The seasons, ed. with notes by A.T. Thomson

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Page 99 - 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 436 - 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 369 - Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Page 437 - 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 206 - Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all The stretching landscape into smoke decays...
Page 437 - But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, Man marks not THEE, marks not the mighty hand That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres; Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring...
Page 438 - As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. Great source of day ! best image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On nature write with every beam His praise.
Page 75 - Doth the eagle mount up at thy command, And make her nest on high ? She dwelleth and abideth on the rock, Upon the crag of the rock, and the strong place. From thence she seeketh the prey, And her eyes behold afar off. Her young ones also suck up blood : And where the slain are, there is she.
Page 373 - ... the thousand nameless ills, That one incessant struggle render life, One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate, Vice in his high career would stand appall'd, And heedless rambling Impulse learn to think; The conscious heart of Charity would warm, And her wide wish Benevolence dilate; The social tear would rise, the social sigh; And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, Refining still, the social passions work.
Page 329 - Shed o'er the peaceful world. Then is the time For those whom Wisdom and whom Nature charm To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd, And soar above this little scene of things; To tread low-thoughted Vice beneath their feet; To soothe the throbbing passions into peace, And woo lone Quiet in her silent walks.

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