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Witness This New-made World, Another Heav'n From Heaven Gate Not Farr, Founded In View On The Clear Hyaline, The Glassie Sea; Of Amplitude Almost Immense, With Starr's Numerous, And Every Starr Perhaps A World Of Destined Habitation.

-John Milton

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Witness This New-made World,

John Milton

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Witness This New-made World, Another Heav'n From Heaven Gate Not Farr, Founded In View On The Clear Hyaline, The Glassie Sea; Of Amplitude Almost Immense, With Starr's Numerous, And Every Starr Perhaps A World Of Destined Habitation.

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His Spear, To Equal Which The Tallest Pine Hewn On Norwegian Hills To Be The Mast Of Some Great Ammiral Were But A Wand, He Walk'd With To Support Uneasy Steps Over The Burning Marle.

But Who Is This, What Thing Of Sea Or Land,- Female Of Sex It Seems,- That So Bedeck'd, Ornate, And Gay, Comes This Way Sailing Like A Stately Ship Of Tarsus, Bound For Th' Isles Of Javan Or Gadire, With All Her Bravery On, And Tackle Trim, Sails Fill'd, And Streamers Waving, Courted By All The Winds That Hold Them Play, An Amber Scent Of Odorous Perfume Her Harbinger?

Come To The Sunset Tree! The Day Is Past And Gone; The Woodman's Axe Lies Free, And The Reaper's Work Is Done.

Where All Life Dies Death Lives.

Gratitude Bestows Reverence.....changing Forever How We Experience Life And The World.

Hear All Ye Angels, Progeny Of Light, Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers.

No Man Who Knows Aught, Can Be So Stupid To Deny That All Men Naturally Were Born Free.

Thick As Autumnal Leaves That Strow The Brooks In Vallombrosa, Where Th' Etrurian Shades High Over-arch'd Imbower.

And Oft, Though Wisdom Wake, Suspicion Sleeps At Wisdom's Gate, And To Simplicity Resigns Her Charge, While Goodness Thinks No Ill Where No Ill Seems.

I Was All Ear, And Took In Strains That Might Create A Soul Under The Ribs Of Death.

And Feel By Turns The Bitter Change Of Fierce Extremes, Extremes By Change More Fierce.

Our Country Is Where Ever We Are Well Off.

On A Sudden Open Fly With Impetuous Recoil And Jarring Sound Th' Infernal Doors, And On Their Hinges Grate Harsh Thunder.

Nor From Hell One Step No More Than From Himself Can Fly By Change Of Place.

Dark With Excessive Bright.

Books Are Not Absolutely Dead Things, But Do Contain A Potency Of Life In Them....i Know They Are As Lively And As Vigorously Productive As Those Fabulous Dragon's Teeth And Being Sown Up And Down, May Chance To Spring Up Armed Men.

Back To Thy Punishment, False Fugitive, And To Thy Speed Add Wings.

Cedar, And Pine, And Fir, And Branching Palm, A Sylvan Scene, And As The Ranks Ascend Shade Above Shade, A Woody Theatre Of Stateliest View.

Let Us Seek Death, Or He Not Found, Supply With Our Own Hands His Office On Ourselves; Why Stand We Longer Shivering Under Fears, That Show No End But Death, And Have The Power, Of Many Ways To Die The Shortest Choosing, Destruction With Destruction To Destroy.

The Virtuous Mind That Ever Walks Attended By A Strong Siding Champion, Conscience.

Into This Wild Abyss, The Womb Of Nature And Perhaps Her Grave.

What Is Dark Within Me, Illumine.

The Hungry Sheep Look Up, And Are Not Fed.

Bacchus, That First From Out The Purple Grape Crush'd The Sweet Poison Of Misused Wine.

Th' Ethereal Mould Incapable Of Stain Would Soon Expel Her Mischief, And Purge Off The Baser Fire, Victorious. Thus Repuls'd, Our Final Hope Is Flat Despair.

I Hate When Vice Can Bolt Her Arguments, And Virtue Has No Tongue To Check Her Pride.

Should God Create Another Eve, And I Another Rib Afford, Yet Loss Of Thee Would Never From My Heart; No No, I Feel The Link Of Nature Draw Me: Flesh Of Flesh, Bone Of My Bone Thou Art, And From Thy State Mine Never Shall Be Parted, Bliss Or Woe.

