The poetical works of John Milton, Svazek 2

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Strana 129 - The lonely mountains o'er And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Strana 133 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning; The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Strana 61 - Their orators thou then extoll'st, as those The top of eloquence ; statists' indeed, And lovers of their country, as may seem ; But herein to our prophets far beneath, As men divinely taught, and better teaching The solid rules of civil government, In their majestic, unaffected style, Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. In them is plainest taught and easiest learnt, What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so, What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat ; These only with our law best form a king.
Strana 146 - But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. — But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
Strana 130 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Strana 122 - It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies ; Nature in awe to Him Had doffed her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize : It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.
Strana 121 - 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...
Strana 174 - Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown. In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, Where most may wonder at the workmanship ; It is for homely features to keep home, They had their name thence ; coarse complexions, And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply The sampler, and to tease the housewife's wool.
Strana 72 - Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree? The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
Strana 140 - That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring : Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse...

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