Report of the Committee of the Highland Society of Scotland, Appointed to Inquire Into the Nature and Authenticity of the Poems of Ossian |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 77
Page 39
... dhaithte , Fiachadar fpairn ' nda laoich , Clachan agus talamh trom Do ghluaifd iad le bonn ' n cos . ' C4 * Mr Laing is a native of Orkney . Verbatim Verbatim in English . Their burnished arms are laid afide POEMS OF OSSIAN . 39.
... dhaithte , Fiachadar fpairn ' nda laoich , Clachan agus talamh trom Do ghluaifd iad le bonn ' n cos . ' C4 * Mr Laing is a native of Orkney . Verbatim Verbatim in English . Their burnished arms are laid afide POEMS OF OSSIAN . 39.
Page 40
... arms are laid afide ; The strength of the heroes is tried ; Stones and folid earth Are overturned by their feet in the conteft . I know not if this makes any part of what Mr Macpherson detailed of the exploits of Fingal ; my memory has ...
... arms are laid afide ; The strength of the heroes is tried ; Stones and folid earth Are overturned by their feet in the conteft . I know not if this makes any part of what Mr Macpherson detailed of the exploits of Fingal ; my memory has ...
Page 100
... arms , Whofe name is Dayro Borb . To his fuit I opposed a vow , That Fingal fhould receive me from off the fea , And that I fhould never be his fpouse , Though great were his deeds , and high his fame . " Briefly replied , with ...
... arms , Whofe name is Dayro Borb . To his fuit I opposed a vow , That Fingal fhould receive me from off the fea , And that I fhould never be his fpouse , Though great were his deeds , and high his fame . " Briefly replied , with ...
Page 101
... arm , Whofe field was marked with figured sports . A huge and maffy sword Was fixed on the fide of the mighty , Over whofe hilt he fportful exercised , As he approached our people . Two javelins , winged with death , Stood in the hollow ...
... arm , Whofe field was marked with figured sports . A huge and maffy sword Was fixed on the fide of the mighty , Over whofe hilt he fportful exercised , As he approached our people . Two javelins , winged with death , Stood in the hollow ...
Page 105
... arm . ” " But tell me , bard ! The fon of my fon , and of my loins , Oscar , how did he hew down the terrible battle ? It were hard to relate , Great were the task to tell , The numbers flain in that battle , Who fell by the arms of ...
... arm . ” " But tell me , bard ! The fon of my fon , and of my loins , Oscar , how did he hew down the terrible battle ? It were hard to relate , Great were the task to tell , The numbers flain in that battle , Who fell by the arms of ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
agus ancient poetry arms authenticity bards battle beautiful bhuil biodh cath ceann Chaidh chief Chuir collection Committee Conal copy Cuthullin daoine DEAR SIR death Edinburgh edition eile Eirin Erin fame fein Fhinn Fingal Fingalians fome Fraoch fuaim fubject fuch gach Gaelic language Gaelic poetry Gaul Ghuill give hand heard heroes Highland Society Hill honour iomadh Ireland Isles James Macpherson Kenn Labhair lamh land language laoch letter Lochlin M'Don M'Lag Macdonald Macpherson maid manuscript mentioned mhic mighty Miss Brooke Morven moſt Nuair Offian Oisein original Oscar Ossian's poems paffages Patrick persons poems of Ossian published recited rehearsers repeat Reverend righ robh Scotland shield sluagh songs spear Staffa sword Temora thainig thee thofe Thog thoſe thou Thuit tion translation uair waves wind words
Popular passages
Page 226 - O Oscar! bend the strong in arms; 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 Trenmor lived; such Trathal was; and such has Fingal been. My arm was the support of the injured; the weak rested behind the lightning of my steel.
Page 209 - Like autumn's dark storms, pouring from two echoing hills, towards each other approached the heroes. Like two deep streams from high rocks meeting, mixing, roaring on the plain; loud, rough and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Innis-fail.
Page 166 - 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!
Page 257 - But behold the king of Morven! He moves, below, like a pillar of fire. His strength is like the stream of Lubar, or the wind of the echoing Cromla; when the branchy forests of night are torn from all their rocks! Happy are thy people, O Fingal! thine arm shall finish their wars. Thou art the first in their dangers; the wisest in the days of their peace. Thou speakest, and thy thousands obey: armies tremble at the sound of thy steel.
Page 171 - 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.
Page 229 - To thee I fly," with sighs she said, " O prince of mighty men ! To thee I fly, chief of the generous shells, supporter of the feeble hand ! The king of Craca's echoing isle owned me the sun-beam of his race.
Page 210 - 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.
Page 170 - And shall the sons of the wind frighten the king of Morven? No: he knows the weakness of their arms!' 'Fly to thy land,' replied the form: 'receive the wind and fly! The blasts are in the hollow of my hand: the course of the storm is mine. The king of Sora is my son, he bends at the stone of my power. His battle is around Carric-thura; and he will prevail! Fly to thy land, son of Comhal, or feel my flaming wrath!
Page 211 - Cormac's hundred bards were there to give the fight to song; feeble was the voice of a hundred bards to send the deaths to future times! For many were the deaths of heroes; wide poured the blood of the brave!
Page 191 - I beheld their chief," says Moran, " tall as a glittering rock. His spear is a blasted pine; his shield the rising moon. He sat on the shore! like a cloud of mist on the silent hill! Many, chief of heroes! I said, many are our hands of war. Well art thou named the Mighty Man, but many mighty men are seen from Tura's windy walls.