John Milton Quotes
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It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.
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That space the Evil One abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remained Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge .
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Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.
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If by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries; But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth: Therefore to his great bidding I submit.
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Virtue, which breaks through opposition and all temptation can remove, most shines, and most is acceptable above.
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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Hence, loathèd Melancholy,Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born,In Stygian cave forlorn,'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy.
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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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This is servitude, To serve the unwise.
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While the cock with lively dinScatters the rear of darkness thin,And to the stack, or the barn door,Stoutly struts his dames before,Oft list'ning how the hounds and hornCheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn.
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The never-ending flight Of future days.
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Anger and just rebuke, and judgment given, That brought into this world a world of woe, Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery, Death's harbinger.
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For men to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?
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Now the bright morning-star, Day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
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Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
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Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
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But when Lust By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, But most by lewd and lavish arts of sin, Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose The divine property of her first being.
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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.
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What am I pondering, you ask? So help me God, immortality.
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Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd.
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A death-like sleep, A gentle wafting to immortal life.
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O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, dungeon or beggary, or decrepit age! Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct, and all her various objects of delight annulled, which might in part my grief have eased. Inferior to the vilest now become of man or worm; the vilest here excel me, they creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed to daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong, within doors, or without, still as a fool, in power of others, never in my own; scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.
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But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.