The Seasons: By James ThomsonF. Louis, 1800 - 288 páginas |
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Página 9
... rage ; he now shut up Within his iron cave , th ' effusive south Warms the wide air , and o'er the void of heaven Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent . At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise , Scarce staining ether ...
... rage ; he now shut up Within his iron cave , th ' effusive south Warms the wide air , and o'er the void of heaven Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent . At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise , Scarce staining ether ...
Página 16
... rage ; Sound slept the waters ; no sulphureous glooms Swell'd in the sky , and sent the lightning forth ; While sickly damps , and cold autumnal fogs , Hung not , relaxing , on the springs of life . But now , of turbid elements the ...
... rage ; Sound slept the waters ; no sulphureous glooms Swell'd in the sky , and sent the lightning forth ; While sickly damps , and cold autumnal fogs , Hung not , relaxing , on the springs of life . But now , of turbid elements the ...
Página 21
... rage : Till floating broad upon his breathless side , And to his fate abandon'd , to the shore You gaily drag your unresistin prize . Thus pass the temperate hours : but when the sun Shakes from his noon - day throne the scattering ...
... rage : Till floating broad upon his breathless side , And to his fate abandon'd , to the shore You gaily drag your unresistin prize . Thus pass the temperate hours : but when the sun Shakes from his noon - day throne the scattering ...
Página 36
... rage . The trembling steed , With this hot impulse seiz'd in every nerve , Nor heeds the rein , nor hears the sounding thong Blows are not felt ; but tossing high his head And by the well - knovn joy to distant plains Attratecd strong ...
... rage . The trembling steed , With this hot impulse seiz'd in every nerve , Nor heeds the rein , nor hears the sounding thong Blows are not felt ; but tossing high his head And by the well - knovn joy to distant plains Attratecd strong ...
Página 41
... rage , Britannia's weal ; how from the venal gulph To raise her virtue , and her arts revive . Or , turning thence thy view , these graver thoughts The Muses charm : while , with sure taste refin'd 4 . SPRIN G. 42 . ...
... rage , Britannia's weal ; how from the venal gulph To raise her virtue , and her arts revive . Or , turning thence thy view , these graver thoughts The Muses charm : while , with sure taste refin'd 4 . SPRIN G. 42 . ...
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Palavras e frases frequentes
amid art thou beam beauty beneath blast blaze bliss blooming boundless breast breathes breeze chearful clouds crouds dark deep delight deluge descends dreadful earth ether exalts fair fair brow faithless fancy fierce flame flocks flood forest gale genius gentle glebe gloom glowing grace grove happy heart heaven herds hills incircled JAMES THOMSON Lapland light luxury Lycurgus matchless maze mind mingled mix'd mountains Muse Naiads nature Nature's night o'er Palemon passions peace plain poison'd pomp pride rage rapture rills rise rocks roll round rous'd rural scene season shade shining shoot silvan smile snow soft song soul spreads spring storm stream stretch'd swain sweet swell swift tempest tender thee Thomson thou thought thro thunder toil tragic Muse Typhon vale vex'd virtue walk waste wave wide wild winds wing Winter wintry wonders woods youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 233 - 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.
Página 236 - As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Great source of day! best image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On Nature write with every beam His praise.
Página 200 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain.
Página 187 - 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...
Página 235 - 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. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as Earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, ' Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
Página 236 - 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.
Página 234 - 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; And all so forming an harmonious whole ; That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
Página 5 - Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom : Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed, Oppressing life ; but lovely, gentle, kind, And full of every hope and every joy, The wish of nature. Gradual sinks the breeze Into a perfect calm ; that not a breath Is heard to quiver through the closing woods, Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves Of aspen tall.
Página 230 - Summer's ardent strength. Thy sober autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, And shuts the scene. Ah ! whither now are fled Those dreams of greatness ? those unsolid hopes Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? Those restless cares? those busy bustling days? Those gay-spent, festive nights?
Página 35 - And see where surly Winter passes off, Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts. His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, The shatter'd forest, and the ravag'd vale ; While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.