Heav'nly Love Shall Outdoo Hellish Hate

It Is For Homely Features To Keep Home,- They Had Their Name Thence; Coarse Complexions And Cheeks Of Sorry Grain Will Serve To Ply The Sampler And To Tease The Huswife's Wool. What Need A Vermeil-tinctur'd Lip For That, Love-darting Eyes, Or Tresses Like The Morn?

These Are Thy Glorious Works, Parent Of Good!

Yet I Shall Temper So Justice With Mercy, As May Illustrate Most Them Fully Satisfy'd, And Thee Appease.

And Fast By, Hanging In A Golden Chain, This Pendent World, In Bigness As A Star Of Smallest Magnitude, Close By The Moon.

His Words, Like So Many Nimble And Airy Servitors, Trip About Him At Command. Ibid.

Heaven Is As The Book Of God Before Thee Set, Wherein To Read His Wondrous Works.

O Visions Ill Foreseen! Better Had I Liv'd Ignorant Of Future, So Had Borne My Part Of Evil Only.

Each Tree Laden With Fairest Fruit, That Hung To Th' Eye Tempting, Stirr'd In Me Sudden Appetite To Pluck And Eat.

Beauty Stands In The Admiration Only Of Weak Minds Led Captive.

Day And Night, Seed-time And Harvest, Heat And Hoary Frost Shall Hold Their Course, Till Fire Purge All Things New.

Above The Smoke And Stir Of This Dim Spot Which Men Call Earth.

Thy Liquid Notes That Close The Eye Of Day.

United Thoughts And Counsels, Equal Hope And Hazard In The Glorious Enterprise.

Death Is The Golden Key That Opens The Palace Of Eternity.

Eternity Of Life

Though We Take From A Covetous Man All His Treasure, He Has Yet One Jewel Left; You Cannot Bereave Him Of His Covetousness.

Tears Such As Angels Weep.

Such As The Meeting Soul May Pierce, In Notes With Many A Winding Bout Of Linked Sweetness Long Drawn Out.

See Golden Days, Fruitful Of Golden Deeds, With Joy And Love Triumphing.

So Hand In Hand They Passed, 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.

Pandemonium, The High Capital Of Satan And His Peers.

The Power Of Kings And Magistrates Is Nothing Else, But What Is Only Derivative, Transferrd And Committed To Them In Trust From The People, To The Common Good Of Them All, In Whom The Power Yet Remaines Fundamentally, And Cannot Be Takn From Them, Without A Violation Of Thir Natural Birthright.

My Heart Contains Of Good, Wise, Just, The Perfect Shape.

This Having Learnt, Thou Hast Attained The Sum Of Wisdom; Hope No Higher, Though All The Stars Thou Knew'st By Name, And All Th'ethereal Powers, All Secrets Of The Deep, All Nature's Works, Or Works Of God In Heav'n, Air, Earth, Or Sea, And All The Riches Of This World Enjoy'dst, And All The Rule, One Empire; Onlyadd Deeds To Thy Knowledge Answerable, Add Faith, Add Virtue, Patience, Temperance, Add Love, By Name To Come Called Charity, The Soul Of All The Rest: Then Wilt Thou Not Be Loath To Leave This Paradise, But Shalt Possess A Paradise Within Thee, Happier Far.

Now Morn, Her Rosy Steps In Th' Eastern Clime Advancing, Sow'd The Earth With Orient Pearl, When Adam Wak'd, So Custom'd; For His Sleep Was Aery Light, From Pure Digestion Bred.

To Overcome In Battle, And Subdue Nations, And Bring Home Spoils With Infinite Man-slaughter, Shall Be Held The Highest Pitch Of Human Glory.

They Are The Troublers, They Are The Dividers Of Unity, Who Neglect And Don't Permit Others To Unite Those Dissevered Pieces Which Are Yet Wanting To The Body Of Truth.

Danger Will Wink On Opportunity.

He Who Tempts, Though In Vain, At Last Asperses The Tempted With Dishonor Foul, Supposed Not Incorruptible Of Faith, Not Proof Against Temptation.

For Stories Teach Us, That Liberty Sought Out Of Season, In A Corrupt And Degenerate Age, Brought Rome Itself To A Farther Slavery: For Liberty Hath A Sharp And Double Edge, Fit Only To Be Handled By Just And Virtuous Men; To Bad And Dissolute, It Becomes A Mischief Unwieldy In Their Own Hands: Neither Is It Completely Given, But By Them Who Have The Happy Skill To Know What Is Grievance And Unjust To A People, And How To Remove It Wisely; What Good Laws Are Wanting, And How To Frame Them Substantially, That Good Men May Enjoy The Freedom Which They Merit, And The Bad The Curb Which They Need.

