The Poetical Works of James Thomson: With His Last Corrections, Additions, and Improvements : with the Life of the Author and an Essay on the Plan and Characters of the Poem on the Seasons, Volume 2

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Benjamin Johnson, 1804

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Page 134 - A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky...
Page 209 - When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main ; This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain : " Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves!
Page 129 - This Poem being writ in the manner of Spenser, the obsolete words, and a simplicity of diction in some of the lines which borders on the ludicrous, were necessary to make the imitation more perfect.
Page 142 - Placed far amid the melancholy main, (Whether it be lone fancy him beguiles ; Or that aerial beings sometimes deign To stand embodied, to our senses plain) Sees on the naked hill, or valley low, The whilst in ocean Phoebus dips his wain, A vast assembly moving to and fro: Then all at once in air dissolves the wondrous show.
Page 145 - Such the gay splendour, the luxurious state, Of caliphs old, who on the Tigris' shore, In mighty Bagdat, populous and great, Held their bright court, where was of ladies store ; And verse, love, music, still the garland wore : When Sleep was coy, the bard, in waiting there...
Page 142 - Whatever sprightly juice or tasteful food On the green bosom of this earth are found, And all old Ocean genders...
Page 204 - Observe the rising lily's snowy grace, Observe the various vegetable race ; They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow, Yet see how warm they blush, how bright they glow! What regal vestments can with them compare! What king so shining! or what queen so fair!
Page 134 - And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale ; And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail, Or stockdoves plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep ; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.
Page 210 - Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Serves but to root thy native oak.
Page 148 - Rout excite? Why? On each other with fell Tooth to fall; A Neighbour's Fortune, Fame, or Peace, to blight, And make new tiresome Parties for the coming Night. LIV The puzzling Sons of Party next appear'd, In dark Cabals and nightly Juntos met; And now they whisper'd close, now shrugging rear'd Th...

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