The Poems of Ossian, Volume 2D. & G. Bruce, 1810 |
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Page 8
... hand ; he spoke to Morven's king . " " Fingal ! thou king of heroes ! Ossian , next to " him in war ! ye have fought in your youth ; your names are renowned in song . Oscar is like " the mist of Cona ; I appear and vanish away . " The ...
... hand ; he spoke to Morven's king . " " Fingal ! thou king of heroes ! Ossian , next to " him in war ! ye have fought in your youth ; your names are renowned in song . Oscar is like " the mist of Cona ; I appear and vanish away . " The ...
Page 9
... hand . Thus is the story de Kvered down by tradition ; though the poet , to raise the character of his son , makes Oscar himself propose the expedition . VOL . II . C Three days they feasted together ; on the fourth , A POEM . 9.
... hand . Thus is the story de Kvered down by tradition ; though the poet , to raise the character of his son , makes Oscar himself propose the expedition . VOL . II . C Three days they feasted together ; on the fourth , A POEM . 9.
Page 25
... hand : five dark grey dogs attended his steps . He saw fierce Erath on the shore : he sei- zed and bound him to an oak . Thick wind the thongs of the hide around his limbs ; he loads the wind with his groans . Arindal ascends the deep ...
... hand : five dark grey dogs attended his steps . He saw fierce Erath on the shore : he sei- zed and bound him to an oak . Thick wind the thongs of the hide around his limbs ; he loads the wind with his groans . Arindal ascends the deep ...
Page 31
... hands of war . Well art thou named , the Migh- " ty Man : but many mighty men are seen from " Tura's windy walls ... hand . " Who can meet Swaran in fight ? Who but Fin- 66 દર gal , king of Selma of Storms ? Once we wrest- " led on ...
... hands of war . Well art thou named , the Migh- " ty Man : but many mighty men are seen from " Tura's windy walls ... hand . " Who can meet Swaran in fight ? Who but Fin- 66 દર gal , king of Selma of Storms ? Once we wrest- " led on ...
Page 33
... hand is bent on fight , my " is for the peace of Erin.§ Behold , thou first in heart * Crom - leach signified a place of worship among the Druids . It is here the proper name of a hill on the coast of Ullin or Ulster . + Ireland , so ...
... hand is bent on fight , my " is for the peace of Erin.§ Behold , thou first in heart * Crom - leach signified a place of worship among the Druids . It is here the proper name of a hill on the coast of Ullin or Ulster . + Ireland , so ...
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Common terms and phrases
arms art thou Atha bards battle beam behold bend blast blood blue streams Cairbar Calmar car-borne Carril Cathmor cave chief Clono cloud Cona Connal Cormac Cromla Cuthullin Dar-thula dark dark-brown darkened daugh daughter death distant dost thou echoing Erin Erin's eyes fame fathers feast feeble fell field fight Fillan Fingal fled Foldath friends Gaul ghosts gleaming grey grief hall harp hear heard heath heroes hill Inis-huna king of Ireland king of Morven king of swords Lathmon Lego Lena light Lochlin Lubar maid midst mighty mist Moi-lena Mora Morni mournful Nathos night Oscar Ossian poem renown rise roar rock roes rolled rose rush Ryno Selma Semo shield side sigh silent song sons soul sound steel steps storm stream Strutha Sul-malla Swaran sword tears Temora thee thine Thou art tomb Torman Trenmor Ullin Usnoth Uthal vale voice warriors waves wind youth
Popular passages
Page 17 - ... stream and the wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar, why the chief of the hill, his promise? Here is the rock, and here the tree! here is the roaring stream! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly, from my father; with thee, from my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes; we are not foes, O Salgar! Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard around. Let my...
Page 56 - She " was covered with the Light of Beauty; but her " heart was the House of Pride.
Page 160 - The music of Carryl was, like the ." memory of joys that are past, pleasant and
Page 20 - ... hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee, no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan. "Who on his staff is this? Who is this whose head is white with age, whose eyes are red with tears, who quakes at every step? It is thy father, O Morar!
Page 5 - OUR youth is like the dream of the hunter on the hill of heath. 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 18 - I sit in my grief! I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream! why should I stay behind?
Page 19 - Morar! as a roe on the desart; terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the storm. Thy sword in battle, as lightning in the field. Thy voice was a stream after rain ; like thunder on distant hills.
Page 137 - Whither dost thou retire from thy course, when the darkness of thy countenance grows? hast thou thy hall, like Ossian ? dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? have thy sisters fallen from heaven ? are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more ? Yes, they have fallen, fair light ! and thou dost often retire to mourn.
Page 71 - 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 339 - Bring me the harp, son of Alpin. Another song shall rise. My soul shall depart in the sound. My fathers shall hear it in their airy hall. Their dim faces shall hang, with joy, from their clouds; and their hands receive their son. The aged oak bends over the stream. It sighs with all its moss. The withered fern whistles near, and mixes, as it waves, with Ossian's hair. 'Strike the harp, and raise the song: be near, with all your wings, ye winds. Bear the mournful sound away to Fingal's airy hall....