The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson. Blair's critical dissertations, 第 2 巻1806 |
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164 ページ
... Cathmor to follow him speedily with an army , from Temora . Such was the situa- tion of affairs when the Caledonian invaders appeared on the coast of Ulster . Cairbar is represented The poem opens in the morning . as retired from the ...
... Cathmor to follow him speedily with an army , from Temora . Such was the situa- tion of affairs when the Caledonian invaders appeared on the coast of Ulster . Cairbar is represented The poem opens in the morning . as retired from the ...
170 ページ
... Cathmor is a foe to strife at the feast ! His soul is bright as that sun ! But Cairbar must fight with Oscar , chiefs of woody Temora ! His words for Cathol were many : the wrath of Cairbar burns . He shall fall on Moi - lena . My fame ...
... Cathmor is a foe to strife at the feast ! His soul is bright as that sun ! But Cairbar must fight with Oscar , chiefs of woody Temora ! His words for Cathol were many : the wrath of Cairbar burns . He shall fall on Moi - lena . My fame ...
171 ページ
... Cathmor . His towers rose on the banks of Atha ; seven paths led to his halls . Seven chiefs stood on the paths , and called the stranger to the feast ! But Cathmor dwelt in the wood , to shun the voice of praise ! Olla came with his ...
... Cathmor . His towers rose on the banks of Atha ; seven paths led to his halls . Seven chiefs stood on the paths , and called the stranger to the feast ! But Cathmor dwelt in the wood , to shun the voice of praise ! Olla came with his ...
179 ページ
... Cathmor , and coming to Fingal , related , as here , the death of his master Cormac . + Althan speaks . Doira , the woody side bourhood of Temora . of a mountain ; it is here a hill in the neigh- Arth , or Artho , the father of Cormac ...
... Cathmor , and coming to Fingal , related , as here , the death of his master Cormac . + Althan speaks . Doira , the woody side bourhood of Temora . of a mountain ; it is here a hill in the neigh- Arth , or Artho , the father of Cormac ...
184 ページ
... Cathmor † came . He heard our voice from the cave . He turned the eye of his wrath on Cairbar . " Brother of Cathmor , " he said , " how long wilt thou pain my soul ? Thy heart is a rock . Thy thoughts are dark and bloody ! But thou art ...
... Cathmor † came . He heard our voice from the cave . He turned the eye of his wrath on Cairbar . " Brother of Cathmor , " he said , " how long wilt thou pain my soul ? Thy heart is a rock . Thy thoughts are dark and bloody ! But thou art ...
多く使われている語句
arms art thou Atha bards battle beam behold bend blast blood blue blue streams Cairbar Calmar car-borne Carril Cathmor cave chace chief Clono cloud Cona Connal Cormac Cromla Cuthullin Dar-thula dark dark-brown darkened daugh daughter death dost thou echoing Erin Erin's eyes fame fathers feast feeble fell field fight Fillan Fingal Firbolg Foldath friends Gaul ghosts gleaming grey grief hair hall harp hear heard heath heroes hill king of Ireland king of Morven Lathmon Lego Lena lift light Lochlin Lubar maid Malthos midst mighty mist Moi-lena Mora Morni mournful Nathos night Oscar Ossian poem renown rise roar rock roes rolled rose rush Ryno Selma Semo shield side sigh silent song sons soul sound spear steel steps storm stream Strutha Sul-malla Swaran sword tears Temora thee thine Thou art tomb Torman Trenmor Ullin Usnoth Uthal vale voice warriors waves wind youth
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56 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 Trenmor lived ; such Trathal was ; and such has Fingal been. My arm was the support of the injured ; the weak rested behind the lightning of my steel.
9 ページ - Cromla echoes round. On Lena's dusky heath they stand, like mist that shades the hills of autumn; when broken and dark it settles high, and lifts its head to heaven. "Hail!
15 ページ - < to the souls of the heroes ! their deeds were great in fight. Let them ride around ine on clouds. Let them show their features of war. My soul shall then be firm in danger ; mine arm like the thunder of heaven! But be thou on a moonbeam, O Morna ! near the window of my rest ; when my thoughts are of peace ; when the din of arms is past.
167 ページ - The blue waves of Ullin roll in light. The green hills are covered with day. Trees shake their dusky heads in the breeze. Grey torrents pour their noisy streams. Two green hills with aged oaks surround a narrow plain. The blue course of a stream is there. On its banks stood Cairbar of Atha. His spear supports the king; the red eyes of his fear are sad. Cormac rises on his soul with all his ghastly wounds.
318 ページ - I passed, O son of Fingal, by Tor-lutha's mossy walls. The smoke of the hall was ceased. Silence was among the trees of the hill. The voice of the chase was over. I saw the daughters of the bow. I asked about Malvina, but they answered not. They turned their faces away: thin darkness covered their beauty. They were like stars, on a rainy hill, by night, each looking faintly through her mist.
17 ページ - When fled Swaran from the battle of spears? When did I shrink from danger, chief of the little soul? I met the storm of Gormal, when the foam of my waves beat high. I met the storm of the clouds; shall Swaran fly from a hero? Were Fingal himself before me, my soul should not darken with fear. Arise to battle, my thousands! pour round me like the echoing main. Gather round the bright steel of your king; strong as the rocks of my land; that meet the storm with joy, and stretch their dark pines to the...
287 ページ - Son of Alpin, strike the string. Is there aught of joy in the harp? Pour it then on the soul of Ossian: It is folded in mist. I hear thee, O bard ! in my night. But cease the lightly-trembling sound.
276 ページ - Lara's stream, is poured the vapour dark and deep : the moon, like a dim shield, is swimming through its folds. With this clothe the spirits of old their sudden gestures on the wind, when they stride, from blast to blast, along the dusky night. Often, blended with the gale, to some warrior's grave,* they roll the mist, a grey dwelling to his ghost, until the songs arise.