The Poetical Works of John Milton: With the Life of the Author, Том 2Fielding Lucas, Jun., and Joseph Cushing, 1813 - 565 страници |
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Страница 6
... , displaying All virtue , grace , and wisdom to achieve Things highest , greatest , multiplies my fear . Before him a great prophet , to proclaim 70 His coming , is sent harbinger , who all Invites 6 Book I. PARADISE REGAINED .
... , displaying All virtue , grace , and wisdom to achieve Things highest , greatest , multiplies my fear . Before him a great prophet , to proclaim 70 His coming , is sent harbinger , who all Invites 6 Book I. PARADISE REGAINED .
Страница 22
... grace and truth ; Now , now , for sure , deliverance is at hand , The kingdom sball to Israel be restor❜d : Thus we rejoic'd , but soon our joy is turn'd Into perplexity and new amaze : For whither is he gone , what accident 35 Hath ...
... grace and truth ; Now , now , for sure , deliverance is at hand , The kingdom sball to Israel be restor❜d : Thus we rejoic'd , but soon our joy is turn'd Into perplexity and new amaze : For whither is he gone , what accident 35 Hath ...
Страница 25
... grace , None are , thou think'st , but taken with such toys . Before the flood , thou with thy lusty crew , False titled sons of God , roaming the earth , Cast wanton eyes on the daughters of men , And coupled with them , and begot a ...
... grace , None are , thou think'st , but taken with such toys . Before the flood , thou with thy lusty crew , False titled sons of God , roaming the earth , Cast wanton eyes on the daughters of men , And coupled with them , and begot a ...
Страница 42
... grace , That who advance his glory , not their own , Them he himself to glory will advance . " So spake the Son of God ; and here again Satan had not to answer , but stood struck With guilt of his own sin ; for he himself , Insatiable ...
... grace , That who advance his glory , not their own , Them he himself to glory will advance . " So spake the Son of God ; and here again Satan had not to answer , but stood struck With guilt of his own sin ; for he himself , Insatiable ...
Страница 44
... grace : what worse ? For where no hope is left , is left no fear : If there be worse , the expectation more Of worse torments me than the feeling can . I would be at the worst : worst is my port , My harbour , and my ultimate repose ...
... grace : what worse ? For where no hope is left , is left no fear : If there be worse , the expectation more Of worse torments me than the feeling can . I would be at the worst : worst is my port , My harbour , and my ultimate repose ...
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Angels Arethuse arms aught behold bright call'd canst Chor Comus Dagon dark death deeds delight deliverance didst divine dost doth dread dwell earth Egypt enemies eyes fair fame father fear feast flow'r foes foul Gath giv'n glorious glory Gods grace hand hath head hear heard heart Heav'n heav'nly holy honour Israel Jehovah Jesus Judea king kingdom lady light Locrine Lord loud Lycidas Manoah morn mortal Muse Nazarite never night numbers Nymphs o'er once PARADISE REGAINED Parthian peace Philistines pow'r praise prophets PSALM quire reign reply'd river Jordan round Sams Samson Satan Saviour seek shades shalt shame shepherd sight sing Son of God song soon soul spake Spirit stood strength sung sweet Tempter thee thence thine things thou art thou hast thought throne thyself truth vex'd virgin virtue voice wilt winds wings wood
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Страница 199 - Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due: For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer: Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Страница 195 - And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Страница 75 - Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever held the gravest, moralest, and most profitable of all other poems: therefore said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity and fear, or terror, to purge the mind of those and suchlike passions, that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirred up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated.
Страница 217 - The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air ? He who of those delights can judge, and spare To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
Страница 192 - Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among I woo, to hear thy even-song; And missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green...
Страница 203 - Where the great Vision of the guarded Mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold; Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Страница 202 - The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. — But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Страница 184 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth, and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish...
Страница 191 - Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
Страница 202 - 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.