John Milton

Now conscience wakes despair
That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and read more

Now conscience wakes despair
That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be
Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue!

Her rash hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat;
Earth felt read more

Her rash hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat;
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat
Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe
That all was lost.

Some cursed fraud
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,
And me with thee hath ruined.

Some cursed fraud
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,
And me with thee hath ruined.

Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour
Friendliest to sleep and silence.

Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour
Friendliest to sleep and silence.

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son read more

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. That glorious form, that light insufferable, And that far-beaming blaze majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity He laid aside, and, here with us to be. Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet! Oh, run! present them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.