The Poetical Works of John Milton,: Edited from the Original Texts by the Rev. H.C. BeechingClarendon Press, 1900 - 554 pàgines |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Poetical Works of John Milton: Edited from the Original Texts by the Rev ... John Milton Visualització completa - 1900 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Adam agni Angels Arms Battel Beast behold bliss brest bright call'd Cherubim Chor Clouds Dagon dark Death deeds deep delight didst Divine doth dread dwell e're Earth Eternal evil eyes fair farr Father fear fræna Fruit giv'n glory Gods grace Hæc hand happie hast hath heard heart Heav'n heav'nly Hell highth Hill honour ipse Israel JOHN MILTON King light live Lord lost Lycidas malè Messiah mihi night numina o're Paradise PARADISE LOST Paradise Regain'd peace praise PSAL quæ rais'd repli'd round Samson Agonistes Satan seat seemd Serpent shade shalt shew sight Skie Son of God Song soon Soul spake Spirits Starrs stood strength sweet taste thee thence thine things thir thither thou art thou hast thought Throne tibi Tree Tu quoque vertue voice wandring Warr whence wings World ΙΟ
Passatges populars
Pàgina 262 - 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" mild; then silent night With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...
Pàgina 183 - A dungeon horrible on all sides round, As one great furnace flam'd ; yet from those flames No light ; but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell ; hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed...
Pàgina 42 - Weep no more, woeful shepherds weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore 170 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Pàgina 550 - Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast; no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame; nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
Pàgina 40 - Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow, His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe. "Ah; Who hath reft" (quoth he) "my dearest pledge?
Pàgina 61 - 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 nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Pàgina 15 - With saintly shout and solemn jubilee ; Where the bright Seraphim in burning row Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow ; And the Cherubic host in thousand quires Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms Singing everlastingly...
Pàgina 41 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Pàgina 21 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Pàgina 23 - Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And Pomp, and Feast, and Revelry, With Mask, and antique Pageantry; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves, by haunted stream.