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Paradise Lost - Continued.
Book vii. Line 30.
Still govern thou my song, Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
Book viii. Line 84. Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb.
Book viii. Line 282. And feel that I am happier than I know.
Book viü. Line 488. Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love.
Book viii. Line 502. Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, That would be wooed and not unsought be won.
Book viii. Line 548.
So well to know Her own,
that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best !
Book viii. Line 600.
Those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies, that daily flow From all her words and actions.
Book viii. Line 618. To who the angel, with a smile that glowed Celestial rosy red (love's proper hue).
Book ix. Line 26.
Book ix. Line 249. For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urges sweet return.
Book ix. Line 782. Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe, That all was lost.
Book ix. Line 1107.
Book x. Line 77.
Yet I shall temper so Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most Them fully satisfied, and thee appease.
Book xi. Line 485.
Moping melancholy, And moon-struck madness.
Book xi. Line 491. And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked.
Book xü. Line 646. The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.
Book iii. Line 56.
Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise.
Book iv. Line 240. Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
Book iv. Line 267. Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democraty, Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
Book iv. Line 330.
As children gathering pebbles on the shore.
Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to men.
Line 1350. He's gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words, by adding fuel to the flame?
Tame villatic fowl.
A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues, that syllable men's names On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.
Line 244. Can any
mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk.
I was all ear,
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,