The Works of Mr. James Thomson: With His Last Corrections and Improvements ... To which is Prefixed, the Life of the Author, Volume 3

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Page 130 - 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 130 - Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Serves but to root thy native oak.
Page 44 - Cast on the wildest of the Cyclad's isles, Where never human foot had marked 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 139 - The death of those distinguish'd by their station, " But by their virtue more, awakes the mind " To solemn dread, and strikes a saddening awe: " Not that we grieve for them, but for ourselves, " Left to the toil of life And yet the best " Are, by the playful children of this world, " At once forgot, as they had never been.
Page 217 - My holy scalp," turn whining monk myself, And pray incessant for the tyrant's safety. What ! How ! because an insolent invader, A sacrilegious tyrant, " in contempt " Of all those noblest rights, \vhich to maintain
Page 239 - He loved his friends with such a warmth of heart, So clear of interest, so devoid of art, Such generous friendship, such unshaken zeal ; No words can speak it, but our tears may tell. O candid truth, O faith without a stain, O manners gently firm and nobly plain, O sympathising love of others' bliss ! Where will you find another breast like his ? Such was the Man.
Page 304 - 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 210 - Ha! arrogant pretensions ! Heaven and earth! What ! arrogant pretensions to my wife ? My wedded wife! Where are we? in a land Of civil rule, of liberty, and laws ? Not, on my life, pursue them ! Giddy prince ! My life disdains thy nod.
Page 239 - Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line which, dying, he could wish to blot.
Page 137 - Description dreams nay, similes are gone. What shall we then ? to please you how devise, Whose judgment sits not in your ears and eyes ? Thrice happy could we catch great Shakespeare's art, To trace the deep recesses of the heart...

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