Ancient Irish MinstrelsyHodges and Smith, 1852 - 292 páginas |
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Página vii
... Morni and Lugaidh Laga , 141 Beann Gulban , 151 Cattle Prey of Tara - Duan First , 163 Cattle Prey of Tara - Duan Second , 171 Talc Mac Trone - Duan First , Talc Mac Trone - Duan Second , 183 190 PAGE Lamentation of Aile , 204 Dearg Mac ...
... Morni and Lugaidh Laga , 141 Beann Gulban , 151 Cattle Prey of Tara - Duan First , 163 Cattle Prey of Tara - Duan Second , 171 Talc Mac Trone - Duan First , Talc Mac Trone - Duan Second , 183 190 PAGE Lamentation of Aile , 204 Dearg Mac ...
Página viii
... Morni , 219 Conloch , son of Cuchullin , 229 Combat between Osgar and Illan , son of the King of Spain , 239 The Champion of Italy , 247 Defence of the Palace of Tara , 255 Patrick exhorting Ossian to attend to his Psalmody , 263 March ...
... Morni , 219 Conloch , son of Cuchullin , 229 Combat between Osgar and Illan , son of the King of Spain , 239 The Champion of Italy , 247 Defence of the Palace of Tara , 255 Patrick exhorting Ossian to attend to his Psalmody , 263 March ...
Página xvi
... Morni , is an intrepid and successful warrior . It has been remarked that he more resembles Ajax than any other of the Homeric heroes . When the Fenians have suffered defeat from the enemy , and are in danger of being totally overcome ...
... Morni , is an intrepid and successful warrior . It has been remarked that he more resembles Ajax than any other of the Homeric heroes . When the Fenians have suffered defeat from the enemy , and are in danger of being totally overcome ...
Página 3
... Morni's son , bald Conan , cries , Conan the froward and unwise , " Who but some potent lord or king , Would cross the billowy main , Or hither yon proud navy bring , If not o'er thee to reign ? — But as thy herald fleet employ That ...
... Morni's son , bald Conan , cries , Conan the froward and unwise , " Who but some potent lord or king , Would cross the billowy main , Or hither yon proud navy bring , If not o'er thee to reign ? — But as thy herald fleet employ That ...
Página 6
... Morni , shame and wo Be ours , if long we linger here , Nor haste to meet th ' insulting foe ; To stay his wild career , And let the king of Lochlin feel The edge and temper of our steel . " GAUL . By this right hand , great Finn , I ...
... Morni , shame and wo Be ours , if long we linger here , Nor haste to meet th ' insulting foe ; To stay his wild career , And let the king of Lochlin feel The edge and temper of our steel . " GAUL . By this right hand , great Finn , I ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Almhuin's ancient arms array bards Barron's Magazine beauty behold beneath blade blood boar boast bold brave breast Cairbre Caoilte champion chase chieftain Clanna combat Conan conflict Conloch Conn Connal Cormac cried crimson Cuchullin Cumhall Dargo daring dart death deeds deer Dublin E'en e'er Erin Erin's fair fame fear fell Fenian chiefs Fenian host Fergus fierce fight Fingal Finn Finn's fought Fuath Gaelic gallant Garray Gaul glaive glorious glory gold grief hand head heart heroes hill honour hounds hundred Iliad Illan Innisfail Ireland James Hardiman king king of Munster Lochlin's loud Macpherson Magnus maid Meargach meet Miss Brooke monarch Morni's ne'er night noble o'er Oscar Osgar Ossian Patrick poem pride prince proud rage renowned replies round Royal Irish Academy shield slain song sons spear stood strife strong sweet sword Talc tale Tara Tara's tell thee thou translation valour vengeance victory warriors ween wounds youth
Pasajes populares
Página 235 - To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek— There is not wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Página 42 - Such were the words of the bards in the days of song; when the king heard the music of harps, the tales of other times! The chiefs gathered from all their hills, and heard the lovely sound. They praised the voice of Cona!
Página 34 - No wonder, such celestial charms For nine long years have set the world in arms! What winning graces! what majestic mien! She moves a Goddess, and she looks a Queen. Yet hence, oh Heav'n! convey that fatal face, And from destruction save the Trojan race.
Página 225 - They closed full fast on every side, No slackness there was found ; And many a gallant gentleman Lay gasping on the ground.
Página 57 - Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, On Circe's island fell. (Who knows not Circe, The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup Whoever tasted lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a grovelling swine...
Página ix - Yea, truly, I have caused divers of them to be translated unto me, that I might understand them ; and surely they were favoured of sweet wit, and good invention, but skilled not of the goodly ornaments of poetry ; yet were they sprinkled with some pretty flowers of their natural device, which gave good grace and comeliness unto them...
Página 25 - Seven sacred tripods, whose unsullied frame Yet knows no office, nor has felt the flame; Twelve steeds unmatch'd in fleetness and in force, And still victorious in the dusty course; (Rich were the man, whose ample stores exceed...
Página 133 - They fling their weapons down. Each rushes to his hero's grasp : Their sinewy arms bend round each other : they turn from side to side, and strain and stretch their large spreading limbs below. But when the pride of their strength arose, they shook the hill with their heels. Rocks tumble from their places on high ; the green-headed bushes are overturned.
Página 241 - but feeble was the foe !" We fought, nor weak the strife of death ! He sunk beneath my sword. We laid them in two tombs of stone ; the hapless lovers of youth ! Such have I been in my youth, O Oscar ! be thou like the age of Fingal. Never search thou for battle ; nor shun it when it comes.
Página xxvi - In varying cadence, soft or strong, He swept the sounding chords along: The present scene, the future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot; Cold diffidence, and age's frost, In the full tide of song were lost; Each blank, in faithless memory void, The poet's glowing thought supplied; And, while his harp responsive rung, 'Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung.