The Poems of Ossian: &c, Volumen2J. Ballantyne, 1805 |
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Página 12
... soul , with all his ghastly wounds . The grey form of the youth appears in darkness . Blood pours from his airy sides . Cairbar thrice threw his spear on earth . Thrice he stroked his beard . His steps are short . He often stops 3 . He ...
... soul , with all his ghastly wounds . The grey form of the youth appears in darkness . Blood pours from his airy sides . Cairbar thrice threw his spear on earth . Thrice he stroked his beard . His steps are short . He often stops 3 . He ...
Página 19
... soul is bright as that sun ! But Cairbar must fight with Oscar , chiefs of woody Temora ! His words for Cathol were ... souls were not the same . The light of heaven was in the bosom of Cathmor . His towers rose on the banks of Atha ...
... soul is bright as that sun ! But Cairbar must fight with Oscar , chiefs of woody Temora ! His words for Cathol were ... souls were not the same . The light of heaven was in the bosom of Cathmor . His towers rose on the banks of Atha ...
Página 21
... soul of the king was sad . He dreaded Cairbar's gloomy thoughts , amidst the feast of shells . My son rai- sed high the spear of Cormac . of Cormac . An hundred bards met him with songs . Cairbar concealed with smiles , the death that ...
... soul of the king was sad . He dreaded Cairbar's gloomy thoughts , amidst the feast of shells . My son rai- sed high the spear of Cormac . of Cormac . An hundred bards met him with songs . Cairbar concealed with smiles , the death that ...
Página 23
... soul . The darkness of thy face is no storm to me ; nor are thine eyes the flame of death . Do I fear thy clanging shield ? Tremble I at Olla's song ? No : Cairbar , frighten the feeble : Oscar is a rock ! " " Wilt thou not yield the ...
... soul . The darkness of thy face is no storm to me ; nor are thine eyes the flame of death . Do I fear thy clanging shield ? Tremble I at Olla's song ? No : Cairbar , frighten the feeble : Oscar is a rock ! " " Wilt thou not yield the ...
Página 24
&c James Macpherson Malcolm Laing. battle . The trembling joy of Oscar's soul arose " : the wonted joy of his soul , when Fingal's horn was heard . Dark as the swelling wave of ocean before the rising winds , when it bends its head near ...
&c James Macpherson Malcolm Laing. battle . The trembling joy of Oscar's soul arose " : the wonted joy of his soul , when Fingal's horn was heard . Dark as the swelling wave of ocean before the rising winds , when it bends its head near ...
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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.