The Seasons, with the life of the author, by S. Johnson1836 |
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Side 15
... song , Which thy own season paints ; when nature all Is blooming and benevolent , like thee . 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 ...
... song , Which thy own season paints ; when nature all Is blooming and benevolent , like thee . 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 ...
Side 16
... song and soaring lark . Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share The master leans , removes th ' obstructing clay , Winds the whole work , and sidelong lays the glebe . While thro ' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks , With ...
... song and soaring lark . Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share The master leans , removes th ' obstructing clay , Winds the whole work , and sidelong lays the glebe . While thro ' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks , With ...
Side 21
... song went 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 ...
... song went 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 ...
Side 26
... song . Or catch thyself the landscape , gliding swift Athwart imagination's vivid eye : Or by the vocal woods and waters lull'd , And lost in lonely musing , in the dream , Confus'd , of careless solitude , where mix Ten thousand wand ...
... song . Or catch thyself the landscape , gliding swift Athwart imagination's vivid eye : Or by the vocal woods and waters lull'd , And lost in lonely musing , in the dream , Confus'd , of careless solitude , where mix Ten thousand wand ...
Side 28
... trim . Lend me your song , ye nightingales ! oh pour The mazy running soul of melody Into my varied verse ! while I deduce , From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings , The symphony of Spring , and touch a theme Unknown 28 SPRING .
... trim . Lend me your song , ye nightingales ! oh pour The mazy running soul of melody Into my varied verse ! while I deduce , From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings , The symphony of Spring , and touch a theme Unknown 28 SPRING .
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The Seasons, with the Life of the Author, by S. Johnson James Thomson Ingen forhåndsvisning tilgjengelig - 2015 |
The Seasons, with the Life of the Author, by S. Johnson James Thomson Ingen forhåndsvisning tilgjengelig - 2018 |
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
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
Populære avsnitt
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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...
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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...