The Life of John Milton: Narrated in Connexion with the Political, Ecclesiastical, and Literary History of His Time

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Macmillan, 1875

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Página 483 - He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i' the centre and enjoy bright day : But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; Himself is his own dungeon.
Página 445 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled Dawn doth rise...
Página 486 - Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself ; If you let slip time, like a neglected rose It withers on the stalk with languished head. Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, Where most may wonder at' the workmanship ; It is for homely features to keep home, They had their name thence ; coarse complexions, And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool.
Página 330 - tis the soul of peace ; Of all the virtues 'tis nearest kin to heaven ; It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer, A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit, The first true gentleman that ever breath'd.
Página 149 - And I do declare that no foreign prince, person, prelate, state, or potentate hath, or ought to have, any jurisdiction, power, superiority, preeminence, or authority, ecclesiastical or spiritual, within this realm : So help me God.
Página 511 - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill...
Página 489 - Mortals, that would follow me, Love virtue; she alone is free. She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her.
Página 167 - For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ; Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble, with too much conceiving ; And, so sepulchred, in such pomp dost lie, That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.
Página 487 - Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheen Of turkis blue, and emerald green, That in the channel strays; Whilst from off the waters fleet Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.
Página 510 - 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 : Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew 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.

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