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.

In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with read more

In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with whom compared your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the Scale of Empire, ruled the Storm
Of mighty War; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seized
The Plough, and, greatly independent, scorned
All the vile stores corruption can bestow.

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And read more

O fair undress, best dress! it checks no vein,
But every flowing limb in pleasure drowns,
And heightens ease with grace.

Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.

Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.

The Clouds consign their treasures to the fields;
And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool
Prelusive drops, read more

The Clouds consign their treasures to the fields;
And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool
Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow
In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world.