Who is James Macpherson

James Macpherson (Gaelic: Seumas MacMhuirich or Seumas Mac a' Phearsain; 27 October 1736 – 17 February 1796) was a Scottish writer, poet, literary collector and politician, known as the "translator" of the Ossian cycle of epic poems.

Early life and education

Macpherson was born at Ruthven in the parish of Kingussie in Badenoch, Inverness-shire. This was a Scottish Gaelic-speaking area but near the Barracks of the British Army, established in 1719 to enforce Whig rule from London after the Jacobite uprising of 1715. Macpherson's uncle, Ewen Macpherson joined the Jacobite army in the 1745 march south, when Macpherson was nine years old and after the Battle of Culloden, had had to remain in hiding for nine years. In the 1752-3 session, Macpherson was sent to King's...
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Top 10 most used topics by James Macpherson

Voice 43 Soul 41 Battle 41 Hear 38 Silent 37 King 37 Dark 36 Night 35 Son 34 Rise 33


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Comments about James Macpherson

Linusminimax: "the author of the ossian poems was james macpherson... no other scholar... ever came across anything resembling the ossianic tradition. ... in his will macpherson left 500 £ for a monument to himself... his request to be buried in westminster abbey also was granted." hoaxes p121
Kevdaly: james macpherson had a bit in common with geoffrey of monmouth when you think of it.
Standplaats_krk: so james macpherson is a vile piece of disingenous shit, is that right?
Skynewsaust: sky news host james macpherson says there’s a “cultural-wide madness” and the roots of it go back to a “rejection of objective truth”.
Austconserva: a ‘rejection of objective truth’ in society.. sky news host james macpherson says there’s a “cultural-wide madness” and the roots of it go back to a “rejection of objective truth”...
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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