The Poetical Works of James Thomson, Том 2Bell and Daldy, 1866 |
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Сторінка xviii
... I shall hardly force a laugh before we part , for this I think will be my last letter from Edinburgh , for I expect to sail every day ; well , since I was speaking of that merry soul , I hope he is as xviii [ ET . 25 . MEMOIR OF THOMSON .
... I shall hardly force a laugh before we part , for this I think will be my last letter from Edinburgh , for I expect to sail every day ; well , since I was speaking of that merry soul , I hope he is as xviii [ ET . 25 . MEMOIR OF THOMSON .
Сторінка xix
James Thomson. of that merry soul , I hope he is as bright , as easy , as dégagé , as susceptible of an intense laugh as he used to be ; tell him when you see him that I laugh in imagination with him , ha ! ha ! ha ! Mass John , how in ...
James Thomson. of that merry soul , I hope he is as bright , as easy , as dégagé , as susceptible of an intense laugh as he used to be ; tell him when you see him that I laugh in imagination with him , ha ! ha ! ha ! Mass John , how in ...
Сторінка xxviii
... soul . ' Then terrible floods , and high winds , that usually happen about this time of the year , and have already happened here , ( I wish you have not felt them too dreadfully ; ) the first produced the inclosed lines ; the last are ...
... soul . ' Then terrible floods , and high winds , that usually happen about this time of the year , and have already happened here , ( I wish you have not felt them too dreadfully ; ) the first produced the inclosed lines ; the last are ...
Сторінка xxix
... soul inform'd ; And seldom has she known a friend like thee . " Having seen his poetry in Scotland , Mr. Forbes received him with kindness : recommended him to the Duke of Argyll , the Earl of Burlington , Sir Robert Walpole , Dr ...
... soul inform'd ; And seldom has she known a friend like thee . " Having seen his poetry in Scotland , Mr. Forbes received him with kindness : recommended him to the Duke of Argyll , the Earl of Burlington , Sir Robert Walpole , Dr ...
Сторінка xxxi
... soul of my purpose , and , even to myself , cast a light over the whole . " How rare , how happy , is it to find a judge whose discerning goodness overlooks the faults of what is well meant , at the same time that his fine enthusiastic ...
... soul of my purpose , and , even to myself , cast a light over the whole . " How rare , how happy , is it to find a judge whose discerning goodness overlooks the faults of what is well meant , at the same time that his fine enthusiastic ...
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AARON HILL Agamemnon amid Autumn beam beauty beneath breast breath breeze Castle of Indolence charm cheerful clouds Coriolanus Dear Sir death deep delight divine earth edition Ednam exalted fancy favour flame flood friendship genius gentle give gloom glowing grace grove happy heart heaven honour hope humble servant JAMES THOMSON Jedburgh kind letter Liberty lively London Lord Lord Lyttelton Lyttelton Mallet mind mingled mountains muse nature Nature's night o'er passions peace pleasing pleasure poem poet poetical poetry pride Prince of Wales rage rapture rise round rural scene Scotland Seasons Secretary of Briefs shade shining Sir Spencer Compton smile soft song Sophonisba soul Southdean spirit Spring storm stream swain sweet swelling taste tempest tender thee Thessaly thou thought Timoleon toil vale verses virtue walk wave wild winds wing Winter wintry wonder woods
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Сторінка 184 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Сторінка 187 - Or if you rather choose the rural shade, And find a fane in every sacred grove ; 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.
Сторінка 187 - 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 157 - Half afraid, he first Against the window beats ; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth ; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is : Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Сторінка 185 - 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...
Сторінка 186 - 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 His praise.
Сторінка 22 - Every copse Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads Of the coy quiristers that lodge within, Are prodigal of harmony.
Сторінка 185 - 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 39 - 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 158 - As thus the snows arise, and foul and fierce All winter drives along the darkened air, In his own loose-revolving fields the swain Disastered 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...