The works of mr. James Thomson, to which is prefixed the life of the author by P. Murdoch

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Page 128 - To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine; All thine shall be the subject main, And every shore it circles, thine.
Page 42 - Cast on the wildest of the Cyclad Isles, Where never human foot had mark'd the shore, These ruffians left me. — Yet believe me, Areas, Such is the rooted love we bear mankind, All ruffians as they were, I never heard A sound so dismal as their parting oars.
Page 128 - 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 256 - Unseen, that rules th' illimitable world, — That guides its motions, from the brightest star To the least dust of this sin-tainted mould ; While man, who madly deems himself the Lord of all, Is nought but weakness and dependence.
Page 302 - As thou durst never ask ; a perfect union Of their whole nation with imperial Rome, In all her privileges, all her rights ; By the just gods, I will. — What would'st thou more ? Auf. What would I more, proud Roman ? This I would — Fire the cursed forest, where these Roman wolves Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them...
Page 217 - Tis past — Your wrongs, I own, may well transport The wisest mind — But henceforth, noble Osmond, Do me more justice, honour more my truth, Nor mark me with an eye of squint suspicion — These jars apart — You may repose your soul On my firm faith and unremitting friendship.
Page 237 - Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line which, dying, he could wish to blot.
Page 293 - Treat me thyself with more respect, my son ; Nor dare to shock my ears with such proposals. Shall I desert my country, I who come To plead her cause ? Ah no ! A grave in Rome Would better please me, than a throne at Antium. How hast thou thus forsaken all my...
Page 177 - Oh, my Rodolpho, come, And save me from this traitor ! Hence, I say. " Avoid my presence strait ! and know, old man, " Thou, my worst foe beneath the mask of friendship, " Who, not content to trample in the dust " My dearest rights, dost with cool insolence " Persist, and call it duty ; hadst thou not " A daughter that protects thee, thou shouldst feel " The vengeance thou deserves!.
Page 302 - Fire the cursed forest, where these Roman wolves Haunt and infest their nobler neighbours round them ; Extirpate from the bosom of this land A false, perfidious people, who, beneath The mask of freedom, are a combination Against the liberty of human kind ; The genuine seed of outlaws and of robbers.

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