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Adam Angels appear arms bring called cause close comes dark death deep delight divine dread Earth equal eternal evil eyes fair faith fall father fear fell fire follow force fruit give glory gods hand happy hast hath head heard Heaven Hell hill hope human Italy King knowledge leave less light live look lost means meet Milton mind morning Nature never night once pain Paradise passed peace perhaps poem present reason received rest round Satan seat seek seemed sense shade shape side sight song soon sound Spirits stand stood sweet taste thee thence things thou thought throne till Tree true truth turned virtue voice wide winds wings worse
Page 99 - Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears: "Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.
Page 97 - And all their echoes, mourn. The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the rose, Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, When first the white-thorn blows ; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.
Page 102 - And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Page 56 - Stoutly struts his dames before : Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill...
Page 84 - Canace to wife, That owned the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar king did ride...
Page 100 - 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. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Page 56 - Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim, with daisies pied ; Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Page 132 - Archangel: but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate* pride Waiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast Signs of remorse and passion to behold The fellows of his crime, the followers rather (Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned For ever now to have their lot in pain...
Page 76 - May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day ; But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; Himself is his own dungeon.