| Poetry - 1773 - 432 pages
...high. Blood burfts and fmokes around. Strings murmur on the polifhed yews. Darts rufh along the fky. Spears 'fall like the circles of light, which gild the face of night. As the noife of the troubled ocean, when roll the waves on high. As the laft peal of thunder in heaven,... | |
| Ossian - 1790 - 446 pages
...high. Blood burfts and fmokes around. Strings murmur on the polifhed yews.t Darts rufh along the fky. Spears fall like the circles of light, which gild the face of night. As the noife of the trou7 bled bled ocean, when roll the waves on high. As the laft peal of thunder... | |
| James Macpherson - 1803 - 386 pages
...steel. 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. As the noise of the troubled ocean, when roll the waves on high. As the last peal of thunder in heaven,... | |
| Ossian - 1805 - 648 pages
...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. As the noise of the troubled ocean, when roll the waves on high. As the last peal of thunder in heaven... | |
| Ossian - 1806 - 364 pages
...steel. 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. As the noise of the troubled ocean, when roll the waves on high. As the last peal of thunder in heaven,... | |
| 1807 - 536 pages
...420" 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, 425 Which gild the face of night. NEW TRANSLATION. " O paltry son of Arno. " I have suffered the storms... | |
| Ossian - 1807 - 546 pages
...420 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, 425 NEW TRANSLATION. " О paltry son of Arno. " I have suffered the storms of heaven, 400 " Tossed... | |
| |