THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN MILTON

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Page 14 - 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 113 - O thou, that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god Of this new world ; at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads ; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 0 sun ! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere...
Page 139 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, 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
Page cxxxviii - THE measure is English heroic verse without rime, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin — rime being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame metre...
Page 49 - A pillar of state ; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat, and public care ; And princely counsel in his face yet shone Majestic, though in ruin : sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look Drew audience and attention still as night, Or summer's noontide air...
Page 64 - For each seem'd either: black it stood as night, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as Hell, And shook a dreadful dart ; what seem'd his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Page 126 - So hand in hand they pass'd, the loveliest pair, That ever since in love's embraces met; Adam the goodliest man of men since born His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve.
Page 115 - Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell ; myself am Hell ; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.
Page 32 - As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes. Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet...
Page 124 - Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honour clad In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all ; And worthy seem'd : for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom...

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