John Milton ( 10 of 239 )
The work under our labour grows
Luxurious by restraint.
The work under our labour grows
Luxurious by restraint.
That in our proper motion we ascend
Up to our native seat; descent and fall
To give read more
That in our proper motion we ascend
Up to our native seat; descent and fall
To give us is adverse.
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:
read more
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day:
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun;
Himself his own dungeon.
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.
Experience, next, to thee I owe,
Best guide; not following thee, I had remain'd
In ignorance; thou read more
Experience, next, to thee I owe,
Best guide; not following thee, I had remain'd
In ignorance; thou open'st wisdom's way,
And giv'st access, though secret she retire.
Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth
The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth
The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
The imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind.
The imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind.
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.
O welcome pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope,
Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings!
O welcome pure-ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope,
Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings!
O loss of sight, of thee I most complain!
Blind among enemies, O worse than chains,
Dungeon, read more
O loss of sight, of thee I most complain!
Blind among enemies, O worse than chains,
Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age!
