Fingal – Book I (James Macpherson Poems)
ARGUMENT.Cuthullin (general of the Irish tribes, in the minority of Cormac, king of Ireland) sitting alone beneath a tree, at ...
ARGUMENT.Cuthullin (general of the Irish tribes, in the minority of Cormac, king of Ireland) sitting alone beneath a tree, at ...
Quhen thai within has sene sua slaynThar men and chassyt hame agaynThai war ...
The erle off Carrik Schyr Edward,That stoutar wes than a libardAnd had na will to be ...
ARGUMENT.Night comes on. Fingal gives a feast to his army, at which Swaran is present. The king commands Ullin his ...
But this sad melancholick disquisition,Did not befit our jovial disposition,In these our days; therefore when we had mournedFor this good ...
IThe Swallows sangALIEN to us areYour fields, and your cotes, and your glebes;Secret our nests areAlthough they be built in ...
A Forest-Ranger's Story.JUST nineteen long years, Jack, have passed o'er my shouldersSince close to this spot we lay waiting the ...
Now of the hard strait of the Feinne this legend's verse shall tell:When Fionn's men had fought and won, and ...
As for Deirdre, she cried pitifully, wearily, and tore her fair hair,and she was talking of the sons of Usnach, ...
Son of the noble Fingal, Oscian,Prince of men! what tears run downthe cheeks of age? what shades thymighty soul?Memory, son ...
(VITA NOBILISSIMI DEFENSORIS SCOTIE WILELMI WALLACE MILITIS)Book IOur antecessowris that we suld of reideAnd hald in mynde, thar nobille worthi ...
1. BOYCOTT, W. 5. PALEY, G. A. 2. FERGUSON, R. S. 6. ...
(FERGUS'S SEAT.)A mountain in the Island of Arran, the summit of which resembles a gigantic human profile.WITH face turned upward ...
I'm one of the has-beens, a shearer I mean;I once was a ringer and used to shear clean;I could make ...
He climbed to the top of one of those million white pines set out across the emptying pastures of the ...
For I can snore like a bullhorn or play loud music or sit up talking with any reasonably sober Irishman ...
Fergus. This whole day have I followed in the rocks, And you have changed and flowed from shape to shape, ...
A certain poet in outlandish clothes Gathered a crowd in some Byzantine lane, Talked1 of his country and its people, ...
Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days! Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways: Cuchulain ...
Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke, High as the Saddle-girth, covering away from our ...
Who will go drive with Fergus now, And pierce the deep wood's woven shade, And dance upon the level shore? ...
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