The Seasons

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A.S. Barnes, 1856 - Počet stran: 335
 

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Strana 277 - 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...
Strana 108 - 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.
Strana 326 - 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 unconfined, 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, Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing, Riding sublime, Thou bidst the world adore, And humblest Nature with thy northern blast.
Strana 328 - For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, Or Winter rises in the blackening east, Be my tongue mute, my Fancy * paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat...
Strana 281 - Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend, Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes, Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain : Nor finds the river, nor the forest, hid Beneath the formless wild; but wanders on From hill to dale, still more and more astray : Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps, Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home Rush on his nerves> and call their vigour forth In many a vain attempt.
Strana 16 - IN yonder grave a Druid lies, Where slowly winds the stealing wave ! The year's best sweets shall duteous rise, To deck its poet's sylvan grave ! In yon deep bed of whispering reeds His airy harp ' shall now be laid ; That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds May love through life the soothing shade. Then maids and youths shall linger here ; And, while its sounds at distance swell, Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.
Strana 328 - 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.
Strana 327 - 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. 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.
Strana 327 - 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.
Strana 327 - Ye woodlands all , awake : a boundless song Burst from the groves! and when the restless day, Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, Sweetest of birds ! sweet Philomela , charm The listening shades, and teach the night his praise.

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