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 16
... Winds the whole work , and sidelong lays the glebe . While thro ' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks , With measur'd step ; and lib'ral throws the grain Into the faithful bosom of the ground : The harrow follows harsh , and shuts ...
... Winds the whole work , and sidelong lays the glebe . While thro ' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks , With measur'd step ; and lib'ral throws the grain Into the faithful bosom of the ground : The harrow follows harsh , and shuts ...
Страница 18
... winds Blow not in vain . Far hence they keep repress'd Those deep'ning clouds on clouds surcharg'd with rain That , o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne , In endless train , would quench the summer blaze , And , cheerless drown the crude ...
... winds Blow not in vain . Far hence they keep repress'd Those deep'ning clouds on clouds surcharg'd with rain That , o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne , In endless train , would quench the summer blaze , And , cheerless drown the crude ...
Страница 20
... winds , Innum❜rous mixed them with the nursing mould , The moist'ning current , and prolific rain . But who their virtues can declare ? who pierce , With vision pure , into these secret stores Of health , and life , and joy ? the food ...
... winds , Innum❜rous mixed them with the nursing mould , The moist'ning current , and prolific rain . But who their virtues can declare ? who pierce , With vision pure , into these secret stores Of health , and life , and joy ? the food ...
Страница 21
... winds and waters flow'd In consonance . Such were those prime of days . But now those white unblemish'd manners , whence The fabling poets took their golden age , Are found no more amid these iron times , These dregs of life ! Now the ...
... winds and waters flow'd In consonance . Such were those prime of days . But now those white unblemish'd manners , whence The fabling poets took their golden age , Are found no more amid these iron times , These dregs of life ! Now the ...
Страница 28
... winds , that now in fluent dance , And lively fermentation , mounting , spreads All this innum'rous colour'd scene of things . As rising from the vegetable world My theme ascends , with equal wing ascend , My panting muse ! And hark ...
... winds , that now in fluent dance , And lively fermentation , mounting , spreads All this innum'rous colour'd scene of things . As rising from the vegetable world My theme ascends , with equal wing ascend , My panting muse ! And hark ...
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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.