John Milton

Thus does the white swan, as he lies on the wet grass, when the
Fates summon him, sing at read more

Thus does the white swan, as he lies on the wet grass, when the
Fates summon him, sing at the fords of Maeander.

Experience, next, to thee I owe,
Best guide; not following thee, I had remain'd
In ignorance; thou read more

Experience, next, to thee I owe,
Best guide; not following thee, I had remain'd
In ignorance; thou open'st wisdom's way,
And giv'st access, though secret she retire.

But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear
read more

But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason, to perplex and dash
Maturest counsels.

The hasty multitude
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise,
And some the architect: his hand was read more

The hasty multitude
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise,
And some the architect: his hand was known
In heaven by many a tower'd structure high,
Where scepter'd angels held their residence,
And sat as princes.

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell,
. . . .
And boldly venture to read more

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell,
. . . .
And boldly venture to whatever place
Farthest from pain?