The Poems of Ossian: &c, Volume 2J. Ballantyne, 1805 - Bards and bardism |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 83
Page 5
... rest of the army , when one of his scouts brought him news of the landing of Fingal . He assembles a council of his chiefs . Foldath the chief of Moma haughtily despises the enemy ; and is reprimanded warmly by Malthos . Cairbar , after ...
... rest of the army , when one of his scouts brought him news of the landing of Fingal . He assembles a council of his chiefs . Foldath the chief of Moma haughtily despises the enemy ; and is reprimanded warmly by Malthos . Cairbar , after ...
Page 16
... 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 beneath his helmet of steel , " & c . Ipse ante alios pulcherrimus omnes ...
... 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 beneath his helmet of steel , " & c . Ipse ante alios pulcherrimus omnes ...
Page 53
... rest of the army , to mourn for his son Oscar . Upon hearing the noise of Cathmor's army approaching , he went to find out his brother Fillan , who kept the watch , on the hill of Mora , in the front of Fingal's army . In the ...
... rest of the army , to mourn for his son Oscar . Upon hearing the noise of Cathmor's army approaching , he went to find out his brother Fillan , who kept the watch , on the hill of Mora , in the front of Fingal's army . In the ...
Page 58
... depend upon the same au- thentic , and never - failing traditions with the rest of Ossian . 5 The southern parts of Ireland went , for some time , under shield of generous Cathmor . Their gathering is on that 58 BOOK II . TEMORA :
... depend upon the same au- thentic , and never - failing traditions with the rest of Ossian . 5 The southern parts of Ireland went , for some time , under shield of generous Cathmor . Their gathering is on that 58 BOOK II . TEMORA :
Page 75
... rest . When the dark- ened moon is rolled over his head , our shadowy forms may come , and , mixing with his dreams , remind him of this place 8. But why turnest thou so dark away , son of Borbar - duthul ? ” Or shatter'd ruin of a moss ...
... rest . When the dark- ened moon is rolled over his head , our shadowy forms may come , and , mixing with his dreams , remind him of this place 8. But why turnest thou so dark away , son of Borbar - duthul ? ” Or shatter'd ruin of a moss ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
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
Popular passages
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.