John Milton ( 10 of 239 )
Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.
Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.
The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he awhile
Thought him read more
The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he awhile
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.
The hasty multitude
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise,
And some the architect: his hand was read more
The hasty multitude
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise,
And some the architect: his hand was known
In heaven by many a tower'd structure high,
Where scepter'd angels held their residence,
And sat as princes.
These false pretexts and varnished colours failing,
Rare in thy guilt how foul must thou appear.
These false pretexts and varnished colours failing,
Rare in thy guilt how foul must thou appear.
Or stars of morning, dew-drops which the sun
Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
Or stars of morning, dew-drops which the sun
Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
Her rash hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat;
Earth felt read more
Her rash hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat;
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat
Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe
That all was lost.
In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.
In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.
. . . And when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown read more
. . . And when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
Or did the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears read more
Or did the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.
