The Seasons, with the life of the author, by S. Johnson1836 |
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Página 17
... eye Hurries from joy to joy ; and , hid beneath The fair profusion , yellow Autumn spies . If brush'd from Russian wilds a cutting gale Rise not , and scatter from his humid wings The clammy mildew ; or , dry - blowing , SPRING . 17.
... eye Hurries from joy to joy ; and , hid beneath The fair profusion , yellow Autumn spies . If brush'd from Russian wilds a cutting gale Rise not , and scatter from his humid wings The clammy mildew ; or , dry - blowing , SPRING . 17.
Página 19
... Beneath th ' umbrageous multitude of leaves . But who can hold the shade , while heav'n descends In universal bounty , shedding herbs , And fruits and flow'rs , on nature's ample lap ? Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth ; And ...
... Beneath th ' umbrageous multitude of leaves . But who can hold the shade , while heav'n descends In universal bounty , shedding herbs , And fruits and flow'rs , on nature's ample lap ? Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth ; And ...
Página 21
... beneath its sacred beam : For their light slumbers gently fum'd away ; And up they rose as vigorous as the sun , Or to the culture of the willing glebe , Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock . Meantime the song went round ; and ...
... beneath its sacred beam : For their light slumbers gently fum'd away ; And up they rose as vigorous as the sun , Or to the culture of the willing glebe , Or to the cheerful tendance of the flock . Meantime the song went round ; and ...
Página 23
... offended ? he , whose toil , Patient , and ever ready , clothes the land With all the pomp of harvest ; shall he bleed , And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands E'en of the clown he feeds ? and that , SPRING . 23.
... offended ? he , whose toil , Patient , and ever ready , clothes the land With all the pomp of harvest ; shall he bleed , And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands E'en of the clown he feeds ? and that , SPRING . 23.
Página 25
... beneath the tangled roots Of pendant trees , the monarch of the brook , Behoves you then to ply your finest art . Long time he , following cautious , scans the fly ; And oft attempts to seize it , but as oft The dimpled water speaks his ...
... beneath the tangled roots Of pendant trees , the monarch of the brook , Behoves you then to ply your finest art . Long time he , following cautious , scans the fly ; And oft attempts to seize it , but as oft The dimpled water speaks his ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The Seasons, with the Life of the Author, by S. Johnson James Thomson Pré-visualização indisponível - 2015 |
The Seasons, with the Life of the Author, by S. Johnson James Thomson Pré-visualização indisponível - 2018 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
Aaron Hill amid Apennine Autumn beam beauty beneath blank verse blast blaze bliss bloom bosom boundless breast breath breeze bright CASTLE OF INDOLENCE clouds deep delight descends dreadful E'en earth ether ev'ry exalts fair fair brow fancy fierce flame flocks flood gale gentle gloom glowing grace grove happy heart heaven herds hills JAMES THOMSON light luxury matchless maze mind mingled mix'd mountains Muse Nature Nature's night o'er passions peace plain poison'd pomp pride race rage rais'd rapture rills rise roar rocks roll round rous'd rural scene season shade shake shining shoot Sir George Lyttelton Sir Spencer Compton smile snow soft song Sophonisba soul spreads Spring storm stream stretch'd swain sweet swelling swift tempest tender thee Thomson thou thought thunder toil vale vex'd virtue walk waste wave wide wild winds wing Winter wintry wonders woods youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 150 - Works in the secret deep, shoots, steaming, thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring ; Flings from the sun direct the flaming day ; Feeds every creature, hurls the tempest forth, And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, With transport touches all the springs of life.
Página 84 - All ether softening, sober Evening takes Her wonted station in the middle air; A thousand shadows at her beck. First this She sends on earth ; then that, of deeper dye, Steals soft behind; and then a deeper still, In circle following circle, gathers round, To close the face of things. A fresher gale Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn ; While the quail clamours for his running mate.
Página 17 - In all the colours of the flushing year, By Nature's swift and secret-working hand, The garden glows, and fills the liberal air With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd fruit Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd, Within its crimson folds.
Página 151 - 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.
Página xiv - Father of light and life, Thou Good Supreme ! O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself ! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, From every low pursuit ; and feed my soul With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure, Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss...
Página 148 - Tis come, the glorious morn ! the second birth Of heaven and earth ! awakening Nature hears The new-creating word, and starts to life In every heighten'd form ; from pain and death For ever free.
Página 150 - And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In Winter awful THOU ! with clouds and storms Around THEE thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd.
Página 148 - See here thy pictur'd life ; pass some few years, Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength > Thy sober Autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, And shuts the scene.
Página 151 - 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, 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.
Página 131 - With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd, How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop In deep retir'd 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, One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate...