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" There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll. For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the blossom blows, the... "
A Memoir of the Reverend Alexander Waugh: With Selections from His ... - Page 487
by James Hay, Henry Belfrage - 1831 - 620 pages
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The Works of James Thomson: With His Last Corrections, Additions ..., Volume 1

James Thomson - 1757 - 244 pages
...the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams ; Or Winter rifes in the blackening eaft ; Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! SHOULD SHOULD fate command me to the fartheft verge Of the green earth, to diftant barbarous climes,...
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The Works of James Thomson: With His Last Corrections and Improvements. ...

James Thomson - 1766 - 266 pages
...the fummer-ray 95 Ruflets the plain, infpirmg Autumn gleams ; Or Winter rifes in the blackening eaft; Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat! • SHOULD fate command me to the fartheft verge i oo Of the green earth, to diftant barbarous climes,...
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The Lady's Magazine: Or Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex ..., Volume 38

John Huddlestone Wynne - Advice columns - 1807 - 744 pages
...Russet the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams, Or winter rises in the black'ningEast, Be my tongue mute, may Fancy paint no more, And dead to joy forget my heart to beat.' The morn was very clear and fine; and ere I had rambled far entered a little coppice, and taking wy...
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The Works of James Thomson: With His Last Corrections and ..., Volume 1

James Thomson - 1774 - 272 pages
...fummer-ray 95 RufTets the plain, infpiring Autumn gleams; Or Winter rifes_ in the black'ning eaft ; Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat! Gilds Indian mountains, or Ms fetting beam Flames on th' Atlantic ifles ; 'tis nought to me : Since...
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The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces ..., Volume 48, Page 1

Samuel Johnson - English poetry - 1779 - 280 pages
...fumvner-ray 95 Rufiets the plain, infyiring Autumn gleams ; Or Winter rifes in the blackening eaft ; Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat. Should fate command me to the fartl:eft verge 100 Of the green earth, to diflant ba:barous climes,...
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The Works of the English Poets: Thomson

Samuel Johnson - English poetry - 1779 - 274 pages
...lummer-ray 95 Ruflets the plain, infririxg Autumn gleams ; Or Winter rifes in,the blackening eaft; Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to biat. Should fate command me to the fartbeft verge ice Of the green earth, to eliftant baibarous climes,...
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Poems on Various Subjects; Selected to Enforce the Practice of Virtue: And ...

Children's poetry, English - 1780 - 226 pages
...the fummer rny Ruffets the plain, infpiring Autumn gleams, Or Winter rifes in the blackening Eaft, Be my tongue mute, my Fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to heat! Should Fate command me to the farthcft verge Of the green earth, to diftant barbarous climes,...
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Select lessons in prose and verse, from various authors, to which are added ...

Select lessons - 1785 - 156 pages
...the Plain, infpiring Autumn gleams ; Or Winter rifes in the blackening Eaft; Be my Tongue mute, may Fancy paint no more, And, dead to Joy, forget my Heart to beat ! Should Fate command me to the fartheft Verge Of the green Earth, to diftant barbarous Climes, Rivers...
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Bell's Edition, Volumes 91-92

John Bell - English poetry - 1787 - 510 pages
...the plain, infpiring Autumn gleams, Or Winter rifes in the blackening Eaft, Be my tongue mute, may Fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! Should Fate command me to the fartheft verge toa Of the green earth, to diftant barbarous climes,...
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The Works of James Thomson: With His Last Corrections and ..., Volume 1

James Thomson, Patrick Murdoch - 1788 - 326 pages
...the fummer-ray Ruflets the plain, in/firing Autumn gleams ; Or Winter rifes in the blackening eaft; Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat! Should fate command me to the fartheft verge Of the green earth, to diftant barbarous climes, Rivers...
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