The Poetical Works of John MiltonJ.M. Dent & Sons, 1925 - 554ÆäÀÌÁö |
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6 ÆäÀÌÁö
... Whence furnish such a vast expense of mind ? Just Heaven , thee like Tiresias to requite , Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight . Well might'st thou scorn thy readers to allure With tinkling rime , of thy own sense secure ; While the ...
... Whence furnish such a vast expense of mind ? Just Heaven , thee like Tiresias to requite , Rewards with prophecy thy loss of sight . Well might'st thou scorn thy readers to allure With tinkling rime , of thy own sense secure ; While the ...
11 ÆäÀÌÁö
... whence they fell ! There the companions of his fall , o'erwhelmed With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire , He soon discerns ; and , weltering by his side , One next himself in power , and next in crime , Long after known in ...
... whence they fell ! There the companions of his fall , o'erwhelmed With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire , He soon discerns ; and , weltering by his side , One next himself in power , and next in crime , Long after known in ...
34 ÆäÀÌÁö
... whence these raging fires Will slacken , if his breath stir not their flames . Our purer essence then will overcome Their noxious vapour ; or , inured , not feel ; Or , changed at length , and to the place conformed In temper and in ...
... whence these raging fires Will slacken , if his breath stir not their flames . Our purer essence then will overcome Their noxious vapour ; or , inured , not feel ; Or , changed at length , and to the place conformed In temper and in ...
35 ÆäÀÌÁö
... whence deep thunders roar , Mustering their rage , and Heaven resembles Hell ! As he our darkness , cannot we his light Imitate when we please ? This desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre , gems and gold ; Nor want we skill or art ...
... whence deep thunders roar , Mustering their rage , and Heaven resembles Hell ! As he our darkness , cannot we his light Imitate when we please ? This desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre , gems and gold ; Nor want we skill or art ...
38 ÆäÀÌÁö
... whence , But from the author of all ill , could spring So deep a malice , to confound the race Of mankind in one root , and Earth with Hell To mingle and involve , done all to spite The great Creator ? But their spite still serves His ...
... whence , But from the author of all ill , could spring So deep a malice , to confound the race Of mankind in one root , and Earth with Hell To mingle and involve , done all to spite The great Creator ? But their spite still serves His ...
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Adam Angels arms aught beast Beelzebub behold Belial bliss bright Cherub Cherubim Chor cloud Comus creatures Dagon dark death deeds deep delight didst divine dread dwell Earth eternal evil eyes fair faith Father fear fell fierce fire flame fruit glory gods grace hand happy hast hath heard heart Heaven heavenly Hell highth hill honour hope Israel King lest light live Lord Lord Brackley lost Messiah Moloch mortal night o'er once pain Paradise Paradise Lost peace Philistines praise reign round Sams Satan scape seat Serpent shade shalt sight Smectymnuus Son of God song soon spake Spirits stood strength sweet taste temper Thammuz thee thence thine things thither thou art thou hast thought throne thunder thyself tree virtue voice W. H. D. ROUSE whence winds wings wonder
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56 ÆäÀÌÁö - Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; But cloud instead and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and, for the book of knowledge fair, Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
444 ÆäÀÌÁö - Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more." Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams: return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks. Throw hither all your quaint...
404 ÆäÀÌÁö - Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing; And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure; But first and chiefest with thee bring, Him that yon...
443 ÆäÀÌÁö - He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain ? And questioned every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked promontory. They knew not of his story ; And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed : The air was calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters played.
390 ÆäÀÌÁö - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
445 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
444 ÆäÀÌÁö - Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest. Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least That to the faithful Herdman's art belongs!
443 ÆäÀÌÁö - Built in the eclipse, and rigged 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 inscribed with woe.
445 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
227 ÆäÀÌÁö - Rather than solid virtue : all but a rib Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister, from me drawn ; Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found. O ! why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men, as angels, without feminine ; Or find some other way to generate Mankind?