The seasons & Castle of indolence, by Thomson. The farmer's boy, Rural tales, Banks of the Wye, &c. &c., by BloomfieldScott, Webster&Geary; printed by A. Sweeting, 1842 - 415 pages |
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Page xii
... round on na- ture and on life with the eye which nature bestows only on a poet ; the eye that distinguishes , in every thing pre- sented to its view , whatever there is on which imagina . tion can delight to be detained , and with a ...
... round on na- ture and on life with the eye which nature bestows only on a poet ; the eye that distinguishes , in every thing pre- sented to its view , whatever there is on which imagina . tion can delight to be detained , and with a ...
Page 21
... round ; and dance and sport , Wisdom , and friendly talk , successive , stole Their hours away . While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs from anguish free , And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain , That , inly ...
... round ; and dance and sport , Wisdom , and friendly talk , successive , stole Their hours away . While in the rosy vale Love breath'd his infant sighs from anguish free , And full replete with bliss ; save the sweet pain , That , inly ...
Page 22
... round , impetuous rush'd , With universal burst , into the gulf ; And o'er the high - pil'd hills of fractur'd earth Wide dash'd the waves in undulation vast ; Till , from the centre to the streaming clouds , A shoreless ocean tumbled round ...
... round , impetuous rush'd , With universal burst , into the gulf ; And o'er the high - pil'd hills of fractur'd earth Wide dash'd the waves in undulation vast ; Till , from the centre to the streaming clouds , A shoreless ocean tumbled round ...
Page 24
... round , trace up the brooks The next , pursue their rocky - channell'd maze , Down to the river , in whose ample wave Their little naiads love to sport at large . Just in the dubious point , where with the pool Is mix'd the trembling ...
... round , trace up the brooks The next , pursue their rocky - channell'd maze , Down to the river , in whose ample wave Their little naiads love to sport at large . Just in the dubious point , where with the pool Is mix'd the trembling ...
Page 27
... round , the glitt'ring spire , Th ' ethereal mountain , and the distant main . But why so far extensive ? when , at hand , Along these blushing borders , bright with dew , And in yon mingled wilderness of flow'rs , Fair - handed Spring ...
... round , the glitt'ring spire , Th ' ethereal mountain , and the distant main . But why so far extensive ? when , at hand , Along these blushing borders , bright with dew , And in yon mingled wilderness of flow'rs , Fair - handed Spring ...
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Common terms and phrases
amid bade bard Barnham beam beauty behold beneath bliss bloom BLORENGE bosom breast breath breeze bright brow Cambrian mountains CASTLE OF INDOLENCE charm CHARTERHOUSE SQUARE cheerful clouds dark dear deep delight dreadful E'en earth ether ev'ry fair fair brow fame fancy feel flame flocks flood flow'rs friends gale Giles gloom glow grace green grove hand happy heard heart heaven hills Idless labour light mind mingled mix'd morn mountain Muse Nature Nature's night numbers o'er peace Phoebe plain poison'd pow'r pride rage rapture rills rise roar rocks Rooks round rous'd scene shade shining shore sigh silent sing sleep smile snow soft song soul spread Spring storm stream stretch'd summer sweet swell tempest tender thee thine Thomson thou thought toil trembling truth Twas vale vex'd virtue wave Widow Jones wild winds wing woods youth
Popular passages
Page 152 - Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll. For me — when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray Russets the plain, inspiring autumn gleams, Or winter rises in the blackening east, Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!
Page 130 - Ah little think the gay licentious proud, Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround; They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, And wanton, often cruel, riot waste; Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain.
Page 129 - Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky, In joyless fields and thorny thickets, leaves His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man His annual visit. Half afraid, he first Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor, Eyes all the smiling family askance, And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is; Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs Attract his slender feet.
Page 151 - 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 42 - Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the' enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Page 150 - 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.
Page 152 - 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.
Page 92 - Raised the strong crane ; choked up the loaded street With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames, Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods ! Chose for his grand resort.
Page 150 - With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Page 130 - His tufted cottage rising through the snow, He meets the roughness of the middle waste, Far from the track, and blest abode of Man ; While round him night resistless closes fast, And every tempest, howling o'er his head, Renders the savage wilderness more wild.