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.)

但谁能画喜欢大自然吗?可以想象美国银行st 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.)