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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