Report of the Committee of the Highland Society of Scotland, Appointed to Inquire Into the Nature and Authenticity of the Poems of Ossian

Przednia okładka
Henry Mackenzie
Printed at the University Press; for Archibald Constable & Company, Edinburgh, and Longman, Hurst, Rees & Orme, London, 1805 - 498

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Strona 205 - As autumn's dark storms pour from two echoing hills, towards each other approached the heroes. As two dark streams from high rocks meet, and mix and roar on the plain ; loud, rough and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Innisfail.
Strona 159 - Rotha's bay received the ship. A rock bends along the coast with all its echoing wood. On the top is the circle of Loda, the mossy stone of power...
Strona 74 - Exult, then, 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.
Strona 162 - 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. His eyes appear like flames in his dark face : his voice is like distant thunder. Fingal advanced his spear in night, and raised his voice on high. ' Son of night, retire : call thy winds, and fly ! Why dost them come to my presence with thy shadowy arms?
Strona 189 - He spoke, like a wave on a rock: Who in this land appears like me ? Heroes stand not in my presence; they fall to earth from my hand. Who can meet Swaran in fight ? Who but Fingal, king of Selma of storms? Once we wrestled on Malmor; our heels overturned the woods. Rocks fell from their place; rivulets, changing their course, fled murmuring from our side. Three days we renewed the strife; heroes stood at a distance, and trembled. On the fourth, Fingal says that the king of the ocean fell; but Swaran...
Strona 218 - ... desert; so roaring, so vast, so terrible, the armies mixed on Lena's echoing heath. The groan of the people spread over the hills: it was like the thunder of night, when the cloud bursts on Cona, and a thousand ghosts shriek at once on the hollow wind.
Strona 208 - Death raises all his voices around, and mixes with the sounds of shields. Each hero is a pillar of darkness; the sword a beam of fire in his hand. The field echoes from wing to wing, as a hundred hammers that rise, by turns, on the red son of the furnace.
Strona 84 - Stretch their large spreading limbs below. But when the pride of their strength arose, they shook the hill with their heels. Rocks tumble from their places on high ; the green-headed bushes are overturned.
Strona 206 - Helmets are cleft on high. Blood bursts and smokes around. Strings murmur on the polished yews. Darts rush along the sky, spears fall like the circles of light which gild the face of night.

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