The Poetical Works of John Milton: With Notes of Various Authors, Principally from the Editions of Thomas Newton, Charles Dunster and Thomas Warton ; to which is Prefixed Newton's Life of Milton, Volume 4 (Google eBook)

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W. Baxter, 1824
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Page 163 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. \ -. ., There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Page 209 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; 'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Page 31 - 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.
Page 137 - Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Page 208 - Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones, Forget not : in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks.
Page 138 - Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear. Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well, 15 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring ; Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
Page 215 - Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask ? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In Liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
Page 147 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days: But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears And slits the thin-spun life.
Page 142 - O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return ! Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes, mourn : The willows and the hazel copses green Shall now no more be seen...
Page 45 - Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence.

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