The Poems of OssianGrant, 1926 - 417 ページ |
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arms art thou Atha Balclutha bards battle beam behold bend blast blood blue streams Cairbar Calmar car-borne Carril Carthon Cathmor cave chief Clono cloud Clutha Comala Connal Cormac Cromla Cuthullin Dar-thula Dargo dark dark-brown daughter death distant dost thou dwelling echoing Erin eyes fame father feast feeble fell field Fillan Fingal Firbolg fled Foldath friends Gaul ghosts grey grief hair hall harp hear heard heath heaven heroes hill Inis-huna Ireland Irish king of Morven Lego lift light Lochlin maid Malvina meteor midst mighty mist Moi-lena Morni mossy mournful Nathos night Oscar Ossian poem race rejoice renowned rise roar rock roes rolled rose rushed Ryno sails Scandinavia Selma shield side sigh silent song sons soul sound spear Starno steel steps storm strangers stream Sul-malla Swaran sword tears Temora thee tomb Torman Trenmor Ullin Uthal vale voice warriors waves wind youth
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164 ページ - Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day ; yet a few years and the blast of the desert comes ; it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield.
172 ページ - ... for he beholds thy beams no more ; whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art perhaps like me for a season ; thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds careless of the voice of the morning. Exult, then, O sun, in the strength of thy youth ! Age is dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on the hills : the blast of the north is on the...
148 ページ - He lifted high his shadowy spear ! He bent forward his dreadful height. Fingal, advancing, drew his sword. the blade of dark-brown Luno. The gleaming path of the steel winds through the gloomy ghost. The form fell shapeless into air, like a column of smoke, which the staff of the boy disturbs, as it rises from the half-extinguished furnace.
385 ページ - I SIT in my grief! I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream: why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with my friends, by the stream of the sounding rock. When night comes on the hill; when the loud winds arise; my ghost shall stand in the blast, and mourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth. He shall fear but love my voice!
57 ページ - 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.
31 ページ - As autumn's dark storms pour from two echoing hills, towards each other approached the heroes. As two dark streams from high rocks meet, and mix and roar on the plain ; loud, rough and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Innisfail.
87 ページ - We gave the song to the kings. A hundred harps mixed their sound with our voice. The face of Swaran brightened, like the full moon of heaven : when the clouds vanish away, and leave her calm and broad in the midst of the sky. "Where, Carril...
37 ページ - Retire, for it is night, my love, and the dark winds sigh in thy hair. Retire to the halls of my feasts, and think of the times that are past : for I will not return till the storm of war is ceased.
390 ページ - ... 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. Spent with grief, she expired, and left thee, Armin, alone. Gone is my strength in war, fallen my pride among women. When the storms aloft arise, when the north lifts the wave on high, I sit by the sounding shore, and look on the fatal rock. "Often by the setting moon I see the ghosts of my children; half viewless they...
330 ページ - Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more? — Yes! — they have fallen, fair light! and thou dost often retire to mourn. But thou thyself shalt fail, one night; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The stars will then lift their green heads: they who were ashamed in thy presence, will rejoice.