John Milton

But O yet more miserable!
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.

But O yet more miserable!
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.

Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial
To my proportion'd strength.

Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial
To my proportion'd strength.

These eyes, tho' clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing read more

These eyes, tho' clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward.

'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity;
She that has that is clad in complete steel,
And, like a read more

'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity;
She that has that is clad in complete steel,
And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen,
May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths,
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;
Where, through the sacred rays of chastity,
No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,
Will dare to soil her virgin purity.

Thence to the famous orators repair,
Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce democratie,
read more

Thence to the famous orators repair,
Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce democratie,
Shook the Arsenal, and fulmined over Greece,
To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.