The Poems of Ossian: &c, Volumen2J. Ballantyne, 1805 |
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Página 16
... tears , and remembers the tombs of his children . But far before the rest the son of Ossian comes , bright in the smiles of youth , fair as the first beams of the sun . His long hair falls ' on his back . His dark brows are half hid ...
... tears , and remembers the tombs of his children . But far before the rest the son of Ossian comes , bright in the smiles of youth , fair as the first beams of the sun . His long hair falls ' on his back . His dark brows are half hid ...
Página 24
... tear ? He is not fallen yet . Many were the deaths of his arm before my hero fell ! Behold they fall before my son , like groves in the desert ; when an angry ghost rushes through " The trembling joy of Oscar's soul . ] Gray's trembling ...
... tear ? He is not fallen yet . Many were the deaths of his arm before my hero fell ! Behold they fall before my son , like groves in the desert ; when an angry ghost rushes through " The trembling joy of Oscar's soul . ] Gray's trembling ...
Página 25
... Tear on their sable way , with awful sound , And bring the groaning forest to the ground . 14 The Irish historians place the death of Cairbar in the lat- ter end of the third century ; they say he was killed in the battle against Oscar ...
... Tear on their sable way , with awful sound , And bring the groaning forest to the ground . 14 The Irish historians place the death of Cairbar in the lat- ter end of the third century ; they say he was killed in the battle against Oscar ...
Página 29
... tears of Fingal , are transcribed from the grief of the Prussians , and the tears of Frederick , in MACPHERSON'S Verses on the Death of Marshal Keith . · 17 The heart of the aged beats over thee . ] A pathetic ex- pression from the ...
... tears of Fingal , are transcribed from the grief of the Prussians , and the tears of Frederick , in MACPHERSON'S Verses on the Death of Marshal Keith . · 17 The heart of the aged beats over thee . ] A pathetic ex- pression from the ...
Página 30
... tears ' ; for the chief of the people is low ! Bran is howling at his feet : gloomy Luäth is sad , for he had often led them to the chace ; to the bounding roe of the desert ! 19 When Oscar saw his friends around , his hea- ving breast ...
... tears ' ; for the chief of the people is low ! Bran is howling at his feet : gloomy Luäth is sad , for he had often led them to the chace ; to the bounding roe of the desert ! 19 When Oscar saw his friends around , his hea- ving breast ...
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Términos y frases comunes
aislin Alpin arms art thou Atha bards battle beam behold bends beneath blast blood bosom breast brow Cairbar Cathmor chief Clatho Clono cloud Cormac Dargo dark daughter death Dermid descend Earse echoing EPIC POEM Erin eyes fair fall fame father feast fell field Fillan Fingal Firbolg fire flies Foldath Gaul ghosts gleaming grey hall harp head hear heard heath heaven hero hill hunter Iliad king Lego light locks Loda look Lumon MACPHERSON maid midst mighty mist Moi-lena moon Morven mountains mournful night numbers o'er Oscar Ossian plain poem POPE's race rise roar rock roes rolled rose round rush sable Selma shield side sighs silent Somerled song soul sound spear sruth starry plough steel stood storm stream strife Sul-malla sword tears Temora thee thou Thuit tomb tree trembling Trenmor vale voice warrior waves winds wing youth
Pasajes populares
Página 437 - For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Página 437 - SING unto the Lord a new song: sing unto the Lord, all the earth. Sing unto the Lord, bless his name ; shew forth his salvation from day to day. Declare his glory among the heathen, his wonders among all people. For the Lord is great, and greatly to be praised : he is to be feared above all gods.
Página 248 - customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Página 423 - Did you never observe (while rocking winds are piping loud) that pause, as the gust is recollecting itself, and rising upon the ear in a shrill and plaintive note, like the swell of an ^Eolian harp ? I do assure you there is nothing in the world so like the voice of a spirit.
Página 259 - Awake, /Eolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take ; The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales, and Ceres...
Página 132 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Página 200 - If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
Página 71 - Of gathering vapour, from the baffled sense Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far, The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain : Vanish the woods ; the dim-seen river seems Sullen, and slow, to roll the misty wave.
Página 355 - Whose midnight revels by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheels her pale course ; they, on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charm his ear; At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
Página 405 - A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass which whistles in the wind, mark to the 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.