The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson. To which are prefixed dissertations on the æra and poems of Ossian, Bind 11807 |
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Side 33
... I have laid down . Had they originally been of a different race from the Scots , their language of course would be different . The contrary VOL . I. Ꭰ is the case . The names of places in the THE POEMS OF OSSIAN . 33.
... I have laid down . Had they originally been of a different race from the Scots , their language of course would be different . The contrary VOL . I. Ꭰ is the case . The names of places in the THE POEMS OF OSSIAN . 33.
Side 41
... course , de- volved upon Fergus , the fourth son , and his posterity . This Fergus , say some traditions , was the father of Congal , whose son was Arcath , the father of Fergus , properly called the first king of Scots , as it was in ...
... course , de- volved upon Fergus , the fourth son , and his posterity . This Fergus , say some traditions , was the father of Congal , whose son was Arcath , the father of Fergus , properly called the first king of Scots , as it was in ...
Side 42
... course , it is the most disinterested and noble . Men , in the last , have leisure to cultivate the mind , and to restore it , with reflection , to a primæval dignity of sentiment . The middle state is the region of complete barbarism ...
... course , it is the most disinterested and noble . Men , in the last , have leisure to cultivate the mind , and to restore it , with reflection , to a primæval dignity of sentiment . The middle state is the region of complete barbarism ...
Side 45
... course , neglected . They naturally formed themselves into small societies , independent of one ano- ther . Each society had its own Regulus , who either was , or , in the succession of a few gene- rations , was regarded as chief of ...
... course , neglected . They naturally formed themselves into small societies , independent of one ano- ther . Each society had its own Regulus , who either was , or , in the succession of a few gene- rations , was regarded as chief of ...
Side 58
... course , descended of the Milesian race , I might have committed some of those over- sights , which , perhaps , very unjustly , are said to be peculiar to them . From the whole tenor of the Irish poems , concerning the Fiona , it ...
... course , descended of the Milesian race , I might have committed some of those over- sights , which , perhaps , very unjustly , are said to be peculiar to them . From the whole tenor of the Irish poems , concerning the Fiona , it ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
ancient Annir antiquity appears arms art thou Balclutha bards battle beam beautiful behold blast Caledonians Carthon Cathmor Celtic Celtic nations character chief Clessámmor cloud Clutha Comala Connal Crimora Cuthullin Dargo dark daugh daughter death descended distant dost Druids Dunthalmo dwells eyes fame father feast fell Fillan Fingal Fion Firbolg Frothal Gaul genius ghosts grief hall hand harp heard heath heroes hill Homer Iliad Ireland Irish king of Morven language lift Lochlin Loda maid Malvina manners meteor midst mighty mist moon Morni Morven mournful nations night Odin Oithona Oscar Ossian Picts poem poet poetical poetry race renowned rise roar rock rolled rose rushed Scandinavia Scotland Scots Selma sentiment shew shield sigh silent song soul sound spear spirit Starno storm strangers stream sublime Swaran sword tears Temora thee thou tion tomb tradition Trenmor vale voice warrior wave winds youth
Populære passager
Side 312 - O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave.
Side 425 - It is night ; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain ; forlorn on the hill of winds ! "Rise, moon ! from behind thy clouds.
Side 280 - He lifted high his shadowy spear! He bent forward his dreadful height. Fingal, advancing, drew his sword; the blade of dark-brown Luno.* The gleaming path of the steel winds through the gloomy ghost. The form fell shapeless into air, like a column of smoke, which the staff of the boy disturbs, as it rises from the half-extinguished furnace.
Side 140 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; The hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Side 206 - Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me, I fondly dream ! Had ye been there...
Side 423 - OTAR 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.
Side 295 - Two stones half sunk in the ground, shew their heads of moss. The deer of the mountain avoids the place, for he beholds a dim ghost standing there.
Side 201 - The land, through which we have gone to search it, is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof; and all the people that we saw in it are men of a great stature. And there we saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants : and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.
Side 426 - O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me; hear my voice; hear me, sons of my love!
Side 163 - The flower hangs its heavy head, waving, at times, to the gale. Why dost thou awake me, O gale, it seems to say, I am covered with the drops of heaven? The time of my fading is near, and the blast that shall scatter my leaves. Tomorrow shall the traveller come, he that saw me in my beauty shall come; his eyes will search the field, but they will not find me?