 Oh! from the rock on the hill; from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead! speak, I will not be afraid! Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed? No feeble voice is on the gale; no answer half-drowned...  The Light of Other Days - Стр. 122авторы: John Edmund Reade - 1858Полный просмотр - Подробнее о книге
 | 1773 - Страниц: 432
...me, fons of my love ! They are fllent ; filent for ever ! Cold, cold are their breafts of clay ! Oh ! from the rock on the hill; from the top of the windy fteep, fpeak, ye ghofts of the dead ! fpeak, I will not fee afraid ! Whither are ye gone to reft ?... | |
 | Ossian - 1790 - Страниц: 446
...me, fons of my love ! They are filent ; filent for ever ! Cold, cold are their breafts of clay ! Oh ! from the rock on the hill ; from the top of the windy fteep, fpeak, ye ghofts of the dead ! fpeak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are ye gone to reft ? In... | |
 | 1803 - Страниц: 388
...me, sons of my love ! They are silent 3 silent for ever ! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay ! Oh ! from the rock on the hill ; from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead ! speak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are ye gone to rest ? In what cave of the hill shall I find... | |
 | Ossian - 1805 - Страниц: 648
...me, sons of my love ! The} are silent ; silent tor ever ! Cold, cold arc their breasts of clay ! Oh ! from the rock on the hill ; from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead ! speak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are ye gone to rest ? In what cave of the hill shall I find... | |
 | Ossian - 1806 - Страниц: 366
...me, sons of my love! They are silent; silent for ever ! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay ! Oh ! from the rock on the hill ; from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead! speak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find the... | |
 | Richard Clark - 1814 - Страниц: 530
...bards of old be near. We sit at the rock, but there is no voice ; no light but the meteor of fire. O ! from the rock on the hill, from the top of the windy steep ! O ! speak, ye ghosts of the dead ! O ! whither are ye gone to rest ? In what cave of the hill shall... | |
 | Domestic, literary and village sketches - 1823 - Страниц: 168
...emotion would be winds roar aloud, and we are ready to exclaim, — " Oh from the rock of the hill, from the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead, whither are ye gone to rest ?" when we recall the melancholy catastrophe which there befel two friends, students from Oxford, who,... | |
 | Robert Chambers - 1830 - Страниц: 844
...eons of my love I They are silent ; siler.t for ever ! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay I Oh ! [.\.].O//, , I speak, I will not be afraid I Whither are you gone to rest ? In what cave of the hill shall I find... | |
 | Robert Chambers - 1844 - Страниц: 738
...me, sons of my love ! They arc silent ; silent for ever! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay! Oh! nd almost terrible illustration of this original feature of his poetry : — ! speak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are you gone to rest ! In what cave of the hill shall I find... | |
 | Robert Chambers - 1844 - Страниц: 746
...me, sons of my love ! They are silent ; silent for ever! Cold, cold are their breasts of clay! Oh! T| ! speak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are you gone to rest ! lu what cave of the hill shall I find... | |
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