The Poems of Ossian, Volume 2

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Hugh Campbell
Sir R. Phillips, 1822 - 700 pages
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Page 294 - 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...
Page 245 - 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: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Page 343 - The flies of evening are on their feeble wings; the hum of their course is on the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee : they bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam! Let the light of Ossian's soul arise! And it does arise in its strength ! I behold my departed friends. Their gathering is on Lora, as in the days of other years.
Page 343 - Star of descending night ! fair is thy light in the west ! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud ; thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain ? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar.
Page 292 - The land, through which we have gone to search it, is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof; and all the people that we saw in it are men of a great stature. And there we saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants : and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.
Page 304 - 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. The dark moss whistles there; the distant mariner sees the waving trees...
Page 345 - ... wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar, why the chief of the hill, his promise? Here is the rock, and here the tree! here is the roaring stream! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly from my father; with thee, from my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes; we are not foes, O Salgar! Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent awhile! let my voice be heard around. Let my wanderer hear me!...
Page 245 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon 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. It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof; an image was before mine eyes; there was silence; and I heard a voice — Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Page 248 - 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.
Page 266 - 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 his head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina; " silence is in the house of her fathers.

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