"Idlesse in her dreaming mood." And in such pictures the Poet rejoiced. But with this drowsy enchantment he mingled all the freshness of that age which, from its far distance in the past, takes upon itself the hue of far clouds--becoming in the eyes of men an age of gold. The freshness of which I speak is of the patriarchal age-- "What time Dan Abraham left the Chaldee land, And pastured on from verdant stage to stage, Where fields and fountains fresh could best engage." And this freshness retrieves the swooning and too sickly tone of a poem, all in all, inimitable. If, reader, you wish an hour of forgetfulness, go to some quiet hollow, in the pleasant summer time, and after working thought and heart into the mood which can "Pour all the Arabian heaven upon our nights," hum such sleep-begetting verses as these: "Joined to the prattle of the purling rills Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks were bleating from the distant hills, _And vacant shepherds piping in the dale_: And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale; And _still a coil the grasshopper did keep_: Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep. * * * * * And up the hills, on either side, a wood Of blackening pines aye waving to and fro, Sent forth _a sleepy horror thro' the blood_; And where this valley winded out below, _The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow_. A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of _dreams that wave before the half-shut eye_; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, Forever flushing round a summer sky: There, eke _the soft delights that witchingly Instill a wanton sweetness through the breast_, And the calm pleasures always hovered nigh." Such soporific verses are of more worth than all the narcotics ever squeezed from the pores of the poppy. They sound like the trickle of rain from the eaves, or like the hum of bees about a tulip-tree in early summer. Thomson died in August 1748, and was buried in the church of Richmond. He is said to have been above the middle stature; somewhat corpulent; of a stupid look and repulsive appearance; taciturn in strange company, but sociable among his intimate friends; fixed in his attachments, and fervid in his benevolence. But he was too fat to be active; and often failed to bestow as well as obtain a favor through mere indolence. We have already seen that he wrote one poem on this vice; and reflecting upon its effects in his own affairs, he is said to have designed an eastern tale 'of the man who loved to be in distress.' He has a cenotaph in Westminster Abbey.