The Poems of Ossian, Volume 3

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William Miller, 1812 - Scottish Gaelic poetry
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Page 59 - Daughter of Heaven, fair art thou ! the silence of thy face is pleasant. Thou comest forth in loveliness : the stars attend thy blue steps in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O Moon ! and brighten their dark-brown sides.
Page 118 - The blue waves of Ullin roll in light; the green hills are covered with day; trees shake their dusky heads in the breeze.
Page 104 - The remembrance of battles past, and the return of peace is compared to the sun returning after a storm : " Hear the battle of Lora! the sound of its steel is long since past: so thunder on the darkened hill roars, and is no more ; the sun returns with his silent beams; the glittering rocks, and green heads of the mountains, smile.
Page 330 - Did thy beauty last, 0 Ryno ? Stood the strength of car-borne Oscar ! Fingal himself departed ! The halls of his fathers forgot his steps. Shalt thou then remain, thou aged bard, when the mighty have failed ? But my fame shall remain, and grow like the oak of Morven ; which lifts its broad head to the storm, and rejoices in the course of the wind...
Page 129 - The spear of Temora glitters in thy hand, son of woody Morven ! It was the pride of an hundred kings, the death of heroes of old. Yield it, son of Ossian, yield it to car-borne Cairbar." "Shall I yield," Oscar replied, "the gift of Erin's injured king: the gift of fair-haired Cormac, when Oscar scattered his foes ! I came to Cormac's halls of joy, when Swaran fled from Fingal. Gladness rose in the face of youth : he gave the spear of Temora. Nor did he give it to the feeble, O Cairbar, neither to...
Page 328 - There is a murmur in the heath ! the stormy winds abate ! I hear the voice of FingaL Long has it been absent from mine earl Come, Ossian, come away, he says.
Page 60 - 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 shall fail, one night ; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The stars will then lift their heads: they, who were ashamed in thy presence, will rejoice.
Page 314 - So shall they search in vain for the voice of Cona, after it has failed in the field. The hunter shall come forth in the morning, and the voice of my harp shall not be heard. " Where is the son of car-borne Fingal?
Page 290 - Khali meet me, at the gates of their airy halls, tall, with robes of light, with mildly-kindled eyes. But, to the proud in arms, they are darkened moons in heaven, which send the fire of night redwandering over their face.
Page 159 - Moma, though thine arm is a tempest in war. Do I forget the king of Erin, in his narrow house ? My soul is not lost to Cairbar, the brother of my love ! I marked the bright beams of joy, which travelled over his cloudy mind, when I returned) with fame, to Atha of the streams.

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