Date: 1745
"The Duties of his Day / Were all discharg'd, and gratefully enjoy'd / It's noblest Blessings; calm, as Evening Skies, / Was his pure Mind, and lighted up with Hopes / That open Heaven; when, for his last long Sleep / Timely prepar'd, a Lassitude of Life, / A pleasing Weariness of mortal Joy, / F...
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"But when the Practice comes; when our fond Passions, / Pleasure and Pride and Self-Indulgence throw / Their magic Dust around, the Prospect roughens: / Then dreadful Passes, craggy Mountains rise, / Cliffs to be scal'd, and Torrents to be stem'd."
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"Few get above this turbid Scene of Strife, / Few gain the Summit, breathe that purest Air, / That heavenly Ether, which untroubled sees / The Storm of Vice and Passion rage below."
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"My fluttering Soul was all on Wing to find Thee, / My Love! my Sigismunda!"
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"I bow, Lord Constable, beneath the Snow / Of many Years; yet in my Breast revives / A youthful Flame."
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"Distraction!--O my Soul!--Hold, Reason, hold / Thy giddy Seat--O this inhuman Outrage / Unhinges Thought!"
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"But hold, my Soul, / Thy steady Purpose--Tost by various Passions, / To this eternal Anchor keep--There is, / Can be, no Public without Private Virtue."
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"Tho' practis'd long in Courts, / I have not so far learn'd their subtle Trade, / To veer obedient with each Gust of Passion."
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"Oh! Words are weak, / To paint the Pangs, the Rage, the Indignation; / That whirl'd from Thought to Thought my Soul in Tempest, / Now on the Point to burst, and now by Shame / Repress'd."
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)
Date: 1745
"But This, my Friend, these stormy Gusts of Pride / Are foreign to my Love--Till Sigismunda / Be disabus'd, my Breast is Tumult all, / And can obey no settled Course of Reason. / I see Her still, I feel her powerful Image!"
preview | full record— Thomson, James (1700-1748)