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adds ages ancient antiquity appears argument authority bard battle beautiful Book Caledonians called Cathmor Celtic Celts century character circumstances clouds collection common concerning considered copies dark death Dr Smith Druids early Europe evidence existed expression Fingal Gaelic Gaul give given Glasgow Greek hand hero Highlands hills Homer human imitation important instance island Italy James John Kennedy king Laing language late learned least light literally Macpherson manner merit mind mist mountains nature never night object observe occur opinion original Ossian passage period persons poems poetry possessed powers present probably race regard remark rendered Report respect Reverend rock Roman says Scotland seems shield similar society song soul sound spirit streams supposed Tacitus term thou tion translation verse voice whole winds writers
Стр. 424 - Weep no more, woeful Shepherds, weep no more ! For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor : So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Стр. 178 - For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night. Thou carriest them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the morning they are like grass which groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut down, and withereth.
Стр. 419 - I will not leave you long ; For in your shades I deem some spirit dwells, Who, from the chiding stream, or groaning oak, Still hears and answers to Matilda^ moan.
Стр. 441 - Trenmor came, from his hill, at the voice of his mighty son. A cloud, like the steed of the stranger, supported his airy limbs. His robe is of the mist of Lano, that brings death to the people. His sword is a green meteor half-extinguished.
Стр. 187 - On the other side, Satan alarmed, Collecting all his might, dilated stood, Like Teneriffe or Atlas, unremoved. His stature reached the sky, and on his crest Sat Horror plumed ; nor wanted in his grasp What seemed both spear and shield.
Стр. 306 - The king took his deathful spear, and struck the deeply-sounding shield : his shield that hung high in night, the dismal sign of war ! Ghosts fled on every side, and rolled their gathered forms on the wind. Thrice from the winding vale arose the voice of deaths. The harps * of the bards, untouched, sound mournful over the hill. He struck again the shield; battles rose in the dreams of his host.
Стр. 374 - Green thorn of the hill of ghosts, that shakest thy head to nightly winds ! I hear no sound in thee ; is there no spirit's windy skirt now rustling in thy leaves ? Often are the steps of the dead, in the darkeddying blasts ; when the moon, a dun shield, from the east, is rolled along the sky.
Стр. 93 - O Oscar ! bend the strong in arm ; but spare the feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides against the foes of thy people ; but like the gale that moves the grass to those who ask thine aid. — So Tremor lived; such Trathal was ; and such has Fingal been. My arm was the support of the injured ; and the weak rested behind the lightning of my steel.
Стр. 155 - Grace was in all her steps. Heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love.