The seasons & Castle of indolence, by Thomson. The farmer's boy, Rural tales, Banks of the Wye, &c. &c., by BloomfieldScott, Webster&Geary; printed by A. Sweeting, 1842 - 415 страници |
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Страница 23
James Thomson. Were taught to blow , nor hurricanes to rage ; Sound slept the waters : no sulphureous glooms Swell'd in the sky , and sent the lightning forth ; While sickly damps , and cold autumnal fogs , Hung not , relaxing , on the ...
James Thomson. Were taught to blow , nor hurricanes to rage ; Sound slept the waters : no sulphureous glooms Swell'd in the sky , and sent the lightning forth ; While sickly damps , and cold autumnal fogs , Hung not , relaxing , on the ...
Страница 51
... sound declare extreme distress , And ask the helping hospitable hand . Resounds the living surface of the ground : Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum , To him who muses through the wood at noon : Or drowsy shepherd as he lies reclin ...
... sound declare extreme distress , And ask the helping hospitable hand . Resounds the living surface of the ground : Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum , To him who muses through the wood at noon : Or drowsy shepherd as he lies reclin ...
Страница 54
... en the soul . Echo no more returns the cheerful sound Of sharpening scythe ; the mower , singing , heaps O'er him the humid hay , with flow'rs perfumed And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard Through the dumb 54 SUMMER .
... en the soul . Echo no more returns the cheerful sound Of sharpening scythe ; the mower , singing , heaps O'er him the humid hay , with flow'rs perfumed And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard Through the dumb 54 SUMMER .
Страница 58
... sound Of a near fall of water every sense [ back , Wakes from the charm of thought : swift shrinking I check my steps , and view the broken scene . Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair and placid ; where collected all ...
... sound Of a near fall of water every sense [ back , Wakes from the charm of thought : swift shrinking I check my steps , and view the broken scene . Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair and placid ; where collected all ...
Страница 71
... sound That from the mountain , previous to the storm , Rolls o'er the muttering earth , disturbs the flood , And shakes the forest leaf without a breath . Prone , to the lowest vale , the aerial tribes Descend : the tempest - loving ...
... sound That from the mountain , previous to the storm , Rolls o'er the muttering earth , disturbs the flood , And shakes the forest leaf without a breath . Prone , to the lowest vale , the aerial tribes Descend : the tempest - loving ...
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amid bade bard Barnham beam beauty behold beneath bliss bloom BLORENGE bosom breast breath breeze bright brow Cambrian mountains CASTLE OF INDOLENCE charm CHARTERHOUSE SQUARE cheerful clouds dark dear deep delight dreadful E'en earth ether ev'ry fair fair brow fame fancy feel flame flocks flood flow'rs friends gale Giles gloom glow grace green grove hand happy heard heart heaven hills Idless labour light mind mingled mix'd morn mountain Muse Nature Nature's night numbers o'er peace Phoebe plain poison'd pow'r pride rage rapture rills rise roar rocks Rooks round rous'd scene shade shining shore sigh silent sing sleep smile snow soft song soul spread Spring storm stream stretch'd summer sweet swell tempest tender thee thine Thomson thou thought toil trembling truth Twas vale vex'd virtue wave Widow Jones wild winds wing woods youth
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Страница 152 - 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, Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!
Страница 130 - 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.
Страница 129 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. 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.
Страница 151 - Ye forests, bend ; ye harvests, wave to him — Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Страница 42 - 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.
Страница 150 - 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.
Страница 152 - 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.
Страница 92 - Raised the strong crane ; choked up the loaded street With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames, Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods ! Chose for his grand resort.
Страница 150 - With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Страница 130 - His tufted cottage rising through the snow, He meets the roughness of the middle waste, Far from the track, and blest abode of Man ; While round him night resistless closes fast, And every tempest, howling o'er his head, Renders the savage wilderness more wild.