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 201
... Fillan and Oscar are despatched to observe the motions of the enemy by night . Gaul , the son of Morni , desires the command of the army in the next battle , which Fingal pro- mises to give him . Some general reflections of the poet ...
... Fillan and Oscar are despatched to observe the motions of the enemy by night . Gaul , the son of Morni , desires the command of the army in the next battle , which Fingal pro- mises to give him . Some general reflections of the poet ...
Side 212
... Fillan , rise , my sons , And sound my horn from shore to shore ! " Ascend yon steep and rugged hill , And call the children of the foe , Shout with your father's powerful voice , Oh , haste thee , Fillan ! Ryno , go ! " Like lightning ...
... Fillan , rise , my sons , And sound my horn from shore to shore ! " Ascend yon steep and rugged hill , And call the children of the foe , Shout with your father's powerful voice , Oh , haste thee , Fillan ! Ryno , go ! " Like lightning ...
Side 214
... Fillan rose 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 .
... Fillan rose 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 219
... Fillan , fly ! View Lochlin's son across the heath , I hear the distant sound of feet , Thy come to meet the bloody death : " Oh ! let them not escape my sword , Here Erin's chiefs all bloody lie ; Low on their dark and silent beds ...
... Fillan , fly ! View Lochlin's son across the heath , I hear the distant sound of feet , Thy come to meet the bloody death : " Oh ! let them not escape my sword , Here Erin's chiefs all bloody lie ; Low on their dark and silent beds ...
Side 226
... Fillan were alone- The foe have marked our deeds this night , A few have fallen beneath our swords , The rest advance in all their might ; " As the night wind the ocean heaves , Over the white and sandy shore , So dark advance proud ...
... Fillan were alone- The foe have marked our deeds this night , A few have fallen beneath our swords , The rest advance in all their might ; " As the night wind the ocean heaves , Over the white and sandy shore , So dark advance proud ...
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alarmed Anna arms babes battle beam beautiful Beekmantown blessings bosom bowed brave breast bright brow Calmar Carril Chazy chief child cloud Connal cried Cromla's Cuthullin dark daughters dear death dreadful Duchomar enemy entreated Erin Erin's eyes fair fame father fear feeble fever Fillan Fingal flowing tears Gaul gentle grief hand happy hast hath heart heath heaven heroes hill hour husband king knew lady Lena's Lochlin's lonely Lord Louisa Macomb maid mamma Margaret mighty mind Moab Morna morning Morven's mother mournful mournful tidings Naomi neath night noble o'er Orpah Ossian pale passed peace Peru Plattsburgh played school Polly pride raised replied roll Ruth scene shield silent song sorrow soul sound spear spirit Stanley star-spangled banner storm stream Swaran sweet sword tears tender thee thine thou Torman trembled uncon valiant voice wagons watched waves wife young youth
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Side 190 - ... 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 169 - I may meet the lovely maid of Toscar." " 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.