The Poems of Ossian, Volume 2

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J. D. Dewick, 1803 - Bards and bardism

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Page 39 - STAR of descending night ! fair is thy light in the west ! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud : thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain ? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock.
Page 98 - O Oscar ! bend the strong in arm ; but spare the feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides against the foes of thy people ; but like the gale that moves the grass to those who ask thine aid. — So Tremor lived; such Trathal was ; and such has Fingal been. My arm was the support of the injured ; and the weak rested behind the lightning of my steel.
Page 202 - The blue waves of Ullin roll in light; the green hills are covered with day; trees shake their dusky heads in the breeze.
Page 49 - Roll on, ye dark-brown years ; ye bring no joy on your course! Let the tomb open to Ossian, for his strength has failed. The sons of song are gone to rest. My voice remains, like a blast that roars lonely on a sea-surrounded rock, after the winds are laid.
Page 31 - He sleeps in the mild beams of the sun; he awakes amidst a storm ; the red lightning flies around : trees shake their heads to the wind ! He looks back with joy, on the day of the sun ; and the pleasant dreams of his rest...
Page 190 - The remembrance of battles past, and the return of peace is compared to the sun returning after a storm : " Hear the battle of Lora! the sound of its steel is long since past: so thunder on the darkened hill roars, and is no more ; the sun returns with his silent beams; the glittering rocks, and green heads of the mountains, smile.
Page 46 - ... please the soul. It is like soft mist that, rising from a lake, pours on the silent vale ; the green flowers are filled with dew, but the sun returns in his strength, and the mist is gone Why art thou sad, O Armin, chief of sea-surrounded Gorma?
Page 48 - Before morning appeared, her voice was weak; it died away like the evening breeze among the grass of the rocks. Spent with grief, she expired, and left thee, Armin, alone.
Page 341 - Did not Ossian hear a voice ? or is it the sound of days that are no more? Often, like the evening sun, comes the memory of former times on my soul.

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