The Seasons

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Richard Scott, and Forbes & Company, 1816 - English poetry - 234 pages

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Page 221 - Should Fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song ; where first the Sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the' Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me : Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full ; And where He vital breathes there must be joy.
Page 69 - Who would in such a gloomy state remain Longer than Nature craves ; when every Muse And every blooming pleasure wait without, To bless the wildly-devious morning walk? But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad.
Page 221 - Or if you rather choose the rural shade, And find a fane in every sacred grove ; . There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of seasons, as they roll.
Page 218 - Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes Thy glory in the Summer months, 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. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd, And spreads a common feast for all that lives....
Page 69 - With quickened step. Brown night retires. Young day pours in apace, And opens all the lawny prospect wide. The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top, Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn.
Page 69 - Falsely luxurious, will not man awake; And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, To meditation due and sacred song?
Page 63 - 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 th' enlivening spirit and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Page 219 - 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. Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound ; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Page 173 - In herbs and fruits ; whatever greens the Spring, When heaven descends in showers ; or bends the bough When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams ; Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap; These are not wanting ; nor the milky drove, Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ; Nor bleating mountains...
Page 219 - 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...

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