The Poetical Works of John MiltonH. Milford, Oxford University Press, 1900 - 554 pages |
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Page 4
... never was by mortall finger strook , Divinely - warbled voice Answering the stringed noise , As all their souls in blisfull rapture took : The Air such pleasure loth to lose , With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close . X ...
... never was by mortall finger strook , Divinely - warbled voice Answering the stringed noise , As all their souls in blisfull rapture took : The Air such pleasure loth to lose , With thousand echo's still prolongs each heav'nly close . X ...
Page 5
... never made , But when of old the sons of morning sung , While the Creator Great His constellations set , And the well - ballanc't world on hinges hung , And cast the dark foundations deep , And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel ...
... never made , But when of old the sons of morning sung , While the Creator Great His constellations set , And the well - ballanc't world on hinges hung , And cast the dark foundations deep , And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel ...
Page 19
... never die while he could move , So hung his destiny never to rot While he might still jogg on , and keep his trot , Made of sphear - metal , never to decay Untill his revolution was at stay . Time numbers motion , yet ( without a crime ...
... never die while he could move , So hung his destiny never to rot While he might still jogg on , and keep his trot , Made of sphear - metal , never to decay Untill his revolution was at stay . Time numbers motion , yet ( without a crime ...
Page 27
... never heard the Nymphs to daunt , Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt . There in close covert by som Brook , Where no profaner eye may look , Hide me from Day's garish eie , While the Bee with Honied thie , That at her flowry work ...
... never heard the Nymphs to daunt , Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt . There in close covert by som Brook , Where no profaner eye may look , Hide me from Day's garish eie , While the Bee with Honied thie , That at her flowry work ...
Page 28
... never fail , To walk the studious Cloysters pale , And love the high embowed Roof , With antick Pillars massy proof , And storied Windows richly dight , Casting a dimm religious light . There let the pealing Organ blow , To the full ...
... never fail , To walk the studious Cloysters pale , And love the high embowed Roof , With antick Pillars massy proof , And storied Windows richly dight , Casting a dimm religious light . There let the pealing Organ blow , To the full ...
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Common terms and phrases
Adam agni amorous Angels Arms Battel behold bliss brest bright call'd Chor Clouds Comus Dagon dark dayes Death deeds deep delight didst Divine doth dwell e're Earth Eternal evil eyes fair fantastick farr Father fear foul Fruit gastly giv'n glory Gods grace Hæc hand happie hast hath heard Heav'n heav'nly Hell highth Hill honour Israel JOHN MILTON King light live Lord Lycidas malè mihi Morn mortal night numina Nymphs o're Paradise PARADISE LOST Paradise Regain'd peace praise PSAL quæ rais'd repli'd round Samson Agonistes Satan seat seemd Serpent shades shalt shew sight Skie Son of God Song soon soul spake Spirit Starrs stood strength sweet taste thee thence thine things thir thou art thou hast thought Throne tibi Tree vertue wandring Warr winds wings World
Popular passages
Page 256 - When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening" mild; then silent night With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...
Page 40 - Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow, His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe. "Ah; Who hath reft" (quoth he) "my dearest pledge?
Page 177 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round, As one great furnace flam'd ; yet from those flames No light ; but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed...
Page 42 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Page 42 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Page 41 - Lycid lies. For so to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. Ay me ! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; Or whether thou to our moist vows denied, Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus...
Page 39 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days ; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life.
Page 182 - Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains in her spotty globe. His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand...
Page 270 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair: thyself how wondrous then, Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 61 - How charming is divine Philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.