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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.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
John Milton
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What wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian.
John Milton
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As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
John Milton
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Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy even-song.
John Milton
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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
John Milton
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And 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.
John Milton
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What is dark within me, illumine.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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For men to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?
John Milton
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It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.
John Milton
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Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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From haunted spring and daleEdged with poplar paleThe parting genius is with sighing sent.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
John Milton
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The never-ending flight Of future days.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
John Milton
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O execrable son! so to aspire Above his brethren, to himself assuming Authority usurped, from God not given. He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl, Dominion absolute; that right we hold By his donation; but man over men He made not lord; such title to himself Reserving, human left from human free.
John Milton
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Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal BenchOf British Themis, with no mean applausePronounced and in his volumes taught our Laws,Which others at their Bar so often wrench
John Milton
