The Complete Poetical Works of James Thomson

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H. Frowde, 1908 - 516 pages
 

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Page 249 - Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant, barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song, — where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, — '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.
Page 280 - 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.
Page 422 - WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain: "Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves!
Page 198 - 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.
Page 263 - Placed far amid the melancholy main (Whether it be lone Fancy him beguiles ; Or that aerial beings sometimes deign To stand, embodied, to our senses plain), Sees on the naked hill, or valley low, The whilst in ocean Phoebus dips his wain, A vast assembly moving to and fro, Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show.
Page 247 - 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.
Page 11 - Meantime, refracted from yon eastern cloud, Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds, In fair proportion, running from the red To where the violet fades into the sky.
Page 20 - Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint Like Nature ? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, And lose them in each other, as appears In every bud that blows...
Page 248 - The thunder rolls : be hush'd the prostrate world ; 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.
Page 228 - SEE, WINTER comes, to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad, with all his rising train ; Vapours and Clouds and Storms. Be these my theme, These ! that exalt the soul to solemn thought, And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms, Congenial horrors, hail ! with frequent foot...

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