The poetical works of James Thomson. With life, critical diss., and explanatory notes. The text ed. by C.C. Clarke1873 |
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Сторінка vi
... genius . He began early to write verses , but was so ill satisfied with them , that on the first day of each January he proceeded , with a mixture of judicial gravity and sly humour , to commit them to the flames , having first recorded ...
... genius . He began early to write verses , but was so ill satisfied with them , that on the first day of each January he proceeded , with a mixture of judicial gravity and sly humour , to commit them to the flames , having first recorded ...
Сторінка viii
... genius continued to trifle , like a babe in a meadow , " plucking witless the weak flowers , ' till it encountered the stormy theme of " Winter , " and rose instantly , as if on the wings of the blast , to the full altitude , both of ...
... genius continued to trifle , like a babe in a meadow , " plucking witless the weak flowers , ' till it encountered the stormy theme of " Winter , " and rose instantly , as if on the wings of the blast , to the full altitude , both of ...
Сторінка ix
... genius in their first efforts , alike in colleges , divinity schools , and the public press . The weak sink before them ; the morbid and the vain are crippled by them ; the strong and determined persevere through and outlive them , and ...
... genius in their first efforts , alike in colleges , divinity schools , and the public press . The weak sink before them ; the morbid and the vain are crippled by them ; the strong and determined persevere through and outlive them , and ...
Сторінка xii
... genius , pleases , delights , ravishes me ! " One is reminded of Burns's rapture , when he read poor Blacklock's letter . Yet , can we wonder that the head of a great poet , which had been covered with the deepest veil of obscurity ...
... genius , pleases , delights , ravishes me ! " One is reminded of Burns's rapture , when he read poor Blacklock's letter . Yet , can we wonder that the head of a great poet , which had been covered with the deepest veil of obscurity ...
Сторінка xvi
... genius . He was , as Coleridge truly said , " rather a great than a good poet . " Except in passages of the " Castle of Indo- lence , " there is little finish or true polish about his poetry . He did , indeed , labour much at the file ...
... genius . He was , as Coleridge truly said , " rather a great than a good poet . " Except in passages of the " Castle of Indo- lence , " there is little finish or true polish about his poetry . He did , indeed , labour much at the file ...
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The Poetical Works of James Thomson. With Life, Critical Diss., and ... James Thomson Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2019 |
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amid art thou beam behold beneath blast bliss bloom breast breath breeze Britons brow calm Capel Lofft charm Christiad clouds dark death deep delight Derry dread earth ethereal Ev'n fair fancy flame flood gale genius gloom glory Gondoline grace Greece grove hand happy heard heart Heaven HENRY KIRKE WHITE hills labour land light lonely loud lyre mingled mix'd morn mountains Muse neath night o'er peace plain poem poison'd pour'd pow'r pride rage rapture reign rills rise rocks Rome round Sabbath scene Scotland shade shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song SONNET soul sound spirit spread Spring Star of Bethlehem storm strain stream sweet swell tear tempest thee thine thou thought toil trembling vale vex'd virtue voice wandering waste wave wild winds wing wintry woods youth
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Сторінка 308 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Сторінка 228 - Then shalt thou cause the trumpet of the jubilee to sound on the tenth day of the seventh month, in the Day of Atonement shall ye make the trumpet sound throughout all your land.
Сторінка 143 - As thus the snows arise; and foul, and fierce, All Winter drives along the darkened air; In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend, Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes, Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain: Nor finds the river, nor the forest, hid Beneath the formless wild; but wanders on From hill to dale, still more and more astray; Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps, Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home Rush...
Сторінка 37 - Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Сторінка 170 - There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll. For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, Or Winter rises in the blackening east...
Сторінка 229 - And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.
Сторінка 145 - Ah little think the gay licentious proud, Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround; They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, And wanton, often cruel, riot waste; Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain.
Сторінка 169 - As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike Amid the spangled sky the silver lyre.
Сторінка 144 - In vain for him th' officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing and the vestment warm ; In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold, Nor friends, nor sacred home.
Сторінка 169 - Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound his stupendous praise; whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, In mingled clouds to him whose sun exalts, Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.