The Poems of Ossian, Volume 1Sammer, 1801 - 290 pages |
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Page 165
... Dunthalmo was in- famous for his cruelty and ambition , Dunthalmo , through envy , or on account of some private feuds , which fubfifted between the families , mur- dered Cathmore at a feaft ; but being afterwards touched with remorse ...
... Dunthalmo was in- famous for his cruelty and ambition , Dunthalmo , through envy , or on account of some private feuds , which fubfifted between the families , mur- dered Cathmore at a feaft ; but being afterwards touched with remorse ...
Page 166
... Dunthalmo , who was fecretly in love with Calthon , helped him to make his escape from prifon , and fled with him to Fingal , difguifed in the habit of a young warrior , and implored his aid against Dunthal mo . Fingal fent Offian with ...
... Dunthalmo , who was fecretly in love with Calthon , helped him to make his escape from prifon , and fled with him to Fingal , difguifed in the habit of a young warrior , and implored his aid against Dunthal mo . Fingal fent Offian with ...
Page 169
touched the harp joy brightened on the face of the fad ! Dunthalmo came , in his pride , and rushed into the com- bat of Rathmor . The chief of Clutha overcame the rage of Dunthalmo rofe . He came , by night , with his warriors ; the ...
touched the harp joy brightened on the face of the fad ! Dunthalmo came , in his pride , and rushed into the com- bat of Rathmor . The chief of Clutha overcame the rage of Dunthalmo rofe . He came , by night , with his warriors ; the ...
Page 170
He Dunthalmo beheld their grief : his dar kening foul defigned their death . closed them in two caves , on the echoing banks of Teutha . The fun did not come there with his beams ; nor the moon of heaven by night . The fons of Rath- mor ...
He Dunthalmo beheld their grief : his dar kening foul defigned their death . closed them in two caves , on the echoing banks of Teutha . The fun did not come there with his beams ; nor the moon of heaven by night . The fons of Rath- mor ...
Page 174
... Dunthalmo heard the found of our approach . He gathered the ftrength of Teutha . He ftood on a hill with his hoft . They were like rocks broken with thunder , when their bent trees are finged and bare , and the ftreams of their chinks ...
... Dunthalmo heard the found of our approach . He gathered the ftrength of Teutha . He ftood on a hill with his hoft . They were like rocks broken with thunder , when their bent trees are finged and bare , and the ftreams of their chinks ...
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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.