The Poems of Ossian in the Original Gaelic with a Literal Translation Into English and a Dissertation on the Authenticity of the Poems, 第 2 巻

前表紙
W. Blackwood and Sons, 1870 - 586 ページ
0 レビュー
クチコミの確認は行っていません。しかし、Google では虚偽のクチコミをチェックし、虚偽のクチコミが見つかった場合は削除します

この書籍内から

レビュー - レビューを書く

レビューが見つかりませんでした。

ページのサンプル

多く使われている語句

人気のある引用

83 ページ - Fingal has long since fallen asleep, the ruler of the war ! Then Gaul and Ossian sat with Swaran, on the soft green banks of Lubar. I touched the harp to please the king. But gloomy was his brow. He rolled his red eyes towards Lena. The hero mourned his host. I raised mine eyes to Cromla's brow. I saw the son of generous Semo. Sad and slow he retired, from his " hill, towards the lonely cave of Tura.
544 ページ - For many a petty king ere Arthur came Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war Each upon other, wasted all the land ; And still from time to time the heathen host Swarm'd overseas, and harried what was left. And so there grew great tracts of wilderness, Wherein the beast was ever more and more, But man was less and less, till Arthur came.
562 ページ - DID not Ossian hear a voice? or is it the sound of days that are no more? Often does the memory of former times come, like the evening sun, on my soul.
51 ページ - They fling their weapons down. Each rushes to his hero's grasp: their sinewy arms bend round each other: they turn from side to side, and strain and stretch their large spreading limbs below. But when the pride of their strength arose, they shook the hill with their heels. Rocks tumble from their places on high; the green-headed bushes are overturned. At length the strength of Swaran fell; the king of the groves is bound.
298 ページ - Erin, let no voice of yours arise. The sons of Morven must fall without song. They are the foes of Cairbar. Hereafter shall the traveller meet their dark thick mist on Lena, where it wanders, with their ghosts, beside the reedy lake. Never shall they rise, without song, to the dwelling of winds.
22 ページ - Raise, Oscar, rather raise my tomb. I will not yield the war to thee. The first and bloodiest in the strife, my arm shall teach thee how to fight. But, remember, my son, to place this sword, this bow, the horn of my deer, within that dark and narrow house, whose mark is one grey stone 1 Oscar, I have no love to leave to the care of my son.
122 ページ - A thousand dogs fly off at once, grey-bounding through the heath. A deer fell by every dog ; three by the white-breasted Bran. He brought them, in their flight, to Fingal, that the joy of the king might be great ! One deer fell at the tomb of Ryno. The grief of Fingal returned. He saw how peaceful lay the stone of him, who was the first at the chase.
94 ページ - Be thy soul blest, O Carril ! ' in the midst of thy eddying winds. O that thou woulds't come to my hall when I am alone by night ! And thou dost come, my friend. I hear often thy light hand on my harp, when it hangs on the distant wall, and the feeble sound touches my ear.
206 ページ - Ullin, my aged bard ! take thou the ship of the king. Carry Oscar to Selma of harps. Let the daughters of Morven weep. We must fight in Erin, for the race of fallen Cormac. The days of my years begin to fail. I feel the weakness of my arm. My fathers bend from their clouds, to receive 'their grey-hair'd son.

書誌情報