The Works of Ossian, the Son of Fingal, Band 2J.Fr. Valade and sold by Theophilus Barrois, 1783 |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 21
Seite 30
... rushed , in the pride of valour . Carthon ftood , on that heathy rock , and faw the heroes approach . He loved the ter- tible joy of his face : and his strength , in the ( 1 ) It appears , from this paffage , that clanship was ...
... rushed , in the pride of valour . Carthon ftood , on that heathy rock , and faw the heroes approach . He loved the ter- tible joy of his face : and his strength , in the ( 1 ) It appears , from this paffage , that clanship was ...
Seite 32
... towards the hero . He came , like the fullen noife of a ftorm , before the winds arife the hunter hears it in the vale , retires to the cave of the rock . : and Carthon ftood in his place : the blood is rushing 38 CARTH ON :
... towards the hero . He came , like the fullen noife of a ftorm , before the winds arife the hunter hears it in the vale , retires to the cave of the rock . : and Carthon ftood in his place : the blood is rushing 38 CARTH ON :
Seite 33
Carthon ftood in his place : the blood is rushing down his fide : he faw the coming down of the king ; and his hopes of fame arofe ( 1 ) ; but pale was his cheek : his hair flew loofe , his helmet shook on high : the force of Carthon ...
Carthon ftood in his place : the blood is rushing down his fide : he faw the coming down of the king ; and his hopes of fame arofe ( 1 ) ; but pale was his cheek : his hair flew loofe , his helmet shook on high : the force of Carthon ...
Seite 53
... rushed , in the found of his arms , like the terrible spirit of Loda ( 1 ) , when he comes in the roar of a thousand storms , and scatters battles from his eyes . He fits on a cloud over Lochlin's feas : his mighty hand is on his fword ...
... rushed , in the found of his arms , like the terrible spirit of Loda ( 1 ) , when he comes in the roar of a thousand storms , and scatters battles from his eyes . He fits on a cloud over Lochlin's feas : his mighty hand is on his fword ...
Seite 71
... rushing blaft ; and the foul of thy father is fad . But I will be fad no more ; Cairbar or Colla muft fall . I feel the returning ftrength of my arm . My heart leaps at the found of battle . The hero drew his fword . The gleaming blades ...
... rushing blaft ; and the foul of thy father is fad . But I will be fad no more ; Cairbar or Colla muft fall . I feel the returning ftrength of my arm . My heart leaps at the found of battle . The hero drew his fword . The gleaming blades ...
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
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.