Confusion Heard His Voice, And Wild Uproar Stood Ruled, Stood Vast Infinitude Confined; Till At His Second Bidding Darkness Fled, Light Shone, And Order From Disorder Sprung.

Virtue That Wavers Is Not Virtue, But Vice Revolted From Itself, And After A While Returning. The Actions Of Just And Pious Men Do Not Darken In Their Middle Course.

Hate Is Of All Things The Mightiest Divider, Nay, Is Division Itself. To Couple Hatred, Therefore, Though Wedlock Try All Her Golden Links, And Borrow To Tier Aid All The Iron Manacles And Fetters Of Law, It Does But Seek To Twist A Rope Of Sand.

Knowledge Forbidden? Suspicious, Reasonless. Why Should Their Lord Envy Them That? Can It Be Sin To Know, Can It Be Death? And Do They Only Stand By Ignorance? Is That Their Happy State, The Proof Of Their Obedience And Their Faith? O Fair Foundation Laid Whereon To Build Their Ruin!

To Live A Life Half Dead, A Living Death.

Though All The Winds Of Doctrine Were Let Loose To Play Upon The Earth, So Truth Be In The Field, We Do Injuriously By Licensing And Prohibiting To Misdoubt Her Strength. Let Her And Falsehood Grapple; Who Ever Knew Truth Put To The Worse, In A Free And Open Encounter.

Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible.

A Death-like Sleep, A Gentle Wafting To Immortal Life.

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.

Yet Hold It More Humane, More Heav'nly, First, By Winning Words To Conquer Willing Hearts, And Make Persuasion Do The Work Of Fear.

And The More I See Pleasures About Me, So Much More I Feel Torment Within Me.

Paradise Lost Book 9

Hope Allows Us To Bid Farewell To Fear.

Indu'd With Sanctity Of Reason.

From Haunted Spring And Dale Edg'd With Poplar Pale The Parting Genius Is With Sighing Sent.

Imparadis'd In One Another's Arms.

I Will Point Ye Out The Right Path Of A Virtuous And Noble Education; Laborious Indeed At First Ascent, But Else So Smooth, So Green, So Full Of Goodly Prospect, And Melodious Sounds On Every Side, That The Harp Of Orpheus Was Not More Charming.

Which Way I Fly Is Hell; Myself Am Hell.

What Am I Pondering, You Ask? So Help Me God, Immortality.

O'er Many A Frozen, Many A Fiery Alp, Rocks, Caves, Lakes, Fens, Bogs, Dens, And Shades Of Death.

The Childhood Shows The Man, As Morning Shows The Day.

Those Graceful Acts, Those Thousand Decencies, That Daily Flow From All Her Words And Actions, Mixed With Love And Sweet Compliance, Which Declare Unfeigned Union Of Mind, Or In Us Both One Soul.

Was I Deceiv'd, Or Did A Sable Cloud Turn Forth Her Silver Lining On The Night?

Enflamed With The Study Of Learning And The Admiration Of Virtue; Stirred Up With High Hopes Of Living To Be Brave Men And Worthy Patriots, Dear To God, And Famous To All Ages.

But What More Oft In Nations Grown Corrupt, And By Their Vices Brought To Servitude, Than To Love Bondage More Than Liberty, Bondage With Ease Than Strenuous Liberty.

Morn, Wak'd By The Circling Hours, With Rosy Hand Unbarr'd The Gates Of Light.

Nor Turned I Ween Adam From His Fair Spouse, Nor Eve The Rites Mysterious Of Connubial Love Refused: Whatever Hypocrites Austerely Talk Of Purity And Place And Innocence, Defaming As Impure What God Declares Pure, And Commands To Some, Leaves Free To All.

Believe And Be Confirmed.

Man Hath His Daily Work Of Body Or Mind Appointed, Which Declares His Dignity, And The Regard Of Heav'n On All His Ways.

Evil On Itself Shall Back Recoil.

Meanwhile The Adversary Of God And Man, Satan With Thoughts Inflamed Of Highest Design, Puts On Swift Wings, And Towards The Gates Of Hell Explores His Solitary Flight.

