The Minor Poems of John Milton

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Harper, 1887 - Poetry - 229 pages
 

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Page 57 - 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; And join with thee calm peace and quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doth diet...
Page 54 - Sometimes with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the chequered shade...
Page 55 - 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...
Page 70 - Lead in swift round the months and years. The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, Now to the moon in wavering morrice move ; And on the tawny sands and shelves Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
Page 103 - Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold ; Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Page 104 - And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that .wander in that perilous flood.
Page 43 - Nature, that heard such sound Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat the Airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling: She knew such harmony alone Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.
Page 85 - Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harm Shall in the happy trial prove most glory. But evil on itself shall back recoil, And mix no more with goodness, when at last, Gathered like scum, and settled to itself, It shall be in eternal restless change Self-fed and self-consumed.
Page 102 - And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw...
Page 51 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings ; There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.

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