James Thomson (1)

Their only labour was to kill the time;
And labour dire it is, and weary woe,
They read more

Their only labour was to kill the time;
And labour dire it is, and weary woe,
They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme,
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,
Or saunter forth, with tottering steps and slow.

Island of bliss! amid the subject Seas,
That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up,
At once read more

Island of bliss! amid the subject Seas,
That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up,
At once the wonder, terror, and delight
Of distant nations; whose remotest shore
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm;
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults
Baffling, like thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave.

Even from the body's purity, the mind
Receives a secret sympathetic aid.

Even from the body's purity, the mind
Receives a secret sympathetic aid.

Of evening tinct,
The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine.

Of evening tinct,
The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine.

Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames;
Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
read more

Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames;
Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.