Maxioms by James Thomson (1)
The glad circle round them yield their souls
To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.
The glad circle round them yield their souls
To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.
Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he read more
Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls up the tuneful nations.
Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.
Cruel as death, and hungry at the grave.
But through the heart
Should Jealousy its venom once diffuse,
'Tis then delightful misery no more,
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But through the heart
Should Jealousy its venom once diffuse,
'Tis then delightful misery no more,
But agony unmix'd, incessant gall,
Corroding every thought, and blasting all
Love's paradise.
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.
