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The Poems of Ossian, Tr. by J. MacPherson. to Which Are Prefixed ...
Podgląd niedostępny - 2015
appear arms arose bards battle beam beauty behold bend blast blood blue called Cathmor cave chief cloud comes course Cuthullin dark daughter death descended distant dwelling echoing Erin eyes face fall fallen fame fathers feast fell field fight Fingal fire friends Gaul ghosts give gray grief hair hall hand harp head hear heard heath heroes hill king land lift light locks look maid meet midst mighty mist moon morning Morven mournful moved nature never night Oscar Ossian poems poet race raised renown rest rise roar rock rolled rose round rushed seen shield side sigh silent song sons soul sound spear spirit spread steel steps stood storm strangers stream strength sword tears thee thou thousand tomb tree turned voice warriors waves wind young youth
Strona 234 - 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. But thou thyself movest alone; who can be a companion of thy course?
Strona 167 - 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.
Strona 288 - It is thy father, O Morar! the father of no son but thee. He heard of thy fame in war; he heard of foes dispersed. He heard of Morar's renown; why did he not hear of his wound? Weep, thou father of Morar! weep; but thy son heareth thee not. Deep is the sleep of the dead; low their pillow of dust.
Strona 226 - Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day; yet a few years, and the blast of the desart comes; it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield.
Strona 285 - The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wings ; the hum of their course is on the field. What dost thou behold, fair light ? But thou dost smile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee : they bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam ! Let the light of Ossian's soul arise ! "And it does arise in its strength ! I behold my departed friends.
Strona 159 - As the troubled noise of the ocean when roll the waves on high ; as the last peal of the thunder of heaven ; such is the noise of battle.
Strona 153 - 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.
Strona 308 - Like the darkened moon, he retired in the midst of the whistling blast.
Strona 355 - Swaran," said the king of hills, "to-day our fame is greatest. We shall pass away like a dream. No sound will remain in our fields of war. Our tombs will be lost in the heath. The hunter shall not know the place of our rest.
Strona 134 - 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?