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(In the first two cases, of a battle in the clouds, which the people regard as a warning.)

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The vivid Stars shine out, in radiant Files;
And boundless Ether glows, till the fair Moon
Shows her broad Visage, in the crimson'd East;
Now, stooping, seems to kiss the passing Cloud:
Now, o'er the pure Cerulean, rides sublime.
Wide the pale Deluge floats, with silver Waves.
Now glow'd the firmament

With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length
Apparent queen, unveil'd her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

Descends the ethereal force, and with strong gust
Turns from its bottom the discoloured deep.
The outrageous flood.

They view'd the vast immeasurable Abyss,
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom turn'd by furious winds.

And the thin Fabrick of the pillar'd Air.
His fabric of the heavens.

The pillar'd firmament is rottenness.

Till Nature's King, who oft

Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone.

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Tells how the drudging goblin sweat. . . .
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep.

Or beauteous freakt with many a mingled hue.
The pansy freakt with jet.

The loud misrule Of driving tempest.

The loud misrule Of Chaos.

Ill fares the bark, with trembling wretches charged,
That, tossed amid the floating fragments, moors
Beneath the shelter of an icy isle,

While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horror looks.
The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff
Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell . . .
Moors by his side under the lee, while night
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.

Winter (1st ed.), 88-93.

P. L. iv. 604-9.

Winter, 156-7.
Spring, 1071.

P. L. vii. 211-13.
Winter (1st ed.), 162.
P. L. viii. 76.
Comus, 598.

Winter, 197-8.

P. L. ii. 263-5.

Ib. 297-8.
Summer, 1650.

Comus, 205-7.

Winter, 617-20.

Allegro, 101-15.

Ib. 814.
Lycidas, 144.

Ib. 896-7.
P. L. vii. 271-2.

Ib. 1004-7.

P. L. i. 204-8.

More to embroil the deep, Leviathan And his unwieldy train in dreadful sport Tempest the loosened brine.

The broad monsters of the foaming deep...
... flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy.
Chaos... more embroils the fray.
Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait,
Tempest the ocean. There leviathan,
Hugest of living creatures, on the deep
Stretch'd like a promontory, sleeps or swims.

On the whirlwind's wing Riding sublime.
He on the wings of Cherub rode sublime.

Ib. 1014-16.

(Of the Deity in each case.)

As thick as idle motes in sunny ray.

As thick and numberless

As the gay motes that people the sunbeams.

Spring, 822-4. P. L. ii. 907-8.

P. L. vii. 411-14.

Hymn, 18-19.
P. L. vi. 771.

Castle of Indolence, I. xxix. 2.

Penseroso, 7-8.

(But cf. Chaucer's Wife of Bath's Tale, 12, “As thikke as motes in the sonne


When Dan Sol to slope his wheels began.

Till the star... had sloped his westering wheel.

His unpremeditated strain.

My unpremeditated verse.

With tottering step and slow.
With wandering steps and slow.

Bent on bold emprise.

I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise.

And tufted groves to shade the meadow-bed.
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.

With magic dust their eyne he tries to blind.
When once her eye

Hath met the virtue of this magic dust.

And o'er the nations shook her conquering dart. And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook. All that boon nature could luxuriant pour. Nature boon Pour'd forth profuse.

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(Of the muse in each case.)

Wings (of a goddess], Dipped in the colours of the heavenly bow. Ib. v. 549-50. Wings (of an angel] . . . with... colours dipt in heaven. P. L. v. 277-83.

With her hand,

Celestial red, she touched my darken'd eyes. [Of a goddess.] Ib. v. 558-9.
To whom the Angel, with a smile that glow'd

Celestial rosy red.

P. L. viii. 618-19.

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Lycidas, 170-71.

(Of the disappearance and return of a heavenly body in each case.)

The nibbling flock stray.

Where the nibbling flocks do stray.

The morning springs, in thousand liveries drest.
The clouds in thousand liveries dight.

Flowers of all hue, their queen the bashful rose.
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.

On Beauty, 13.
Allegro, 72.

Morning in the Country, 2.
Allegro, 62.

Lines on Marlefield, 22.
P. L. iv. 256.


But chiefly thou, great Ruler! Lord of all!
Before whose throne archangels prostrate fall;
If at thy nod, from discord, and from night,
Sprang beauty, and yon sparkling worlds of light,
Exalt e'en me; all inward tumults quell;
The clouds and darkness of my mind dispel;
To my great subject thou my breast inspire,
And raise my lab'ring soul with equal fire.

And chiefly thou, O Spirit... what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;

That to the highth of this great argument

I may assert Eternal Providence....

In the beginning how the Heavens and Earth
Rose out of Chaos.

And death might shake his threat'ning lance in vain.
[Death] shook a dreadful dart.

And the grand rebel flaming downward hurl'd.

Him [Satan] the Almighty Power
Hurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky.

Less glorious, when of old th' eternal Son
From realms of night return'd with trophies won:
Thro' heaven's high gates, when he triumphant rode,
And shouting angels hail'd the victor God.

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(A reference to P. L. vi. 880-90.)

1 Several of these parallels are pointed out in W. Thomas's Le Poète Edward Young (Paris, 1901), but 1 have not included all that M. Thomas notes. The figures in parentheses refer to the volume and page of the Aldine edition of Young (1852).

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Ten thousand fathom deep [in Chaos, an abyss dark and profound]. P. L. ii. 933-4.

The favour'd of their Judge, in triumph move

To take possession of their thrones above;

Satan's accurs'd desertion to supply,

And fill the vacant stations of the sky.

Last Day, iii (ii. 31).

(This is the reason given for the creation of man in P. L. iii. 677-9 and vii.

A lamp... sheds a quiv'ring melancholy gloom,
Which only shows the darkness of the room.

Yet from those flames

No light, but rather darkness visible.

And glory, at one entrance, quite shut out.
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

(Pointed out by Young.)

Till some god whispers in his tingling ear,
That fame's unwholesome taken without meat.
Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears:
"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil."

Naked in nothing should a woman be...

But yield her charms of mind with sweet delay.
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.

Thus the majestic mother of mankind,
To her own charms most amiably blind,
On the green margin innocently stood,
And gaz'd indulgent on the crystal flood;
Survey'd the stranger in the painted wave,
And, smiling, prais'd the beauties which she gave.
Like Milton's Eve, when gazing on the lake,
Man makes the matchless image, man admires.

Force of Religion, ii (ii. 47).

P. L. i. 62-3.

Love of Fame, ii (ii. 76).
P. L. iii. 50.

Ib. iv (ii. 92).

Lycidas, 77-8.

Ib. vi (ii. 117).

P. L. iv. 310-II.

Ib. vi (ii. 132–3).

Night Thoughts, vi (i. 124).

(Young refers in each case to Milton: cf. P. L. iv. 456-69.)

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