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Untwisting all the chains that tieThe hidden soul of harmony.
John Milton -
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil days, On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues.
John Milton
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And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild, And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out.
John Milton -
Darkness now rose, as daylight sunk, and brought in low'ring Night her shadowy offspring.
John Milton -
Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, sober steadfast, and demure, all in a robe of darkest grain, flowing with majestic train.
John Milton -
Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn! Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate!
John Milton -
For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
John Milton -
So on this windy sea of land, the Fiend Walked up and down alone bent on his prey.
John Milton
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I sat me down to watch upon a bank With ivy canopied and interwove With flaunting honeysuckle.
John Milton -
Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.
John Milton -
He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.
John Milton -
By night the Glass Of Galileo ... observes Imagin'd Land and Regions in the Moon.
John Milton -
Extol not riches then, the toil of fools, The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare, more apt To slacken virtue, and abate her edge, Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.
John Milton -
Hide me from day's garish eye,While the bee with honied thigh,That at her flowery work doth sing,And the waters murmuringWith such consort as they keep,Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
John Milton
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And that must end us, that must be our cure: To be no more. Sad cure! For who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish, rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night Devoid of sense and motion?
John Milton -
Death is the golden key that opens the palace of eternity.
John Milton -
The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove.
John Milton -
On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
John Milton -
Imparadis'd in one another's arms.
John Milton -
Then lies him down the lubber fiend,And stretched out all the chimney's length,Basks at the fire his hairy strength.
John Milton
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
John Milton -
Consider first, that great or bright infers not excellence.
John Milton -
From that high mount of God whence light and shade Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed To grateful twilight.
John Milton -
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.
John Milton