Ossians Einfluss auf Byrons JugendgedichteE. Felber, 1903 - 32 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
airy hall bards Berrathon big tear blast bounding breeze Calmar and Orla Campbell Canto Carthon cave chase chief citiert clouds Coleridge complete Connal couplets Cuthullin dark darkened dead departed distant Dorset Dusky echoing eddying tempest eddying winds Einfluss auf Byron Epitheton ersten finden findet Fingal Fragment Friedrich Wilmsen Fugitive Pieces gale Gedicht Geister Giaour Giessbach gleaming form Gray hair häufig bei Ossian hear heard heath hero Highland hollow winds Hours Idleness incidents and characters Jahre king Korsaren Lachin y Gair last lonely Lubar Macpherson Mathon meteor Metrum midst mist moon Morven moss mossy Motiv murmur murmuring Newstead Abbey night o'er Oscar of Alva Ossian-Ausgabe Ossian's Address Ossians Einfluss Paraphrase Phelps Poems Pope Quaker race Randnoten retires ride rises round Schnabel Scott Shades shaggy shield side sighing sighs song soul später spear spirit Strophe Tauchnitz Temora Thomson thy fathers towers variety Verse voice waves whirlwind Zeilen
Popular passages
Page 27 - For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight: They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down. Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
Page 7 - The ghosts of fathers, they say, call away the souls of their race, while they behold them lonely in the midst of woe. Call me, my father, away ! When Cathmor is low on earth, then shall Sul-malla be lonely in the midst of woe 1
Page 12 - O sun! in the strength of thy youth! Age is dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon...
Page 10 - 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...
Page 13 - Crugal, or find his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla, and I move like the shadow of mist. Connal, son of Colgar, I see the dark cloud of death: it hovers over the plains of Lena. The sons of green Erin shall fall. Remove from the field of ghosts.
Page 27 - The white wave is seen tumbling round the distant rock ; a mist rose, slowly, from the lake. It came, in the figure of an aged man, along the silent plain. Its large limbs did not move in steps ; for a ghost supported it in mid air. It came towards Selma's hall, and dissolved in a shower of blood.
Page 16 - The portrait which Ossian has drawn of himself is indeed a masterpiece. He not only appears in the light of a distinguished warrior — generous as well as brave — and possessed of exquisite sensibility— but of an aged venerable bard — subjected to the most melancholy vicissitudes of fortune — weak and blind — the sole survivor of his family — the last of the race of Fingal. The character of Fingal — the poet's own father — is a highly finished one. There is certainly no hero in the...
Page 13 - Night came down on U-thorno. Still stood the chiefs in their grief. The blast whistled, by turns, through every warrior's hair. Fingal, at length, broke forth from the thoughts of his soul. He called Ullin of harps, and bade the song to rise. " No falling fire, that is only seen, and then retires in night; no departing meteor was he that is laid so low. He was like the strong-beaming sun, long rejoicing on his hill.
Page 16 - I fall in the midst of my course. A foreign tomb receives, in youth, the last of Reuthamir's race. Darkness dwells in Balclutha ; the shadows of grief in Crathmo. But raise my remembrance on the banks of Lora, where my fathers dwelt. Perhaps the husband of Moina will mourn over his fallen Carthon.
Page 10 - Is the wind on the shield of Fingal ? Or is the voice of past times in my hall ? Sing on, sweet voice ! for thou art pleasant. Thou earnest away my night with joy. Sing on, O Bragela, daughter of car-borne Sorglan ! " It is the white wave of the rock, and not Cuthullin's sails. Often do the mists deceive me, for the ship of my love ! when they rise round some ghost, and spread...