Th' Imperial Ensign, Which Full High Advanc'd Shone Like A Meteor, Streaming To The Wind.

Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining.

Taste This, And Be Henceforth Among The Gods Thyself A Goddess.

A Beardless Cynic Is The Shame Of Nature.

Nor Love Thy Life, Nor Hate; But What Thou Livest, Live Well; How Long, Or Short, Permit To Heaven.

Who Overcomes By Force, Hath Overcome But Half His Foe.

And To The Faithful: Death, The Gate Of Life.

The Mind Is Its Own Place, And In Itself, Can Make Heaven Of Hell, And A Hell Of Heaven.

Then Might Ye See Cowls, Hoods, And Habits With Their Wearers Tost And Flutter'd Into Rags; Then Reliques, Beads, Indulgences, Dispenses, Pardons, Bulls, The Sport Of Winds; All These Upwhirl'd Aloft Fly To The Rearward Of The World Far Off Into A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Called The Paradise Of Fools.

Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint.

Wickedness Is Weakness.

No Date Prefixed Directs Me In The Starry Rubric Set.

Good Luck Befriend Thee, Son; For At Thy Birth The Fairy Ladies Danced Upon The Hearth.

The Mountain Nymph, Sweet Liberty.

Nor Aught Availed Him Now To Have Built In Heaven High Towers; Nor Did He Scrape By All His Engines, But Was Headlong Sent With His Industrious Crew To Build In Hell.

None But Such As Are Good Men Can Give Good Things, And That Which Is Not Good, Is Not Delicious To A Well-govern'd And Wise Appetite.

Truth Is As Impossible To Be Soiled By Any Outward Touch As The Sunbeam.

Darkness Now Rose, As Daylight Sunk, And Brought In Low'ring Night Her Shadowy Offspring.

Say, Heavenly Pow'rs, Where Shall We Find Such Love? Which Of Ye Will Be Mortal To Redeem Man's Mortal Crime, And Just Th' Unjust To Save.

Courtesy Which Oft Is Found In Lowly Sheds, With Smoky Rafters, Than In Tapestry Halls And Courts Of Princes, Where It First Was Named.

And Ever Against Eating Cares Lap Me In Soft Lydian Airs, Married To Immortal Verse

Witness This New-made World, Another Heav'n From Heaven Gate Not Farr, Founded In View On The Clear Hyaline, The Glassie Sea; Of Amplitude Almost Immense, With Starr's Numerous, And Every Starr Perhaps A World Of Destined Habitation.

And Grace That Won Who Saw To Wish Her Stay.

The Angel Ended, And In Adam's Ear So Charming Left His Voice, That He Awhile Thought Him Still Speaking, Still Stood Fix'd To Hear.

Hide Me From Day's Garish Eye, While The Bee With Honied Thigh, That At Her Flowery Work Doth Sing, And The Waters Murmuring With Such Consort As They Keep, Entice The Dewy-feathered Sleep.

It Is Not Good That Man Should Be Alone. ... Hitherto All Things That Have Been Named, Were Approved Of God To Be Very Good: Loneliness Is The First Thing Which God's Eye Named Not Good: Whether It Be A Thing, Or The Want Of Something, I Labour Not.

But Oh The Heavy Change, Now Thou Art Gone, Now Thou Art Gone And Never Must Return!

God Made Thee Perfect, Not Immutable.

And, Re-assembling Our Afflicted Powers, Consult How We May Henceforth Most Offend.

But Now My Task Is Smoothly Done, I Can Fly, Or I Can Run Quickly To The Green Earth's End, Where The Bow'd Welkin Slow Doth Bend, And From Thence Can Soar As Soon To The Corners Of The Moon.

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

Anon Out Of The Earth A Fabric Huge Rose, Like An Exhalation.

Immortal Amarant, A Flower Which Once In Paradise, Fast By The Tree Of Life, Began To Bloom; But Soon For Man's Offence To Heaven Removed, Where First It Grew, There Grows, And Flowers Aloft, Shading The Fount Of Life, And Where The River Of Bliss Through Midst Of Heaven Rolls O'er Elysian Flowers Her Amber Stream: With These That Never Fade The Spirits Elect Bind Their Resplendent Locks.

The Spirits Perverse With Easy Intercourse Pass To And Fro, To Tempt Or Punish Mortals.

Nor Think Thou With Wind Of æry Threats To Awe Whom Yet With Deeds Thou Canst Not.

