Maxioms by John Milton
Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.
Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.
By merit raised
To that bad eminence.
By merit raised
To that bad eminence.
And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.
And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.
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!
I was all ear,
And took in strains that might create a soul
Under the ribs of read more
I was all ear,
And took in strains that might create a soul
Under the ribs of death.
