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Milton's father was a scrivener and musical composer with sufficient prosperity to provide academic tutoring for his 'special' intelligent and effeminate son, who studied very hard, and is among the ... Read full review
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Aldersgate Street Amor Anglicano Anno atatis Atque blind Bread Street brothers called Cambridge Charles Diodati Christ's College Church Commonwealth Comus Council Cromwell Cromwell's Cyriack daughter death Defensio Secunda divine domino jam domum impasti doth Earl edition Elegy England English fair father Greek hand Harefield hast hath Heaven Henry Henry Lawes honour Horton ipse Italian jam non vacat John John Milton King King's Lady Latin Latin Poems Lawes Lawes's Leonora Baroni letters lines live London Long Parliament Lord Ludlow Ludlow Castle Lycidas Manso married masque mihi Milton Muse Nunc pamphlet Petty France pieces poet poetry Presbyterians printed prose Psalms published Puritan quae quid Salmasius Scotland Scots shepherd sing Smectymnuus song Sonnet soul Stowmarket sweet thee thou Thyrsis tibi UNIVERSITY CARRIER verse volume Westminster Assembly wife written young youth
Page 202 - the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me ! I fondly dream " Had ye been there," ... for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, 60
Page 184 - To a degenerate and degraded state. Sec. Bro. How charming is divine Philosophy ! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns. Eld. Bro. List! list! I hear
Page 145 - SONG ON MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning-star, Day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ! Woods and groves are of thy dressing ; Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Page 142 - xxv. He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand ; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn ; Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide, Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine : Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew. 1
Page 157 - In fire, air, flood, or underground, Whose power hath a true consent With planet or with element. Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops ' line, Or the tale of Troy divine, 100 Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskined stage. But, O sad Virgin ! that thy power Might raise
Page 153 - junkets eat. She was pinched and pulled, she said ; And he, by Friar's lantern led, Tells how the drudging goblin sweat To earn his cream-bowl duly set, 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,
Page 216 - Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, What severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done. The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. XVIII. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT.
Page 150 - 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. 10
Page 198 - All the swains that there abide With jigs and rural dance resort. We shall catch them at their sport, And our sudden coming there Will double all their mirth and cheer. Come, let us haste ; the stars grow high, But Night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. The Scene changes,
Page 201 - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill; Together both, ere the high lawns appeared Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, We drove a-field, and both together heard What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn, Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, Oft till the star that rose at evening bright 30 Toward heaven's