Ancient Irish MinstrelsyHodges and Smith, 1852 - 292 páginas |
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Página 17
... we trod Beneath our feet on the blood - drenched sod . VII . In the vortex of the battle - field Where the bravest fought and the strongest reeled , Where loudest din of battle rose , Where fiercest rung MAGNUS THE GREAT . 17.
... we trod Beneath our feet on the blood - drenched sod . VII . In the vortex of the battle - field Where the bravest fought and the strongest reeled , Where loudest din of battle rose , Where fiercest rung MAGNUS THE GREAT . 17.
Página 19
... fought till not a survivor was left . The victory of the Fenians , like that of Pyrrhus over the Romans , was so dearly bought that another such would " have utterly undone them . " It was one of those victories " For which the ...
... fought till not a survivor was left . The victory of the Fenians , like that of Pyrrhus over the Romans , was so dearly bought that another such would " have utterly undone them . " It was one of those victories " For which the ...
Página 29
... it grieves my soul to tell How the gallant Fenians fought and fell , And drenched with blood the plain . Till at the solemn close of day In death thrice ten great chieftains lay . XIV . Yet , O believe me , generous Sage LAY OF ARGEAN . 29.
... it grieves my soul to tell How the gallant Fenians fought and fell , And drenched with blood the plain . Till at the solemn close of day In death thrice ten great chieftains lay . XIV . Yet , O believe me , generous Sage LAY OF ARGEAN . 29.
Página 32
... fought field we won , Our triumph had us near undone . Then joy and glory crowned my brow , Though poor I am and wretched now . * Macpherson gives a different termination to the exploits of Lochlin's sons . His Fingal commands to " stop ...
... fought field we won , Our triumph had us near undone . Then joy and glory crowned my brow , Though poor I am and wretched now . * Macpherson gives a different termination to the exploits of Lochlin's sons . His Fingal commands to " stop ...
Página 42
... fought . The hunter may say when he leans on a mossy tomb , here Fingal and Swaran fought , the heroes of other years . Thus hereafter shall he say , our fame shall last for ever . " It was usual with the ancient Irish , as with other ...
... fought . The hunter may say when he leans on a mossy tomb , here Fingal and Swaran fought , the heroes of other years . Thus hereafter shall he say , our fame shall last for ever . " It was usual with the ancient Irish , as with other ...
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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.