The Poetical Works of John MiltonE. Fleischer, 1834 - 392 pages |
From inside the book
Results 6-10 of 71
Page 22
... spake : 295 300 305 ' Thrones and Imperial Pow'rs , Offspring of Heaven , 310 Ethereal Virtues ; or these titles now Must we renounce , and , changing style , be call'd Princes of Hell ? for so the popular vote Inclines here to continue ...
... spake : 295 300 305 ' Thrones and Imperial Pow'rs , Offspring of Heaven , 310 Ethereal Virtues ; or these titles now Must we renounce , and , changing style , be call'd Princes of Hell ? for so the popular vote Inclines here to continue ...
Page 24
... spake : ' O Progeny of heav'n , empyreal Thrones , 430 With reason hath deep silence and demur Seiz'd us , though undismay'd . Long is the way And hard , that out of hell leads up to light ; Our prison strong ; this huge convex of fire ...
... spake : ' O Progeny of heav'n , empyreal Thrones , 430 With reason hath deep silence and demur Seiz'd us , though undismay'd . Long is the way And hard , that out of hell leads up to light ; Our prison strong ; this huge convex of fire ...
Page 29
... spake the grisly terror , and in shape , So speaking and so threat'ning , grew tenfold 705 More dreadful and deform . On th ' other side , Incens'd with indignation , Satan stood Unterrified , and like a comet burn'd , That fires the ...
... spake the grisly terror , and in shape , So speaking and so threat'ning , grew tenfold 705 More dreadful and deform . On th ' other side , Incens'd with indignation , Satan stood Unterrified , and like a comet burn'd , That fires the ...
Page 30
John Milton. She spake , and at her words the hellish pest Forbore ; then these to her Satan return'd : ' So strange thy outcry , and thy words so strange Thou interposest , that my sudden hand , Prevented , spares to tell thee yet by ...
John Milton. She spake , and at her words the hellish pest Forbore ; then these to her Satan return'd : ' So strange thy outcry , and thy words so strange Thou interposest , that my sudden hand , Prevented , spares to tell thee yet by ...
Page 37
... . Him God beholding from his prospect high , Wherein past , present , future , he beholds , Thus to his only Son foreseeing spake : 65 59 70 75 ' Only begotten Son , seest thou what rage Transports BOOK III . 37 PARADISE LOST .
... . Him God beholding from his prospect high , Wherein past , present , future , he beholds , Thus to his only Son foreseeing spake : 65 59 70 75 ' Only begotten Son , seest thou what rage Transports BOOK III . 37 PARADISE LOST .
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Adam angels appear'd arm'd arms aught beast behold Belial bliss bright call'd Cherub Cherubim Chor cloud Comus Dagon dark death deeds deep delight didst divine doth dread dwell earth Egypt eternal evil eyes fair faith fall'n Father fear flow'r fruit glory gods grace hand happy hast hath heard heart heav'n heav'nly hell highth hill honour Israel join'd King lest light live Lord Lycidas Manoah Messiah morn mortal night numina nymph o'er pain Paradise Parthian pass'd peace Philistines pleas'd pow'r praise quire rais'd reign replied return'd round sapience Satan seat seem'd serpent shade shalt sight Son of God song soon spake spirits stood strength sweet taste Thammuz thee thence thine things thither thou art thou hast thought throne thyself tree turn'd vex'd virtue voice wand'ring whence winds wings
Popular passages
Page 278 - That to the faithful herdman's art belongs ! What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; 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.
Page 6 - Fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast. The broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening, from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, 290 Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
Page 314 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask ? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In Liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which...
Page 278 - 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.
Page 280 - Haste thee Nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks...
Page 285 - And when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown that Sylvan loves...
Page 73 - Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Page 36 - Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song ; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit...
Page 62 - 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" mild; then silent night With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...
Page 281 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.