James Thomson (1)

Base envy withers at another's joy,
And hates that excellence it cannot reach.

Base envy withers at another's joy,
And hates that excellence it cannot reach.

At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of Heaven,
The Tempest growls; but as it nearer comes,
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At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of Heaven,
The Tempest growls; but as it nearer comes,
And rolls its awful burden on the wind,
The Lightnings flash a larger curve, and more
The Noise astounds; till overhead a sheet
Of livid flame discloses wide, then shuts,
And opens wider; shuts and opens still
Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze.
Follows the loosen'd aggravated Roar,
Enlarging, deepening, mingling, peal on peal,
Crush'd, horrible, convulsing Heaven and Earth.

Think, oh, grateful think!
How good the God of Harvest is to you;
Who pours abundance o'er read more

Think, oh, grateful think!
How good the God of Harvest is to you;
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields,
While those unhappy partners of you kind
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven,
And ask their humble dole.

He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.

He ceased; but still their trembling ears retained
The deep vibrations of his witching song.

The swallow sweeps
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house.

The swallow sweeps
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house.