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Angels Aubrey biographers Burtas called Christ's College Comus copies Cromwell dark daughter death delight divine dost doth earth edition Edward Phillips eyes fair fame father fear give glory Godw Godwin hand hath hear heard Heaven honour Ibid Jesus John John Milton Johnson king kingdom Lady Latin live long parliament Lord Lord Brackley Lycidas Milton mortal never night o'er Ovid Paradise Lost PARADISE REGAINED Parthian Phillips poem poet praise PSALM published reign Salmasius Satan Saviour says seems shades shalt shepherd sing Smectymnuus Son of God song soon soul spirit suppose sweet taught tell Tempter thee thence things thou art thou hast thought throne thyself tion Todd Toland told truth verses virgin virtue voice wife wood words written
第266页 - There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till With a sad, leaden, downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast.
第263页 - When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn That ten day-labourers could not end, Then lies him down, the lubber fiend, And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength ; And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings.
第268页 - The immortal mind, that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook : And of those demons that are found In fire, air, flood, or under ground, Whose power hath a true consent With planet, or with element. Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In scepter'd pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine; Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.
第269页 - And, when the Sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of Pine, or monumental Oak, Where the rude Axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
第261页 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid...
第314页 - For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ; Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble, with too much conceiving ; And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie, That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.
第292页 - With her great master so to sympathize : It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front with innocent snow ; And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw; Confounded that her maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
第222页 - Comus. The star that bids the shepherd fold Now the top of heaven doth hold; And the gilded car of Day His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream: And the slope Sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing toward the other goal Of his chamber in the east.
第251页 - But now my task is smoothly done, I can fly or I can run Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend ; And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the moon.
第296页 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.