The Seasons, with the life of the author, by S. Johnson1836 |
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Page iv
... thoughts of an ecclesiastical character , and he probably cultivated with new diligence his bloseoms of poetry , which , however , were in some danger of a blast ; for , submitting his pro- ductions to some who thought themselves ...
... thoughts of an ecclesiastical character , and he probably cultivated with new diligence his bloseoms of poetry , which , however , were in some danger of a blast ; for , submitting his pro- ductions to some who thought themselves ...
Page v
... the ministry , whom the nation then thought not forward enough in resenting the depre- dations of the Spaniards . By this piece he declared him- self an adherent to the opposition , and had therefore LIFE OF THOMSON .
... the ministry , whom the nation then thought not forward enough in resenting the depre- dations of the Spaniards . By this piece he declared him- self an adherent to the opposition , and had therefore LIFE OF THOMSON .
Page x
... thought you had known me better than to interpret my silence into a decay of affection , especially as your be- haviour has always been such as rather to increase than diminish it . Don't imagine , because I am a bad corre- spondent ...
... thought you had known me better than to interpret my silence into a decay of affection , especially as your be- haviour has always been such as rather to increase than diminish it . Don't imagine , because I am a bad corre- spondent ...
Page xi
... thoughts of doing soon ) , I might possibly be tempted to think of a thing not easily repaired if done amiss . I have always been of opinion , that none make better wives than the la . dies of Scotland ; and yet , who more forsaken than ...
... thoughts of doing soon ) , I might possibly be tempted to think of a thing not easily repaired if done amiss . I have always been of opinion , that none make better wives than the la . dies of Scotland ; and yet , who more forsaken than ...
Page xii
... thoughts is original . His blank verse is no more the blank verse of Milton , or of any other poet , than the rhymes of Prior are the rhymes of Cowley . His numbers , his pauses , his diction , are of his own growth , without ...
... thoughts is original . His blank verse is no more the blank verse of Milton , or of any other poet , than the rhymes of Prior are the rhymes of Cowley . His numbers , his pauses , his diction , are of his own growth , without ...
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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...