James Macpherson quotes

James Macpherson was a Scottish writer and poet, most famous for his "Ossian" cycle of poems. His works, presented as translations of ancient Gaelic poetry, sparked both admiration and controversy throughout Europe. He played a significant role in the development of Romanticism and the interest in Celtic culture. Here are 43 of his quotes:

That Fingal is not from beginning to end a translation from the Gallick, but that some passages have been supplied by the editor to connect the whole, I have heard admitted by very warm advocates for its authenticity. If this be the case, why are not these distinctly ascertained? Antiquaries, and admirers of the work, may complain, that they are in a situation similar to that of the unhappy gentleman whose wife informed him, on her death-bed, that one of their reputed children was not his; and, when he eagerly begged her to declare which of them it was, she answered, 'That you shall never know', and expired, leaving him in irremediable doubt as to them all.

James Macpherson

Star of descending night! fair is thy light in the west! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud: thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wings; the hum of their course is on the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee: they bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam! Let the light of Ossian's soul arise!

James Macpherson

Whither hast thou fled, O wind?" said the king of Morven. "Dost thou rustle in the chambers of the south? pursuest thou the shower in other lands? Why dost thou not come to my sails? to the blue face of my seas?

James Macpherson

Why is not the original deposited in some public library, instead of exhibiting attestations of its existence? Suppose there were a question in a court of justice, whether a man be dead or alive. You aver he is alive, and you bring fifty witnesses to swear it. I answer, 'Why do you not produce the man?'

James Macpherson

As autumn's dark storms pour from two echoing hills, toward each other approached the heroes.-As two dark streams from high rocks meet, and mix and roar on the plain; loud, rough and dark in battle met Lochlin and Innis-fail. Chief mixed his strokes with chief, and man with man; steel, clanging, sounded on steel, helmets are cleft on high. Blood bursts and smokes around. ... As the troubled noise of the ocean when roll the waves on high; as the last peal of the thunder of heaven, such is the noise of battle.

James Macpherson

The stream and the wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar, why the chief of the hill, his promise? Here is the rock, and here the tree! here is the roaring stream! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly from my father; with thee, from my brother of pride.

James Macpherson

I was a lovely tree, in thy presence, Oscar, with all my branches round me; but thy death came like a blast from the desert, and laid my green head low.

James Macpherson

Then rose the strife of kings about the hill of night; but it was soft as two summer gales, shaking their light wings on a lake.

James Macpherson

I beheld their chief, tall as a glittering rock. His spear is a blasted pine. His shield the rising moon! He sat on the shore, like a cloud of mist on the silent hill!

James Macpherson

Where art thou, beam of light? Hunters, from the mossy rock, saw ye the blue-eyed fair?

James Macpherson

Hail, Carril of other times! Thy voice is like the harp in the halls of Tura.

James Macpherson

Can I forget that beam of light, the white-handed daughter of kings?

James Macpherson

These pieces have been and will, I think, during my life, continue to be to me the sources of daily and exalted pleasures. The tender and the sublime emotions of the mind were never before so wrought up by the human hand. I am not ashamed to own that I think this rude bard of the North the greatest poet that has ever existed. Merely for the pleasure of reading his works, I am become desirous of learning the language in which he sung, and of possessing his songs in their original form.

James Macpherson

Sir, a man might write such stuff for ever, if he would abandon his mind to it.

James Macpherson

Sorrow, like a cloud on the sun, shades the soul of Clessammor.

James Macpherson

The gloom of the battle roared.

James Macpherson

The music was like the memory of joys that are past, pleasant and mournful to the soul.

James Macpherson

Pleasant are the words of the song," said Cuthullin, "and lovely are the tales of other times. They are like the calm dew of the morning on the hill of roes, when the sun is faint on its side, and the lake is settled and blue in the vale.

James Macpherson

The people bend before me. I turn the battle in the field of the brave. I look on the nations, and they vanish: my nostrils pour the blast of death. I come abroad on the winds: the tempests are before my face. But my dwelling is calm, above the clouds; the fields of my rest are pleasant.

James Macpherson

We may boldly assign him [Ossian] a place among those, whose works are to last for ages.

James Macpherson

Hast thou left thy blue course in heaven, golden-haired son of the sky? The west has opened its gates; the bed of thy repose is there. The waves come to behold thy beauty. They lift their trembling heads. They see thee lovely in thy sleep; they shrink away with fear. Rest, in thy shadowy cave, O sun! let thy return be in joy.

James Macpherson

Go, view the settling sea: the stormy wind is laid. The billows still tremble on the deep. They seem to fear the blast.

James Macpherson