thura; and he will prevail! Fly to thy land, son of Comhal, or feel my flaming wrath!
Page 58 - When mid-day is filent around, converfe, O my love, with me! come on the wings of the gale! on the blaft of the mountain, come! Let me hear thy voice, as thou pafleft, when mid-day is fiient a*ound.
Page 19 - His race came forth, in their years ; they came forth to war, but they always fell.
Page 61 - Dost thou force me from my place? replied the hollow voice. The people bend before me. I turn the battle in the field of the brave. I look on the nations, and they vanish: my nostrils pour the blast of death. I come abroad on the winds: the tempests are before my face. But my dwelling is calm, above the clouds; the fields of my rest are pleasant. Dwell in thy pleasant fields, said the king; let Comhal's son be forgot.