A Poem to the Memory of Sir Iſaac Newton. She looks, methinks, Of old Acasto's line; and to my mind Recalls that patron of my happy life, From whom my liberal fortune took its rise; Now to the dust gone down; his houses, lands, And once fair-spreading family, dissolved. Nor toil alone they scorn : Exahing love. Strait the sands, CommovM around, in gathering eddies play j 970 Nearer and nearer still they darkening come j Till, with the general all-involving storm Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise ; And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown, Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep, 975 Beneath descending hills, the caravan Is buried deep. Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom. Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream.
Or is this gloom too much? In them 'tis graceful to dissolve at woe; With every motion, every word, to wave Quick o'er the kindling cheek the ready blush; And from the smallest violence to shrink Unequal, then the loveliest in their fears; And by this silent adulation, soft, To their protection more engaging Man. Or wing, their range and pasture. Whitmill, Cannon-street Wetion, bookseller, Chercsey, Surry, 6 copies Wright, Ashleyacademy, Bed« ford Warner Wakeman, Upton Severn Thomas Whitchom, Woodford, Wilts Mrs. Shooting and hunting, their barbarity. As in the hollow breast of Appenine, Beneath the shelter of encircling hills, A myrtle rises, far from human eye, And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild; So flourish'd blooming, and unseen by all, The sweet Lavinia; till, at length, compell'd By strong Necessity's supreme command, With smiling patience in her looks, she went To glean Palemon's fields. Besides, the hard agglomerating salts, The spoil of ages, would impervious choke Their secret channels; or, by slow degrees, High as the hills protrude the swelling vales: Old Ocean too, suck'd through the porous globe, Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed, And brought Deucalion's watery times again. Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore E'er saw such sylvan scenes; such various art By genius fired, such ardent genius tamed By cool judicious art; that, in the strife, All beauteous Nature fears to be outdone.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days, And Libra weighs in equal scales the year; From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook Of parting Summer, a serener blue, With golden light enliven'd, wide invests The happy world. And now the mounting sun dispels the fog; The rigid hoar frost melts before his beam; And hung on every spray, on every blade Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. After a gentle dusky day, Moonlight. The flood disparts : behold! Mean while, the Leaves, That, late, the Forest clad with lively Green,Nipt by the drizzly Night, and Sallow-hu'd,Fall, wavering, thro' the Air; or shower amain,Urg'd by the Breeze, that sobs amid the Boughs. . Consideration of print, paratexts, pictures, price, and pocket diaries all make for the richest contextualisation yet of the production and consumption of James Thomson's poetic masterpiece from its first appearance to the early decades of the nineteenth century. Was known among those happy sons of Heaven ; 255 For reason and benevolence were law.
For this in Autumn search'd the blooming waste, Nor lost one sunny gleam? The gaiety of Spring, the splen- dour of Summer, the tranquillity of Autumn, and the horror of Winter, take in their turns possession of the mind. Then forming Fancy rouses to conceive,What never mingled with the Vulgar's Dream:Then wake the tender Pang, the pitying Tear, The Sigh for suffering Worth, the Wish prefer'dFor Humankind, the Joy to see them bless'd,And all the Social Off-spring of the Heart! Still unexerted, in th' unconscious breast. The stag too, singled from the herd, where long He ranged the branching monarch of the shades, Before the tempest drives. Recommended to all Gentlemen, but particularly to the Soldiery. Meanwhile the Moon Full-orb'd, and breaking through the scatter'd clouds, Shows her broad visage in the crimson'd east.
Strip from the branching Alps their piny load; The huge incumbrance of horrific woods From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretch'd Athwart the roving Tartar's sullen bounds; Give opening Hemus to my searching eye, And high Olympus pouring many a stream! The villain spider lives, cunning, and fiercej Mixture abhor'd! Above all, it was his recognition that nature could be the primary subject of poetry — relished for its symbolic value, but also for its own sake — which was his greatest legacy to the Romantics. Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such As never mingled with the vulgar dream, Crowd fast into the mind's creative eye. Set science, wifdom, glory, in his view. Her terrors vanished, and a softer train Of mixt emotions, hard to be described. Then too the pillar'd dome, magnific, heaved Its ample roof; and Luxury within Pour'd out her glittering stores: the canvass smooth, With glowing life protuberant, to the view Embodied rose; the statue seem'd to breathe, And soften into flesh; beneath the touch Of forming art, imagination-flush'd. Thence Nitre, Sulphur, and the fiery spume Of fat Bitumen, steaming on the day. Will send you bounding to your hills again.
With trembling hand he threw. Such, falling frequent through the chiller night, The fragrant stores, the wide projected heaps Of apples, which the lusty-handed Year, Innumerous, o'er the blushing orchard shakes. The bleating Kind Eye the bleak Heavens, and next, the glistening Earth, With Looks of dumb Despair; then sad, dispers'd, Dig, for the wither'd Herb, thro' Heaps of Snow. These first opening lines set the tone for the rest of the poem in which Thomson will praise and celebrate the many qualities of Solitude and the way in which it promotes mystery, internal analysis, and spiritual speculation. Thomson was known for his revolutionary way of creating a poem in which there is little to no plot, surprising avid poetry readers.
That he was st I'm a fan of nature poetry, and I get it Thomson wants to adapt the epic genre conventions and uses nature for this purpose. But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport Is hurried wild, let not such horrid joy E'er stain the bosom of the British Fair. Then Commerce brought into the public walk The busy merchant; the big warehouse built; Raised the strong crane; choked up the loaded street With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames, Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods! O'er all the soul his sacred influence breathes! At whose strong chest the deadly tyger hangs. When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days, And Libra weighs in equal scales the year ; From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook Of parting Summer, a serener blue, 26 With golden light enliven'd, wide invests The happy world. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Or if by blind ambition led astray, They must aspire; why should they sudden stop Among the broken mountain's rushy dells, And, ere they gain its highest peak, desert The attractive sand that charm'd their course so long? Then Thy sun 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. While, loose to festive joy, the country round Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, Shook to the wind their cares.
His satisfaction, in- deed, arises from those objects, of which it has been impossible for power, and malice to deprive him. The edition I read was in a beautiful binding and it used the 1746 edition of the text, the last one revised by the author before his death. He was the fourth of nine children of Thomas Thomson and Beatrix Thomson née Trotter. Glanc'd from his side, 710 The darted steel in idle shivers flies : He fearless walks the plain, or seeks the hills ; Where, as he crops his varied fare, the herds. With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine. Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves Of aspin tall. Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop, Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime.