Thomson and Pollok: Containing The Seasons, by James Thomson, and The Course of Time, by Robert Pollok, A. M.Philips, Sampson & Company, 1850 - Всего страниц: 438 |
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Thomson and Pollok: Containing the Seasons, by James Thomson, and the Course ... James Thomson Недоступно для просмотра - 2006 |
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age to age amid angels bard beams beauty beneath bliss blood blood divine bloom breath burning chariots of fire clouds dark death deep divine E'en earth endless eternal evermore fair faith fancy fear fell fierce fire flame flocks flood gaze gloom glorious glory God's grace groan hand happy harp hast heard heart heaven hell hills holy hope horrid immortal light living look loud lyre mercy Messiah morn mortal mortal vision mountains Muse Nature naught night numbers o'er Omnipotent passions peace poison'd praise pride rage rapture redeemed retired rise ROBERT POLLOK robes rolled round sacred seemed seraph shade shining sighs sing smile song soul spirit stood stream sweet swelling tempest thee thou thought thousand throne thunder toil trembling truth Twas utter vale vex'd virtue voice walk waste wave weeping wild winds wing wisdom wonder wrath youth
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Стр. 127 - air the whitening shower descends, At first thin wavering ; till at last the flakes • 230 Fall broad and wide and fast, dimming the day With a continual flow. The cherish'd fields Put on their winter robe of purest white. 'Tis brightness all ; save where the new snow melts Along the mazy current. Low the woods 235 Bow
Стр. 152 - ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, 45 Who shake the' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven The' impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound ; 50 Ye softer floods, that lead the
Стр. 151 - 15 In Winter awful THOU| with clouds and storms Around THEE thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd. Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing> Rid.ing sublime, THOU bidst the world adore, And humblest Nature with THY northern blast. 20 Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine, Deep felt, in these appear ! a simple train,
Стр. 152 - roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, In mingled Clouds to HIM ; whose sun exalts, Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. Ye forests, bend ; ye harvests, wave to HIM ; Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart, 60 As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Стр. 37 - His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells ; And from the crowded fold, in order, drives 65 His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn. Falsely luxurious ! will not Man awake ; And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, To meditation due
Стр. 286 - with her through death's dark vale« And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still, Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused With many tears, and closed without a cloud. They set as sets the morning star, which goes Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides Obscured among the tempests of the sky,
Стр. 151 - roll'd. Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing> Rid.ing sublime, THOU bidst the world adore, And humblest Nature with THY northern blast. 20 Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine, Deep felt, in these appear ! a simple train, Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, Such beauty and beneficence combined ; Shade, unperceived, so softening into shade •, 25
Стр. 153 - night His praise. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, 61 At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, Crown the great hymn ; in swarming cities vast, Assembled men, to the deep organ join The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear, 85 At solemn pauses, through the swelling base ; And, as each mingling flame increases
Стр. 127 - A scene of crude disjointed visions past, And broken slumbers, rises still resolved, 215 With new-flush'd hopes, to run the giddy round. Father of light and life ! thou Good Supreme ! O, teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself! Save me from folly, vanity,
Стр. 37 - sacred song ? 70 For is there ought in sleep can charm the wise ? To lie in dead oblivion, losing half The fleeting moments of too short a life ; Total extinction of the' enlighten'd soul ! Or else, to feverish vanity alive, 75 Wilder'd, and tossing through distemper'd dreams ? Who would in such a gloomy state remain