Where Eldest Night And Chaos, Ancestors Of Nature, Hold Eternal Anarchy Amidst The Noise Of Endless Wars, And By Confusion Stand; For Hot, Cold, Moist, And Dry, Four Champions Fierce, Strive Here For Mast'ry.

Spirits That Live Throughout, Vital In Every Part, Not As Frail Man, In Entrails, Heart Or Head, Liver Or Reins, Cannot But By Annihilating Die.

He That Can Apprehend And Consider Vice With All Her Baits And Seeming Pleasures, And Yet Abstain, And Yet Distinguish, And Yet Prefer That Which Is Truly Better, He Is The True Wayfaring Christian. I Cannot Praise A Fugitive And Cloistered Virtue, Unexercised And Unbreathed, That Never Sallies Out And Sees Her Adversary, But Slinks Out Of The Race, Where That Immortal Garland Is To Be Run For, Not Without Dust And Heat. Assuredly We Bring Not Innocence Into The World, We Bring Impurity Much Rather: That Which Purifies Us Is Trial, And Trial Is By What Is Contrary.

There Is No Christian Duty That Is Not To Be Seasoned And Set Off With Cheerishness, Which In A Thousand Outward And Intermitting Crosses May Yet Be Done Well, As In This Vale Of Tears.

What Can 'scape The Eye Of God, All-seeing, Or Deceive His Heart. Omniscient!

So Little Knows Any, But God Alone, But Perverts Best Things To Worst Abuse, Or To Their Meanest Use.

So Satan, Whom Repulse Upon Repulse Met Ever, And To Shameful Silence Brought, Yet Gives Not O'er Though Desperate Of Success.

Knowledge Forbidden? Suspicious, Reasonless. Why Should Their Lord Envy Them That? Can It Be A Sin To Know? Can It Be Death?

And As An Ev'ning Dragon Came, Assailant On The Perched Roosts And Nests In Order Rang'd Of Tame Villatic Fowl.

Or Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's Child!

Who Reads Incessantly, And To His Reading Brings Not A Spirit And Judgment Equal Or Superior, (and What He Brings What Need He Elsewhere Seek?) Uncertain And Unsettled Still Remains, Deep Versed In Books And Shallow In Himself, Crude Or Intoxicate, Collecting Toys And Trifles For Choice Matters, Worth A Sponge, As Children Gathering Pebbles On The Shore.

Assuredly We Bring Not Innocence Not The World, We Bring Impurity Much Rather: That Which Purifies Us Is Trial, And Trial Is By What Is Contrary.

No Institution Which Does Not Continually Test Its Ideals, Techniques And Measure Of Accomplishment Can Claim Real Vitality.

The Redundant Locks, Robustious To No Purpose, Clustering Down--vast Monument Of Strength.

For The Air Of Youth, Hopeful And Cheerful, In Thy Blood Will Reign A Melancholy Damp Of Cold And Dry To Weigh Thy Spirits Down, And Last Consume The Balm Of Life.

What Neat Repast Shall Feast Us, Light And Choice, Of Attic Taste?

The Oracles Are Dumb, No Voice Or Hideous Hum Runs Thro' The Arched Roof In Words Deceiving.

They, Looking Back, All The Eastern Side Beheld Of Paradise, So Late Their Happy Seat, Waved Over By That Flaming Brand, The Gate With Dreadful Faces Thronged And Fiery Arms: Some Natural Tears They Dropped, But Wiped Them Soon; The World Was All Before Them, Where To Choose Their Place Of Rest, And Providence Their Guide; They, Hand In Hand, With Wandering Steps And Slow, Through Eden Took Their Solitary Way.

For Truth Is Strong Next To The Almighty. She Needs No Policies Or Stratagems Or Licensings To Make Her Victorious. These Are The Shifts And The Defences That Error Uses Against Her Power.

Such Joy Ambition Finds.

Extol Not Riches Then, The Toil Of Fools, The Wise Man's Cumbrance, If Not Snare, More Apt To Slacken Virtue, And Abate Her Edge, Than Prompt Her To Do Aught May Merit Praise.

O Loss Of Sight, Of Thee I Most Complain! Blind Among Enemies, O Worse Than Chains, Dungeon, Or Beggary, Or Decrepit Age!

When Thou Attended Gloriously From Heaven , Shalt In The Sky Appear, And From Thee Send Thy Summoning Archangels To Proclaim Thy Dread Tribunal.

