The Works of Ossian, the Son of Fingal, Band 2J.Fr. Valade and sold by Theophilus Barrois, 1783 |
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Seite 3
... grief the third day after . Fingal , hearing of their unfortunate death fent Stormal the fon of Moran to bury them , but forgot to fend a bard to fing the fu memory of former times come , like the evening fun A ij CONLATH.
... grief the third day after . Fingal , hearing of their unfortunate death fent Stormal the fon of Moran to bury them , but forgot to fend a bard to fing the fu memory of former times come , like the evening fun A ij CONLATH.
Seite 35
... grief in Crathmo . - But_raife my remembrance on the banks of Lora : where my fathers dwelt . Perhaps the huf- band of Moina will mourn over his fallen Carthon . His words reached the heart of Clefsam- mor : he fell , in filence , on ...
... grief in Crathmo . - But_raife my remembrance on the banks of Lora : where my fathers dwelt . Perhaps the huf- band of Moina will mourn over his fallen Carthon . His words reached the heart of Clefsam- mor : he fell , in filence , on ...
Seite 48
... grief of Lara rife , and the fighs of the mother of Cal- mar ( 1 ) , when he was fought , in vain ( 1 ) Calmar the fon of Matha . His death is related at large , in the third book of Fingal . He was the only fon of Matha ; and the ...
... grief of Lara rife , and the fighs of the mother of Cal- mar ( 1 ) , when he was fought , in vain ( 1 ) Calmar the fon of Matha . His death is related at large , in the third book of Fingal . He was the only fon of Matha ; and the ...
Seite 62
... grief ? Have thy fifters fallen from hea- ven ? Are they who rejoiced with thee at night , no more ? - Yes ! they have fallen , fair light ! and thou doft often retire to mourn . - , of kings on the throne of that kingdom . The three ...
... grief ? Have thy fifters fallen from hea- ven ? Are they who rejoiced with thee at night , no more ? - Yes ! they have fallen , fair light ! and thou doft often retire to mourn . - , of kings on the throne of that kingdom . The three ...
Seite 67
... his eyes terrible . His fpear was a column of mift : the stars looked dim through his form . His voice was like hollow wind in a cave and he told the tale of grief . The foul of Nathos was fad , like the fun ( 1 ) in the A ROEM . 67.
... his eyes terrible . His fpear was a column of mift : the stars looked dim through his form . His voice was like hollow wind in a cave and he told the tale of grief . The foul of Nathos was fad , like the fun ( 1 ) in the A ROEM . 67.
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
againſt arms arofe art thou Balclutha bards battle beam behold bends blaft breaft Cairbar Calmar car-borne Carthon Cathmor chief cloud Clutha coaft Colla Conlath Connal Cormac courfe Crimora Cuchullin Dar-thula Dargo dark darkneſs daughter death defart defcended diftant doft thou Dunthalmo Etha eyes faid fallen fame father feaft feeble fell fide figh filent Fingal flain fleep fome fon of Morni fong foul fpear fpirit fpread friends fteel fteps ftood ftorm ftranger ftream ftrength fword Gaul ghoft gray grief hair hall harp hear heard heath heroes hill hoft king laft Lathmon Lego lift maid midft mift mighty moffy moon Morven mournful Nathos night Nuath Ofcar Offian Oithóna paffed poem prefence raiſed reft renown returned rife roar rock rofe rolled roſe Selma shield ſon ſpear ſteps tears Temora thee thouſand tomb trembling Ufnoth Ullin Uthal voice warriors waves weft wind youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 84 - Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. 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.
Seite 186 - His renown will be a sun to my soul, in the dark hour of my departure. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people! that the heroes would only say, " Behold the
Seite 84 - Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away ! 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 grapes give a good smell.
Seite 37 - The oaks of the mountains fall : the \ mountains themfelves decay with years ; the ocean fhrinks and grows again : the moon herfelf is loft in heaven ; but thou art for ever the fame ; rejoicing in the brightnefs of thy courfe. When the world is dark with tempefts ; when thunder rolls, and lightning flies ; thou lookeft in thy beauty, from the clouds, and laugheft at the ftorm.
Seite 160 - All night I stood on the shore. I saw her by the faint beam of the moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind; the rain beat hard on the hill. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak. It died away, like the evening breeze among the grass of the rocks.
Seite 23 - I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls: and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was removed from its place, by the fall of the walls. The thistle shook there its lonely head: the moss whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from the windows, the rank grass of the wall waved round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina, silence is in the house of her fathers.
Seite 222 - son of the sightless Crothar! But let others advance before thee that I may hear the tread of thy feet at thy return ; for my eyes behold thee not, fair-haired Fovar-gormo.' He went ; he met the foe ; he fell. Rothmar advances to Croma. He who slew my son is near, with all his pointed spears.
Seite 144 - What shall she do, hapless maid ! He. bleeds ; her Connal dies ! All the night long she 'cries, and all the day, " O Connal, my love, and my friend!
Seite 206 - I sit alone, O Gaul ! the dark chief of Cuthal is there. He is there in the rage of his love. What can Oithona do ?" A rougher blast rushed through the oak.
Seite 211 - Can the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the mournful brow ? I have searched for the herbs of the mountains ; I have gathered them on the secret banks of their streams. My hand has closed the wound of the brave, their eyes have blessed the son of Morni.