Maxioms by James Thomson (1)
Falsely luxurious, will not man awake?
Falsely luxurious, will not man awake?
Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.
Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.
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.
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.
Amid the roses, fierce Repentance rears
Her snaky crest; a quick-returning pang
Shoots through the conscious heart.
Amid the roses, fierce Repentance rears
Her snaky crest; a quick-returning pang
Shoots through the conscious heart.
