Poems

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J. Johnson, 1792 - 266 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 63 - Was it in order to raise a fortune that you consumed the sprightly hours of youth in study and retirement? Was it to be rich that you grew pale over the midnight lamp, and distilled the sweetness from the Greek and Roman spring?
Pàgina 143 - Invoke thy dread perfection? Have the broad eye-lids of the morn beheld thee? Or does the beamy shoulder of Orion Support thy throne?
Pàgina 131 - GOD of my life, and author of my days ! Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise, And, trembling, take upon a mortal tongue That hallowed name to harps of seraphs sung. Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more Than veil their faces, tremble, and adore. Worms, angels, men, in every different sphere, Are equal all ; for all are nothing here.
Pàgina 126 - COME ! said Jesus' sacred voice, Come, and make my paths your choice ; I will guide you to your home ; Weary pilgrim, hither come ! 2 Thou, who houseless, sole, forlorn, Long hast borne the proud world's scorn, Long hast roamed the barren waste, Weary pilgrim, hither haste...
Pàgina 100 - Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn, And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale : And watch with patient eye Thy fair unfolding charms.
Pàgina 66 - And why can you not ? What hinders you from discarding this troublesome scrupulosity of yours which stands so grievously in your way? If it be a small thing to enjoy a healthful mind, sound at the very core, that does not shrink from the keenest inspection; inward freedom from remorse and...
Pàgina 27 - I sat me down on the fragment of a rock overgrown with moss, where the rustling of the falling leaves, the dashing of waters, and the hum of the distant city, soothed my mind into the most perfect tranquillity ; and sleep insensibly stole upon...
Pàgina 116 - So the pure limpid stream, when foul with stains Of rushing torrents and descending rains. Works itself clear, and as it runs, refines; Till, by degrees, the floating mirror shines, Reflects each flower that on the border grows. And a new heaven in Its fair bosom shows.
Pàgina 33 - ... fiery and irregular in all his motions. His name was Genius. He darted like an eagle up the mountain, and left his companions gazing after him with envy and admiration : but his progress was unequal, and interrupted by a thousand caprices. When Pleasure warbled in the valley, he mingled in her train.
Pàgina 38 - I am found, said she, in the vale, and I illuminate the mountain : I cheer the cottager at his toil, and inspire the sage at his meditation. I mingle in the crowd of cities, and bless the hermit in his cell. I have a temple in every heart that owns my influence ; and to him that wishes for me I am already present. Science may raise...

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