Lives of the Irish saints, Volumen4


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Página 270 - OSSIAN. The Poems of Ossian in the Original Gaelic. With a Literal Translation into English, and a Dissertation on the Authenticity of the Poems.
Página 391 - Erin weep, Ne'er again his likeness see; Long her strains in sorrow steep, Strains of immortality! Horror covers all the heath, Clouds of carnage blot the sun. Sisters, weave the web of death; Sisters, cease, the work is done.
Página 7 - Century ; now for the first time published from the original Manuscript in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin, by the Royal Irish Academy. With Introduction, Analysis of Contents, and Index, by Robert Atkinson.
Página 391 - Ere the ruddy sun be set, Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, Blade with clattering buckler meet Hauberk crash and helmet ring.
Página 395 - They are gone, those heroes of royal birth Who plundered no churches, and broke no trust, "Tis weary for me to be living on earth When they, oh, Kincora, lie low in the dust!
Página 391 - Now the storm begins to lower, (Haste, the loom of Hell prepare,) Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken'd air.
Página 391 - Gondula, and Geira, spread O'er the youthful king your shield. We the reins to slaughter give, Ours to kill, and ours to spare: Spite of danger he shall live. (Weave the crimson web of war...
Página 395 - Oh, dear are the images my memory calls up Of Brian Boru! — how he never would miss To give me at the banquet the first bright cup! Ah! why did he heap on me honour like this?
Página 258 - Around them ; — and there have been holy men Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus. But let me often to these solitudes Retire, and in thy presence reassure My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink And tremble, and are still.
Página 395 - And where is Donogh, King Brian's worthy son? And where is Conaing, the Beautiful Chief? And Kian, and Core? Alas! they are gone — They have left me this night alone with my grief, Left me, Kincora!

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