The SeasonsThomas A. Ronalds, 1813 - 168 стор. |
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Сторінка 15
... looks round on nature and on life , with the eye which nature bestows only on a poet ; the eye that distinguishes , in every thing presented to its view , whatever there is on which imagination can delight to be detained , and with a ...
... looks round on nature and on life , with the eye which nature bestows only on a poet ; the eye that distinguishes , in every thing presented to its view , whatever there is on which imagination can delight to be detained , and with a ...
Сторінка 25
... Looks out , effulgent , from amid the flush Of broken clouds , gay shifting to his beam , The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes Th ' illumined mountain , through the forest streams , Shakes on the floods ; and in a yellow mist. SPRING ...
... Looks out , effulgent , from amid the flush Of broken clouds , gay shifting to his beam , The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes Th ' illumined mountain , through the forest streams , Shakes on the floods ; and in a yellow mist. SPRING ...
Сторінка 27
... look'd smiling on . Clear shone the skies , cool'd with eternal gales , And balmy spirit all . The youthful sun Shot his best rays , and still the gracious clouds Dropp'd fatness down ; as o'er the swelling mead , The herds and focks ...
... look'd smiling on . Clear shone the skies , cool'd with eternal gales , And balmy spirit all . The youthful sun Shot his best rays , and still the gracious clouds Dropp'd fatness down ; as o'er the swelling mead , The herds and focks ...
Сторінка 30
... looks erect on Heaven , E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd , And dip his tongue in gore ? The heast of prey , Blood - stain'd , deserves to bleed : but you , ye flocks , What have ye done ; ye peaceful people , what , To merit ...
... looks erect on Heaven , E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd , And dip his tongue in gore ? The heast of prey , Blood - stain'd , deserves to bleed : but you , ye flocks , What have ye done ; ye peaceful people , what , To merit ...
Сторінка 33
... looks demure , that deeply pierce the soul ; Where , with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd , Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart : O come ! and while the rosy - footed May Steals blushing on , together let us tread The morning ...
... looks demure , that deeply pierce the soul ; Where , with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd , Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart : O come ! and while the rosy - footed May Steals blushing on , together let us tread The morning ...
Загальні терміни та фрази
Aaron Hill amid art thou Autumn beam beauty beneath blank verse blast blaze bliss bloom boundless breast breath breeze clouds dark deep delight deluge descends diffused Doddington dreadful earth ether exalts fair fair brow faithless fancy fierce flame flocks flood gale gloom glowing grace grove happy heart heaven herds hills JAMES THOMSON kind light luxury matchless maze mind mingled mix'd mountains Muse Nature Nature's night o'er passions peace plain pomp pride race rage rapture rills rise roar rocks roll round rural SAMUEL JOHNSON scene season shade shake shines shoot Sir Spencer Compton smile snow soft song Sophonisba soul spreads Spring storm stream stretch'd swain sweet swelling swift tempest tender thee Thomson thou thought thunder toil tragic Muse Typhon vale vex'd virtue walk wander waste wave wide wild winds wing Winter wintry woods youth
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Сторінка 167 - tis nought to me ; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full ; And where He vital breathes, there must be joy.
Сторінка 50 - For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 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 th' enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Сторінка 166 - But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, Man marks not Thee marks not the mighty Hand ; That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ; Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring ; Flings from the Sun direct the flaming day; Feeds every creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; And, as on earth this grateful change revolves. With transport touches all the springs of life.
Сторінка 167 - While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks, Retain the sound; the broad responsive low, Ye valleys, raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns, And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song Burst from the groves; and, when the restless day, Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, Sweetest of birds, sweet Philomela ! charm The listening shades, and teach the night...
Сторінка 163 - Summer's ardent strength, Thy sober Autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled Those dreams of greatness ? those unsolid hopes Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? Those restless cares? those busy bustling days? Those gay-spent, festive nights? those veering thoughts Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life ? All now are vanished!
Сторінка 55 - But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad.
Сторінка 165 - And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In Winter awful thou ! with clouds and storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing ' Riding sublime, thou bid'st the world adore, And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
Сторінка 145 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death, And all the sad variety of pain. How many sink in the devouring flood, Or more devouring flame ! how many bleed, By shameful variance betwixt man and man.
Сторінка 165 - Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Сторінка 55 - Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round Of thirty years ; to Mercury, whose disk Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze.