John Milton ( 10 of 239 )
Deep versed in books and shallow in himself.
Deep versed in books and shallow in himself.
But his zeal
None seconded, as out of season judged,
Or singular and rash.
But his zeal
None seconded, as out of season judged,
Or singular and rash.
Of whom to be disprais'd were no small praise.
Of whom to be disprais'd were no small praise.
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 never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.
And, weaponless himself,
Made arms ridiculous.
Ring out ye crystal spheres!
Once bless our human ears,
If ye have power to touch our read more
Ring out ye crystal spheres!
Once bless our human ears,
If ye have power to touch our senses so;
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time,
And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow;
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.
CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son read more
CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. That glorious form, that light insufferable, And that far-beaming blaze majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity He laid aside, and, here with us to be. Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet! Oh, run! present them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
