The Poetical Works of James Thomson

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D. Appleton, 1854 - Всего страниц: 372
 

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Стр. 80 - Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all The stretching landscape into smoke decays...
Стр. 166 - From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression. But I lose Myself in Him, in light ineffable ! Come, then, expressive Silence, muse His praise.
Стр. 165 - 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 His praise.
Стр. 6 - And wait the approaching sign to strike, at once, Into the general choir. Even Mountains, Vales, And Forests seem, impatient, to demand The promised sweetness. Man superior walks Amid the glad Creation, musing praise, And looking lively gratitude.
Стр. 279 - A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky...
Стр. 98 - A native grace Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorn'd adorn'd the most.
Стр. 97 - And steal unfelt the sultry hours away. Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks, And, conscious, glancing oft on every side His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy. The gleaners spread around, and here and there, Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick.
Стр. 79 - Now to the sister hills-j- that skirt her plain, To lofty Harrow now, and now to where Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. In lovely contrast to this glorious view, Calmly magnificent, then will we turn To where the silver Thames first rural grows.
Стр. 166 - 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.
Стр. 143 - With Friendship, Peace, and Contemplation join'd, How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop In deep-retired distress : how many stand Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, And point the parting anguish. Thought fond man Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills, That one incessant struggle render life, 350 One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate...

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