Nothing Formed In Vain
Let no presuming impious railer tax Creative wisdom, as if aught was
In vain, or not for admirable ends.
Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce His works unwise, of which the smallest
Excceeds the narrow vision of her mind?
As if, upon a full-proportion'd dome,
On swelling columns heav'd, the pride of art!
A critic-fly, whose feeble ray scarce
An inch around, with blind presumption bold,
Should dare to tax the structure of the whole.
And lives the man, whose universal
Has swept at once th' unbounded scheme of things;
Mark'd their dependence so, and firm accord,
As with unfalt'ring accent to conclude,
That this availeth nought?
Has any
The mighty chain of beings, less'ning
From infinite perfection, to the
Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss!
From which astonish'd thought, recoiling, turns?
Till then alone let zealous praise ascend,
And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power,
Whose wisdom shines as lovely in our minds,
As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun.
James Thomson
Other author posts
Reflections Suggested By Winter
'Tis done dread winter spreads its latest glooms, And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year How dead the vegetable kingdom lies
To Amanda - Come Dear Amanda Quit The Town
Come, dear Amanda, quit the town, And to the rural hamlets fly; Behold the wintry storms are gone;
To Amanda
Unless with my Amanda bless'd, In vain I twine the woodbine bower; Unless to deck her sweeter breast, In vain I rear the breathing flower
The Four Seasons Summer
From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed, Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes, In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth: He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
