Selections from the Writings of Mrs. Margaret M. Davidson, the Mother of Lucretia Maria and Margaret M. DavidsonLea & Blanchard, 1843 - 272 sider |
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Side 177
... Ossian sung to Albion's chief ! " Carril replied , " In other days , Came ocean's sons to Erin's land : A thousand vessels bound along , And moor them on our rocky strand ; " The sons of Inisfail arose To meet the race of dark - brown ...
... Ossian sung to Albion's chief ! " Carril replied , " In other days , Came ocean's sons to Erin's land : A thousand vessels bound along , And moor them on our rocky strand ; " The sons of Inisfail arose To meet the race of dark - brown ...
Side 213
... Ossian , stand first near Fingal's arm , Gaul , lift on high thy wrathful sword , Brave Fergus , bend thy crooked yew , And strike the foeman at the word ; " Let your broad shields like moonbeams shine , Equal my deeds on battle plain ...
... Ossian , stand first near Fingal's arm , Gaul , lift on high thy wrathful sword , Brave Fergus , bend thy crooked yew , And strike the foeman at the word ; " Let your broad shields like moonbeams shine , Equal my deeds on battle plain ...
Side 214
... in stature tall ; Then Ossian's heart exulted high , In the strength of his noble sire , My sword gleam'd brightly in my hand , My bosom glowed with fire ; My locks were not then gray with age , And 214 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
... in stature tall ; Then Ossian's heart exulted high , In the strength of his noble sire , My sword gleam'd brightly in my hand , My bosom glowed with fire ; My locks were not then gray with age , And 214 MARGARET M. DAVIDSON .
Side 221
... Ossian's name , For with the spear I often fought , And strove to earn a deathless fame ; Now , blind and tearful , and forlorn , Silent I walk with little men ; Fingal , thy great and warlike race These eyes will ne'er behold again ...
... Ossian's name , For with the spear I often fought , And strove to earn a deathless fame ; Now , blind and tearful , and forlorn , Silent I walk with little men ; Fingal , thy great and warlike race These eyes will ne'er behold again ...
Side 222
... Ossian takes that opportunity to relate his own actions at the Lake of Lego , and his courtship of Evir - allin , who was the mother of Oscar , and had died some time before the expedition of Fingal into Ire- land . Her ghost appears to ...
... Ossian takes that opportunity to relate his own actions at the Lake of Lego , and his courtship of Evir - allin , who was the mother of Oscar , and had died some time before the expedition of Fingal into Ire- land . Her ghost appears to ...
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arms art thou bards battle beam beautiful blessings blood bosom bound brave breast bright brow Cairbar Calmar Carril chief cloud Connal cried Cromla's Cuthullin dark daughter dear death echoing enemy Erin Erin's eyes fair fame father fear feast feeble fight Fillan Fingal flowing tears Gaul grief hall hand hast hath heart heaven hero's heroes hill Horace Walpole husband king king of swords Lena's heath light Lochlin's lonely Lord loud maid mamma Margaret mighty Morna morning Morven's mother mournful neath night noble o'er Orpah Oscar Ossian pale peace Peru plain Plattsburgh Polly pride raise replied rise roaring rock roll Ruth Ryno scene shield side silent song sons soul sound spear spirit Stanley Starno's storm stream Swaran sweet sword tears thee thine thou tomb trembling Tura's Ullin valiant voice Volumes wagons warriors WASHINGTON IRVING waves wind young youth
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Side 152 - Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; And this shall be the sign : The heavenly Babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapt in swathing bands, And in a manger laid.
Side 256 - ... promise of never returning to Ireland, in a hostile manner. The night is spent in settling Swaran's departure, in songs of bards, and in a conversation in which the story of Grumal is introduced by Fingal, Morning comes. Swaran departs ; Fingal goes on a hunting party, and finding Cuthullin in the cave of Tura, comforts him, and sets sail, the next day, for Scotland ; which concludes the poem.
Side 230 - Raise, Oscar, rather raise my tomb. I will not yield the war to thee. The first and bloodiest in the strife, my arm shall teach thee how to fight. But remember, my son, to place this sword, this bow, the horn of my deer, within that dark and narrow house, whose mark is one grey stone ! Oscar, I have no love to leave to the care of my son.