Paradise Lost: A Poem in Twelve Books

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T. Bedlington, 1826 - 294 pÓgines

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PÓgina 101 - Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
PÓgina 85 - When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening
PÓgina 26 - A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat, and public care; And princely counsel in his face yet shone Majestic, though in ruin: sage he stood, "With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look Drew audience and attention still as night, Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake: " Thrones, and imperial powers, offspring of heaven, Ethereal virtues!
PÓgina 48 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
PÓgina 85 - With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of Heaven her starry train : But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising sun On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew ; nor fragrance, after showers ; Nor grateful evening mild ; nor silent Night, With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
PÓgina 6 - He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast ; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesole Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
PÓgina 43 - O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.
PÓgina 74 - Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, Which from his darksome passage now appears : And now, divided into four main streams, Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm And country...
PÓgina 6 - Over the burning marie, not like those steps On heaven's azure ; and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.

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