The Seasons, with the life of the author, by S. Johnson1836 |
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Page v
... morn- ing I was with Sir Spencer Compton . A certain gentle- man , without my desire , spoke to him concerning me : his answer was that I had never come near him . Then the gentleman put the question , If he desired that I should wait ...
... morn- ing I was with Sir Spencer Compton . A certain gentle- man , without my desire , spoke to him concerning me : his answer was that I had never come near him . Then the gentleman put the question , If he desired that I should wait ...
Page 15
... morn , and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless ; so that scarce The bittern knows his time , with bill ingulfed To shake the sounding marsh ; or , from the shore , The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath , And sing ...
... morn , and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless ; so that scarce The bittern knows his time , with bill ingulfed To shake the sounding marsh ; or , from the shore , The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath , And sing ...
Page 20
... morning beam , to give to light , Rais'd through ten thousand diff'rent plastic tubes , The balmy treasures of the former day . Then spring the living herbs , profusely wild , O'er all the deep green earth , beyond the pow'r Of botanist ...
... morning beam , to give to light , Rais'd through ten thousand diff'rent plastic tubes , The balmy treasures of the former day . Then spring the living herbs , profusely wild , O'er all the deep green earth , beyond the pow'r Of botanist ...
Page 26
... morning dews , and gather in their prime Fresh blooming flow'rs , to grace thy braided hair , And thy lov'd bosom , that improves their sweets . See , where the winding vale its lavish stores , Irriguous , spreads . See , how the lily ...
... morning dews , and gather in their prime Fresh blooming flow'rs , to grace thy braided hair , And thy lov'd bosom , that improves their sweets . See , where the winding vale its lavish stores , Irriguous , spreads . See , how the lily ...
Page 29
... morn : Ere yet the shadows fly , he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds , and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations . Ev'ry copse Deep - tangled , tree irregular , and bushi Bending with dewy moisture o'er the heads Of the ...
... morn : Ere yet the shadows fly , he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds , and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations . Ev'ry copse Deep - tangled , tree irregular , and bushi Bending with dewy moisture o'er the heads Of the ...
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Common terms and phrases
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
Popular passages
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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...