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.

These evils I deserve, and more
. . . .
Justly, yet despair not of his final read more

These evils I deserve, and more
. . . .
Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon,
Whose ear is ever open, and his eye
Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.

Peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war.

Peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war.

Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence
With vizor'd falsehood and base forgery?

Hast thou betrayed my credulous innocence
With vizor'd falsehood and base forgery?

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend read more

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love.