The poetical works of James Thomson. With life, critical diss., and explanatory notes. The text ed. by C.C. Clarke1873 |
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... vale ; While softer gales succeed , at whose kind touch . Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost , The mountains lift their green heads to the sky . As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd , And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze ...
... vale ; While softer gales succeed , at whose kind touch . Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost , The mountains lift their green heads to the sky . As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd , And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze ...
Сторінка 8
... vale Love breath'd his infant sighs , from anguish free , And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain . That inly thrilling , but exalts it more . Nor yet injurious act , nor surly deed , Was known among those happy sons of Heaven ...
... vale Love breath'd his infant sighs , from anguish free , And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain . That inly thrilling , but exalts it more . Nor yet injurious act , nor surly deed , Was known among those happy sons of Heaven ...
Сторінка 14
... vale Its balmy essence breathes , where cowslips hang The dewy head , where purple violets lurk , With all the lowly children of the shade : Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash , Hung o'er the steep ; whence , borne on liquid wing ...
... vale Its balmy essence breathes , where cowslips hang The dewy head , where purple violets lurk , With all the lowly children of the shade : Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash , Hung o'er the steep ; whence , borne on liquid wing ...
Сторінка 15
... tread The morning dews , and gather in their prime Fresh - blooming flowers , to grace thy braided hair , And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets . 480 490 See , where the winding vale its lavish stores , SPRING . 15.
... tread The morning dews , and gather in their prime Fresh - blooming flowers , to grace thy braided hair , And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets . 480 490 See , where the winding vale its lavish stores , SPRING . 15.
Сторінка 16
James Thomson. See , where the winding vale its lavish stores , Irriguous , spreads ! See , how the lily drinks The latent rill , scarce oozing through the grass , Of growth luxuriant ; or the humid bank , In fair profusion , decks ...
James Thomson. See , where the winding vale its lavish stores , Irriguous , spreads ! See , how the lily drinks The latent rill , scarce oozing through the grass , Of growth luxuriant ; or the humid bank , In fair profusion , decks ...
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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.