James Thomson (1)

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.

Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.

Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.

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.

He saw her charming, but he saw not half
The charms her downcast modesty conceal'd.

He saw her charming, but he saw not half
The charms her downcast modesty conceal'd.

For nothing human foreign was to him.

For nothing human foreign was to him.