The Poems of Ossian, 第 2 卷

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W. Strahan and T. Cadell, 1785 - 435 頁

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用戶評語  - hbergander - LibraryThing

The authenticity of Macpherson’s collection was already controversially judged, when it came, translated in several European languages, to the continent. The author was said having written the poems ... 閱讀評論全文

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第 412 頁 - Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream: Ay me!
第 408 頁 - 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.
第 411 頁 - 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...
第 401 頁 - I, like an ancient oak on Morven, I moulder alone in my place. The blast hath lopped my branches away; and I tremble at the wings of the north.
第 390 頁 - Cormac who was distant far, in Temora's echoing halls; he learned to bend the bow of his fathers, and to lift the spear. Nor long didst thou lift the spear, mildly shining beam of youth! Death stands dim behind thee, like the darkened half of the moon behind its growing light!
第 373 頁 - I have seen the walls of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had resounded in the halls : and the voice of the people is heard no more. The stream 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 its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina, silence is in the house of her fathers.
第 338 頁 - Ofcar! bend the ftrong in arms, but fpare the feeble hand. Be thou a ftream of many tides againft the foes of thy people ; but like the gale that moves the...
第 282 頁 - An American chief, at this day, harangues at the head of his tribe, in a more bold metaphorical style, than a modern European would adventure to use in an Epic poem.
第 377 頁 - Gaul in his arms, and my foul was mixed with his : for the fire of the battle was in his eyes ! he looked to the foe with joy. We fpoke the words of friendship in fecret ; and the lightning of our fwords poured together ; for we drew them behind the wood, and tried the ftrength of our arms on the empty air.
第 424 頁 - I hear, at times, the ghosts of bards, and learn their pleasant song. But memory fails on my mind. I hear the call of years! They say, as they pass along, why does Ossian sing?

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