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James Thomson (September 11, 1700 – August 27, 1748) was a Scottish poet and playwright.
Born: September 11th, 1700
Died: August 27th, 1748
Quotes: 38 sourced quotes total
|Words (count)||14||4 - 37|
|Search Results||24||10 - 100|
Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot.
O Sophonisba! Sophonisba, O!
Come, gentle Spring! ethereal mildness, come.
An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and alternate labour, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven!
From seeming evil still educing good.
See, Winter comes to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad.
But yonder comes the powerful king of day, Rejoicing in the east.
These as they change, Almighty Father! these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of Thee.
Come then, expressive silence, muse His praise.
Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward age.
Base Envy withers at another’s joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
He saw her charming, but he saw not half The charms her downcast modesty conceal'd.
For still the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh, Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn.
Welcome, kindred glooms! Congenial horrors, hail!
Falsely luxurious, will not man awake?
Ships dim-discovered dropping from the clouds.
And Mecca saddens at the long delay.
Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave.
A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs.
There studious let me sit, And hold high converse with the mighty dead.
Poor is the triumph o’er the timid hare! Scared from the corn, and now to some lone seat Retired—
So stands the statue that enchants the world, So bending tries to veil the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.
Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love, And, when we meet a mutual heart, Come in between and bid us part?
Tutor'd by thee, hence Poetry exalts Her voice to ages; and informs the page With music, image, sentiment, and thought, Never to die! the treasure of mankind! Their highest honour, and their truest joy!
Sighed and looked unutterable things.
Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade.
The meek-ey'd Morn appears, mother of dews.
The kiss, snatch'd hasty from the sidelong maid.
Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears Her snaky crest.
For many a day, and many a dreadful night, Incessant lab'ring round the stormy cape.
But who can paint Like Nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
For loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorned adorned the most.
Crowned with the sickle, and the wheaten sheaf, While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain, Comes jovial on.
Whoe'er amidst the sons Of reason, valour, liberty, and virtue Displays distinguish'd merit, is a noble Of Nature's own creating.
The negligence of Nature wide and wild, Where, undisguised by mimic art, she spreads Unbounded beauty to the roving eye.
Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls, Boils round the naked melancholy isles Of farthest Thulè, and th' Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.
I know no subject more elevating, more amazing, more ready to the poetical enthusiasm, the philosophical reflection, and the moral sentiment than the works of nature. Where can we meet such variety, such beauty, such magnificence?
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, never, never shall be slaves.'