John Milton

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

For I no sooner in my heart divin'd
My heart, which by a secret harmony
Still moves read more

For I no sooner in my heart divin'd
My heart, which by a secret harmony
Still moves with thine, joined in connection sweet.

Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

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!

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.