The poems of Ossian, tr. by J. Macpherson. To which are prefixed dissertations on the era and poems of Ossian, Zväzok 1

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Strana 120 - The other contains a short, but exquisitely tender image, accompanied with the finest poetical painting. " The " music of Carril was like the memory of joys that " are past, pleasant and mournful to the soul.
Strana 123 - The land through which we have gone to search it, is a land that eateth up the inhabitants thereof; and all the people that we saw in it, are men of a great stature. And there we saw the giants, the sons of Anak, which come of the giants : and we were in our own sight as grasshoppers, and so we were in their sight.
Strana 121 - The nations shall rush like the rushing of many waters : but God shall rebuke them, and they shall flee far off, and shall be chased as the chaff of the mountains before the wind, and like a rolling thing before the whirlwind.
Strana 50 - That state, in which human nature shoots wild and free, though unfit for other improvements, certainly encourages the high exertions of fancy and passion.
Strana 152 - From the hill I return, O Morna, from the hill of the dark-brown hinds. Three have I slain with my bended yew. Three with my long bounding dogs of the chace.
Strana 99 - O gale, it seems to say, I am covered with the drops of heaven? The time of my fading is near, and the blast that shall scatter my leaves. Tomorrow shall the traveller come, he that saw me in my beauty shall come; his eyes will search the field, but they will not find me?
Strana 162 - Crugal, or find his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla, and I move like the shadow of mist. Connal, son of Colgar, I see the dark cloud of death: it hovers over the plains of Lena. The sons of green Erin shall fall. Remove from the field of ghosts.
Strana 87 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice...
Strana 125 - Where have ye been, ye southern winds ! when the sons of my love were deceived ? But ye have been sporting on plains, pursuing the thistle's beard.
Strana 118 - They fell, like three young oaks which stood alone on " the hill. The traveller saw the lovely trees, and " wondered how they grew so lonely. The blast of the " desert came by night, and laid their green heads low. " Next day he returned; but they were withered, and the

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