Finally, in “The Seasons” there are to be found many examples of the type of compound epithet, already referred to, modelled on the form of a past-participle; here Thomson has achieved some of his happiest expressions, charged with real suggestive power.[173] Among his instances are such little “word-pictures” as “_rocky-channelled_ maze” (“Spring,” 401), “the _light-footed_ dews” (“Summer,” 123); “the _keen-aired_ mountain” (“Autumn,” 434) “the _dusky-mantled_ lawn” (_ibid._, 1088), “the _dewy-skirted_ clouds” (_ibid._, 961) Even when he borrows a felicitous epithet he is able to apply it without loss of power, as when he gives a new setting to Milton’s “meek-eyed” applied to “Peace” as an epithet for the quiet in-coming of the dawn; the “_meek-eyed_ Morn” (“Summer,” 47). Thomson makes good and abundant use of compound epithets, and in this respect, as in others he was undoubtedly a bold pioneer. His language itself, from our present point of view, apart from the thought and outlook on external nature it reflects, entitles him to that honourable position as a forerunner in the Romantic reaction with which he is usually credited. He was not content to accept the stereotyped diction of his day, and asserted the right of the poet to make a vocabulary for himself. There is thus justice in the plea that it is Thomson, rather than Gray, whom Wordsworth should have marked down for widening the breach between the language of poetry and that of prose. No doubt the prevalence of the compound epithets in “The Seasons” is due, to some extent at least, to the requirement of his blank verse line; they helped him, so to speak, to secure the maximum of effect with the minimum of word-power; and at times we can almost see him trying to give to his unrhymed decasyllabics something of the conciseness and polish to which Pope’s couplet had accustomed his generation. But they owe their appearance, of course, to other causes than the mere mechanism of verse. Thompson’s fondness for “swelling sound and phrase” has often been touched upon, and this predilection finds full scope in the compound epithets; they play their part in giving colour and atmosphere to “The Seasons,” and they announce unmistakably that the old dead, descriptive diction is doomed. Of the blank verse poems of the period only “The Seasons” has any real claim to be regarded as announcing the Romantic revolt that was soon to declare itself unmistakably. But three years after the appearance of Thomson’s final revision of his poem the first odes of William Collins were published, at the same time as those of Joseph Warton, whilst the work of Thomas Gray had already begun.