John Milton

Swings the scaly horror of his folded tail.

Swings the scaly horror of his folded tail.

Yet I argue not
Again Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of right or hope; read more

Yet I argue not
Again Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of right or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward.

He seemed
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
But all was false and hollow.

He seemed
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
But all was false and hollow.

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
read more

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,
Forget not.

Dancing in the chequer'd shade.

Dancing in the chequer'd shade.