The Works of James Thomson: With His Last Corrections, Additions and Improvements

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A. Millar, 1757

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Page 171 - That you had deign'd to tell me all you knew — And would you have me wait, with duteous...
Page 157 - I fear'd, she loves another ? Ha ! — yes — perhaps the king, the young count Tancred ! They were bred up together Surely that, That cannot be — Has he not given his hand, In the...
Page 201 - O sympathizing love of others' bliss, Where will you find another breast like his ? Such was the man — the poet well you know: Oft has he touch'd your hearts with tender woe : Oft, in this crowded house, with just applause, You heard him teach fair Virtue's purest laws ; For his chaste Muse...
Page 145 - Exert thy utmost force, nor languish thus . Beneath the vain extravagance of love. Let not thy father blush to hear it said, His daughter was so weak, e'er to admit A thought so void of reason...
Page 105 - The joy that waits this prince ; when all the powers,
Page 251 - Philosophy consists not In airy schemes, or idle speculations: The rule and conduct of all social life Is her great province. Not in lonely cells Obscure she lurks, but holds her heavenly light To senates and to kings to guide their councils, And teach them to reform and bless mankind.
Page 104 - Pines in a corner, and laments his fortune ; That in the narrower bounds of private life He must confine his aims, those swelling virtues Which from his noble father he inherits.
Page 195 - My care would only more inflame his rage. Behold the fatal work of my dark hand, That by rude force the passions would command, That ruthless sought to root them from the breast ; They may be rul'd, but will not be opprest.
Page 188 - I am the wife of an illuftrious lord Of your own princely blood ; and what I am, I will with proper dignity remain. Retire, my royal lord— There is no means To cure the wounds this fatal day has given. We meet no more !
Page 97 - ... Tis true. But at his years Death gives, short notice — Drooping nature then, Without a gust of pain to shake it, falls. His death, my daughter, was that happy period Which few attain. The duties of his day Were all discharg'd, " and gratefully enjoy'd

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