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Abyss Adam Almighty ancient Angels arms battle Beelzebub Belial Ben Jonson Bible bright called Chaos Chimæras Chorus Cicero Comus Dante dark Death Deep Define Demogorgon divine dread earth edition English epic Eternal evil Exod fate fear fierce fiery fire flames force Garnett glory gods gold Greek hath Heaven heavenly Hell Hesiod highth Homer host Iliad infernal John Milton King Landor Latin light Lord Lowell Mammon meaning mighty Milton mind Moloch Night o'er once Ormus Ovid pain Paradise Lost passage perhaps poem poet poetic poetry prose reign revenge rime rock round Satan says sense Seraphim Shak Shakespeare sound spear speech Spenser Spirits stood style sublime Tartarus Tasso Thammuz thee thence Theog things thou thought throne thunder tion Transferred epithet verb verse Virgil winds wings word Zeus
Page 70 - In courts and palaces he also reigns, And in luxurious cities, where the noise Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers, And injury, and outrage: And when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
Page 62 - Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and, in my choice, To reign is worth ambition, though in hell; Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.
Page 57 - What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome?
Page 181 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Page 105 - The other Shape — If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb...
Page 105 - And shook a dreadful dart: what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Satan was now at hand, and from his seat The monster moving onward came as fast With horrid strides ; Hell trembled as he strode.
Page 87 - To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated Night, Devoid of sense and motion?
Page 63 - Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers or mountains, in her spotty globe. His spear, — to equal which, the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand...