The Poems of Ossian, Volume 1 (Google eBook)

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J. D. Dewick, 1803 - Bards and bardism
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Page 131 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my flesh stood up.
Page 191 - Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by his...
Page 277 - O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave.
Page 262 - Two stones half sunk in the ground, shew their heads of moss. The deer of the mountain avoids the place, for he beholds a dim ghost standing there.
Page 249 - 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.
Page 182 - I was a lovely tree in thy presence, Oscar, with all my branches round me : but thy death came like a blast from the desert, and laid my green head low : the spring returned with its showers, but no leaf of mine arose.
Page 267 - 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.
Page 177 - Helmets are cleft on high ; blood bursts, and smokes around. As the troubled noise of the ocean when roll the waves on high ; as the last peal of the thunder of heaven ; such is the noise of battle.
Page 201 - Roll on, ye dark-brown years; ye bring no joy on your course! Let the tomb open to Ossian; for his strength has failed. The sons of song are gone to rest. My voice remains, like a blast, that roars, lonely, on a sea-surrounded rock, after the winds are laid.
Page 157 - 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 his head. Desolate is the " dwelling of Moina; silence is in the house of her

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