The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson. To which are prefixed dissertations on the æra and poems of Ossian, Հատոր 11807 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 72–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 11
... raised in the minds of men some idea of a superior being . Hence it is , that in the darkest times , and amongst the most barbarous nations , the very populace themselves had some faint notion , at least , of a divinity . The Indians ...
... raised in the minds of men some idea of a superior being . Hence it is , that in the darkest times , and amongst the most barbarous nations , the very populace themselves had some faint notion , at least , of a divinity . The Indians ...
Էջ 19
... raised to a certain key , that it was almost impossible , from a similarity of sound , to substitute one word for another . This excellence is peculiar to the Celtic tongue , and is perhaps to be met with in no other language . Nor does ...
... raised to a certain key , that it was almost impossible , from a similarity of sound , to substitute one word for another . This excellence is peculiar to the Celtic tongue , and is perhaps to be met with in no other language . Nor does ...
Էջ 32
... raising of corn . It was from this , that the Galic name of the Picts proceeded ; for they are called , in that language , Cruithnich , i . e . the wheat or corn - eaters . As the Picts lived in a country so different in its nature from ...
... raising of corn . It was from this , that the Galic name of the Picts proceeded ; for they are called , in that language , Cruithnich , i . e . the wheat or corn - eaters . As the Picts lived in a country so different in its nature from ...
Էջ 43
... incursions . Instead of roving through unfrequented wilds , in search of subsistence , by means of hunting , men applied to agriculture , and raising of corn . This manner of life was the first means THE POEMS OF OSSIAN . 43.
... incursions . Instead of roving through unfrequented wilds , in search of subsistence , by means of hunting , men applied to agriculture , and raising of corn . This manner of life was the first means THE POEMS OF OSSIAN . 43.
Էջ 75
... raised to the utmost , their passions have nothing to restrain them : their imagina- tion has nothing to check it . They display themselves to one another without disguise ; and converse and act in the uncovered simpli- city of nature ...
... raised to the utmost , their passions have nothing to restrain them : their imagina- tion has nothing to check it . They display themselves to one another without disguise ; and converse and act in the uncovered simpli- city of nature ...
Common terms and phrases
ancient Annir antiquity appears arms art thou Balclutha bards battle beam beautiful behold blast Caledonians Carthon Cathmor Celtic Celtic nations character chief Clessámmor cloud Clutha Comala Connal Crimora Cuthullin Dargo dark daugh daughter death descended distant dost Druids Dunthalmo dwells eyes fame father feast fell Fillan Fingal Fion Firbolg Frothal Gaul genius ghosts grief hall hand harp heard heath heroes hill Homer Iliad Ireland Irish king of Morven language lift Lochlin Loda maid Malvina manners meteor midst mighty mist moon Morni Morven mournful nations night Odin Oithona Oscar Ossian Picts poem poet poetical poetry race renowned rise roar rock rolled rose rushed Scandinavia Scotland Scots Selma sentiment shew shield sigh silent song soul sound spear spirit Starno storm strangers stream sublime Swaran sword tears Temora thee thou tion tomb tradition Trenmor vale voice warrior wave winds youth
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 312 - O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave.
Էջ 425 - It is night ; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain ; forlorn on the hill of winds ! "Rise, moon ! from behind thy clouds.
Էջ 280 - He lifted high his shadowy spear! He bent forward his dreadful height. Fingal, advancing, drew his sword; the blade of dark-brown Luno.* The gleaming path of the steel winds through the gloomy ghost. The form fell shapeless into air, like a column of smoke, which the staff of the boy disturbs, as it rises from the half-extinguished furnace.
Էջ 140 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; The hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Էջ 206 - Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me, I fondly dream ! Had ye been there...
Էջ 423 - OTAR of descending night! fair is thy light in the west ! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud : thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock.
Էջ 295 - Two stones half sunk in the ground, shew their heads of moss. The deer of the mountain avoids the place, for he beholds a dim ghost standing there.
Էջ 201 - The land, through which we have gone to search it, is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof; and all the people that we saw in it are men of a great stature. And there we saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants : and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.
Էջ 426 - O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother? Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight. Speak to me; hear my voice; hear me, sons of my love!
Էջ 163 - The flower hangs its heavy head, waving, at times, to the gale. Why dost thou awake me, O gale, it seems to say, I am covered with the drops of heaven? The time of my fading is near, and the blast that shall scatter my leaves. Tomorrow shall the traveller come, he that saw me in my beauty shall come; his eyes will search the field, but they will not find me?