Date: 1745

Chiefly one Charm / He in his graceful Character observes: / That tho' his Passions burn with high Impatience, / And sometimes, from a noble Heat of Nature, / Are ready to fly off, yet the least Check / Of ruling Reason brings them back to Temper, / And gentle Softness."

— Thomson, James (1700-1748)

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...

— 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."

— 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."

— Thomson, James (1700-1748)

Date: 1745

"My fluttering Soul was all on Wing to find Thee, / My Love! my Sigismunda!"

— Thomson, James (1700-1748)

Date: 1745

"I bow, Lord Constable, beneath the Snow / Of many Years; yet in my Breast revives / A youthful Flame."

— Thomson, James (1700-1748)

Date: 1745

"Distraction!--O my Soul!--Hold, Reason, hold / Thy giddy Seat--O this inhuman Outrage / Unhinges Thought!"

— 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."

— 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."

— 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."

— Thomson, James (1700-1748)