See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen, and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These, that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms!
Congenial horrors, hail!

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Winter (l. 71-75). . . Treasury of English Poetry, The. Mark Caldwell and Walter Kendrick, eds. (1984) Doubleday & Company.)

For life is but a dream whose shapes return,
Some frequently, some seldom, some by night
And some by day,

(James Thomson (1834-1882), Irish poet ("B.V."; "Bysshe Vanolis"). The City of Dreadful Night (l. 1-6). . . Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.)

They have much wisdom yet they are not wise,
They have much goodness yet they do not well,
(The fools we know have their own Paradise,
The wicked also have their proper Hell);

(James Thomson (1834-1882), Irish poet ("B.V."; "Bysshe Vanolis"). The City of Dreadful Night (l. 1-6). . . Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.)

But chief to heedless flies the window proves
A constant death; where gloomily retired,
The villain spider lives, cunning and fierce,
Mixture abhorred! Amid a mangled heap
Of carcases in eager watch he sits,
O'erlooking all his waving snares around.

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Summer (l. 71-75). . . Fellow Mortals; an Anthology of Animal Verse. Roy Fuller, comp. (1981) MacDonald and Evans Ltd.)

he dreadful darts
With rapid glide along the leaning line;
And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Summer (l. 71-75). . . Fellow Mortals; an Anthology of Animal Verse. Roy Fuller, comp. (1981) MacDonald and Evans Ltd.)

To sunny waters some
By fatal instinct fly; where on the pool
They sportive wheel, or, sailing down the stream,
Are snatched immediate by the quick-eyed trout
Or darting salmon.

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Summer (l. 71-75). . . Fellow Mortals; an Anthology of Animal Verse. Roy Fuller, comp. (1981) MacDonald and Evans Ltd.)

Now 'tis nought
But restless hurry through the busy air,
Beat by unnumbered wings.

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Spring (l. 71-75). . . Poetry in English; an Anthology. M. L. Rosenthal, general ed. (1987) Oxford University Press.)

But who can paint
Like Nature? Can imagination boast
Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Spring (l. 71-75). . . Poetry in English; an Anthology. M. L. Rosenthal, general ed. (1987) Oxford University Press.)

If fancy then
Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task,
Ah, what shall language do?

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Spring (l. 71-75). . . Poetry in English; an Anthology. M. L. Rosenthal, general ed. (1987) Oxford University Press.)

High from the summit of a craggy cliff,
Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns
On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race
Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds,
The royal eagle draws his vigorous young

(James Thomson (1700-1748), Scottish poet. Spring (l. 71-75). . . Poetry in English; an Anthology. M. L. Rosenthal, general ed. (1987) Oxford University Press.)