The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson, Volume 11790 |
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Page 4
... behold . Deaths wander , like fhadows , over his fiery foul ! Do I forget that beam of light , the white - handed daughter of kings ? Go , fon of Loda ; his words are wind to Fingal : wind , that , to and fro , drives the thistle , in ...
... behold . Deaths wander , like fhadows , over his fiery foul ! Do I forget that beam of light , the white - handed daughter of kings ? Go , fon of Loda ; his words are wind to Fingal : wind , that , to and fro , drives the thistle , in ...
Page 9
... behold thee , chief of Lulan , fporting by Loda's hall , when the dark - fkirted night is rolled along the fky . - Thou , fometimes , hideft the moon with thy fhield . I have feen her dim , in heaven . Thou kindleft thy hair into ...
... behold thee , chief of Lulan , fporting by Loda's hall , when the dark - fkirted night is rolled along the fky . - Thou , fometimes , hideft the moon with thy fhield . I have feen her dim , in heaven . Thou kindleft thy hair into ...
Page 11
... behold . Deaths wander , like fhadows , over his fiery foul ! Do I forget that beam of light , the white - handed daughter of kings ? Go , fon of Loda ; his words are wind to Fingal : wind , that , to and fro , drives the thistle , in ...
... behold . Deaths wander , like fhadows , over his fiery foul ! Do I forget that beam of light , the white - handed daughter of kings ? Go , fon of Loda ; his words are wind to Fingal : wind , that , to and fro , drives the thistle , in ...
Page 11
... behold thee , chief of Lulan , fporting by Loda's hall , when the dark - fkirted night is rolled along the fky . - Thou , fometimes , hideft the moon with thy fhield . I have feen her dim , in heaven . Thou kindleft thy hair into ...
... behold thee , chief of Lulan , fporting by Loda's hall , when the dark - fkirted night is rolled along the fky . - Thou , fometimes , hideft the moon with thy fhield . I have feen her dim , in heaven . Thou kindleft thy hair into ...
Page 29
... behold my race on thy fide . Fingal is bending , in night , * The bards , who were always ready to fupply what they thought deficient in the poems of Offian , have inferted a great many incidents between the fe- cond and third duän of ...
... behold my race on thy fide . Fingal is bending , in night , * The bards , who were always ready to fupply what they thought deficient in the poems of Offian , have inferted a great many incidents between the fe- cond and third duän of ...
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Common terms and phrases
againſt Annir arife arms arofe art thou Balclutha bards battle beam behold blaft bofom breaft Cairbar Calmar Carril Carthon cave chief clouds Clutha Comala Connal CRIMORA Cromla Cuthullin Dargo dark darkneſs daughter death defcended diftant doft thou Duth-maruno echoing Erin eyes faid fame fathers feaft fecret feen fell fhall fhells fhield fide figh fight filent Fingal firft flain fome fong foul fpear fpirit fpread fteel fteps ftone ftood ftorm ftory ftrangers ftream ftrength fword Gaul ghofts ghoſts hair hall harp heard heath heroes Hidallan hill himſelf king of Morven Lochlin Loda maid mift mighty moffy Morni Morven mournful night Ofcar Offian Oithona paffed pleaſant poem raiſed reft renowned rife roar rock rofe rolled roſe ruſhed ſaid Scandinavia Selma ſhall ſon ſpear Starno Swaran tears thee thouſand tomb Torman Trenmor Ullin vale voice warriors waves weft wind youth
Popular passages
Page 79 - His words reached the heart of Clessammor: he fell, in silence, on his son. The host stood darkened around: no voice is on the plain. Night came, the moon, from the east, looked on the mournful field: but still they stood, like a silent grove that lifts its head on Gormal, when the loud winds are laid, and dark autumn is on the plain. Three days they mourned above Carthon; on the fourth his father died.
Page 197 - 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. Morar! thou art low indeed. 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. Who on his staff is this? who is this, whose head is white with age?
Page 81 - 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 214 - Lovely daughter of Cormac, I love thee as my soul ! I have slain one stately deer for thee. High was his branchy head, and fleet his feet of wind.
Page 197 - But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow! Thy face was like the sun after rain...
Page 68 - 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 339 - Whither dost thou retire from thy course, when the darkness of thy countenance grows? hast thou thy hall, like Ossian? dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? have thy sisters fallen from heaven? are they who rejoiced with thee at night no more? Yes, they have fallen, fair light! and thou dost often retire to mourn.
Page 199 - Arise, winds of autumn, arise; blow along the heath! streams of the mountains roar! roar, tempests, in the groves of my oaks! walk through broken clouds, O moon! show thy pale face, at intervals! bring to my mind the night, when all my children fell; when Arindal the mighty fell; when Daura the lovely failed!
Page 196 - 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.
Page 340 - ... one night ; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The stars will then lift their heads: they, who were ashamed in thy presence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Burst the cloud, O wind ! that the Daughter of night may look forth ! that the shaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves, in light.