Is It True, O Christ In Heaven, That The Highest Suffer The Most? That The Strongest Wander Furthest And Most Hopelessly Are Lost? That The Mark Of Rank In Nature Is Capacity For Pain? That The Anguish Of The Singer Makes The Sweetness Of The Strain?

Boast Not Of What Thou Would'st Have Done, But Do.

Who Aspires Must Down As Low As High He Soar'd.

Paradise Lost Book 9

But Say That Death Be Not One Stroke, As I Supposed, Bereaving Sense, But Endless Misery From This Day Onward, Which I Feel Begun Both In Me, And Without Me, And So Last To Perpetuity; Ay Me, That Fear Comes Thund'ring Back With Dreadful Revolution On My Defenceless Head; Both Death And I Am Found Eternal, And Incorporate Both, Nor I On My Part Single, In Me All Paradise Lost Posterity Stands Cursed: Fair Patrimony That I Must Leave Ye, Sons; O Were I Able To Waste It All Myself, And Leave Ye None!

But Let My Due Feet Never Fail To Walk The Studious Cloisters Pale, And Love The High Embowed Roof, With Antique Pillars Massy Proof, And Storied Windows Richly Dight; Casting A Dim Religious Light.

God Is Decreeing To Begin Some Newand Great Period In His Church, Even To The Reforming Of Reformation Itself. What Does He Then But Reveal Himself To His Servants, And As His Manner Is, First To His Englishmen?

Tower'd Cities Please Us Then, And The Busy Hum Of Men.

And Storied Windows Richly Dight, Casting A Dim Religious Light. There Let The Pealing Organ Blow, To The Full-voiced Choir Below, In Service High, And Anthems Clear As May, With Sweetness, Through Mine Ear Dissolve Me Into Ecstasies, And Bring All Heaven Before Mine Eyes.

He Scarce Had Ceased When The Superior 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 Fésolè, Or In Valdarno, To Descry New Lands, Rivers Or Mountains In Her Spotty Globe.

For Solomon, He Lived At Ease, And Full Of Honour, Wealth, High Fare, Aimed Not Beyond Higher Design Than To Enjoy His State.

Long Is The Way And Hard, That Out Of Hell Leads Up To Light.

Let None Admire That Riches Grow In Hell; That Soil May Best Deserve The Precious Bane.

Look Homeward, Angel, Now, And Melt With Ruth.

If At Great Things Thou Would'st Arrive, Get Riches First, Get Wealth, And Treasure Heap, Not Difficult, If Thou Hearken To Me; Riches Are Mine, Fortune Is In My Hand, They Whom I Favor Thrive In Wealth Amain, While Virtue, Valor, Wisdom, Sit In Want.

My Sentence Is For Open War.

There Swift Return Diurnal, Merely To Officiate Light Round This Opacous Earth, This Punctual Spot.

Behold Now This Vast City [london]; A City Of Refuge, The Mansion-house Of Liberty, Encompassed And Surrounded With His Protection.

Abashed The Devil Stood And Felt How Awful Goodness Is And Saw Virtue In Her Shape How Lovely: And Pined His Loss

Who Kills A Man Kills A Reasonable Creature, God's Image; But He Who Destroys A Good Book, Kills Reason Itself, Kills The Image Of God, As It Were, In The Eye.

Methinks I See In My Mind A Noble And Puissant Nation Rousing Herself Like A Strong Man After Sleep, And Shaking Her Invincible Locks; Methinks I See Her As An Eagle Mewing Her Mighty Youth, And Kindling Her Undazzled Eyes At The Full Midday Beam.

Solitude Sometimes Is Best Society.

Let Us Descend Now Therefore From This Top Of Speculation.

And Yet On The Other Hand Unless Warinesse Be Us'd, As Good Almost Kill A Man As Kill A Good Book; Who Kills A Man Kills A Reasonable Creature, Gods Image, But Hee Who Destroyes A Good Booke, Kills Reason It Selfe, Kills The Image Of God, As It Were In The Eye.

How Oft, In Nations Gone Corrupt, And By Their Own Devices Brought Down To Servitude, That Man Chooses Bondage Before Liberty. Bondage With Ease Before Strenuous Liberty.

Lifted Up So High I Disdained Subjection, And Thought One Step Higher Would Set Me Highest.

