The works of mr. James Thomson, to which is prefixed the life of the author by P. Murdoch, Volume 3

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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 254 - 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 300 - 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 234 - Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, One line which, dying, he could wish to blot.
Page 291 - 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 300 - 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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