John Milton

How often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard
Celestial voices to the read more

How often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard
Celestial voices to the midnight air,
Sole, or responsive each to other's note,
Singing their great Creator?

And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.

And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.

Perplexed and troubled at his bad success
The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,
Discovered in read more

Perplexed and troubled at his bad success
The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,
Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope.

Swings the scaly horror of his folded tail.

Swings the scaly horror of his folded tail.

Without his rod revers'd,
And backward mutters of dissevering power.

Without his rod revers'd,
And backward mutters of dissevering power.