Bring The Rathe Primrose That Forsaken Dies, The Tufted Crow-toe, And Pale Gessamine, The White Pink, And The Pansy Freaked With Jet, The Glowing Violet, The Musk-rose, And The Well Attir'd Woodbine, With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears: Bid Amaranthus All His Beauty Shed, And Daffadillies Fill Their Cups With Tears, To Strew The Laureate Hearse Where Lycid Lies.

The Spirit Of Man, Which God Inspired, Cannot Together Perish With This Corporeal Clod.

More Safe I Sing With Mortal Voice, Unchang'd To Hoarse Or Mute, Though Fall'n On Evil Days, On Evil Days Though Fall'n, And Evil Tongues.

Live While Ye May, Yet Happy Pair.

No Mighty Trance, Or Breathed Spell Inspires The Pale-eyed Priest From The Prophetic Cell.

Who, As They Sung, Would Take The Prison'd Soul And Lap It In Elysium.

My Mansion Is, Where Those Immortal Shapes Of Bright Aerial Spirits Live Insphered In Regions Mild Of Calm And Serene Air, Above The Smoke And Stir Of This Dim Spot Which Men Call Earth.

If By Prayer Incessant I Could Hope To Change The Will Of Him Who All Things Can, I Would Not Cease To Weary Him With My Assiduous Cries; But Prayer Against His Absolute Decree No More Avails Than Breath Against The Wind Blown Stifling Back On Him That Breathes It Forth: Therefore To His Great Bidding I Submit.

Our Torments Also May In Length Of Time Become Our Elements.

Now I See Peace To Corrupt No Less Than War To Waste.

Sport, That Wrinkled Care Derides, And Laughter Holding Both His Sides. Come And Trip It As Ye Go, On The Light Fantastic Toe.

The Earth, Though In Comparison Of Heaven So Small, Nor Glistering, May Of Solid Good Contain More Plenty Than The Sun, That Barren Shines.

A Bevy Of Fair Women.

I Call A Complete And Generous Education That Which Fits A Man To Perform Justly, Skillfully, And Magnanimously All The Offices, Both Private And Public, Of Peace And War.

Courage Never To Submit Of Yield.

O Sun, To Tell Thee How I Hate Thy Beams That Bring To My Remembrance From What State I Fell, How Glorious Once Above Thy Sphere.

The Great Emathian Conqueror Bid Spare The House Of Pindarus, When Temple And Tower Went To The Ground.

Let No Man Seek Henceforth To Be Foretold That Shall Befall Him Or His Children.

Fear Of Change Perplexes Monarchs.

Ah, Why Should All Mankind For One Man's Fault, Be Condemned, If Guiltless?

To Be Blind Is Not Miserable; Not To Be Able To Bear Blindness, That Is Miserable.

Alas! What Boots It With Uncessant Care To Tend The Homely Slighted Shepherd's Trade, And Strictly Meditate The Thankless Muse; Were It Not Better Done As Others Use, To Sport With Amaryllis In The Shade, Or With The Tangles Of Neaera's Hair? Fame Is The Spur That The Clear Spirit Doth Raise (that Last Infirmity Of Noble Mind) To Scorn Delights, And Live Laborious Days; But The Fair Guerdon When We Hope To Find, And Think To Burst Out Into Sudden Blaze, Comes The Blind Fury With Th'abhorred Shears, And Slits The Thin-spun Life.

Avenge, O Lord, Thy Slaughtered Saints, Whose Bones Lie Scattered On The Alpine Mountains Cold; Ev'n Them Who Kept Thy Truth So Pure Of Old When All Our Fathers Worshipped Stocks And Stones Forget Not.

Take Heed Lest Passion Sway Thy Judgement To Do Aught, Which Else Free Will Would Not Admit.

Let None Henceforth Seek Needless Cause To Approve The Faith They Owe; When Earnestly They Seek Such Proof, Conclude, They Then Begin To Fail.

He Touch'd The Tender Stops Of Various Quills, With Eager Thought Warbling His Doric Lay.

Pleas'd Me, Long Choosing And Beginning Late.

Paradise Lost Book 9

Where Peace And Rest Can Never Dwell, Hope Never Comes, That Comes To All.

Zeal And Duty Are Not Slow But On Occasion's Forelock Watchful Wait.

Yet Some There Be That By Due Steps Aspire To Lay Their Just Hands On That Golden Key That Opes The Palace Of Eternity.

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