Paradise Lost: A Poem in Twelve Books. The Author John Milton. According to the Author's Last Edition, in the Year 1674

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W. and W. Smith, P. Wilson, and T. Ewing, 1767 - 348 էջ
 

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Էջ 124 - 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.
Էջ 88 - Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
Էջ 121 - Evil into the mind of God or man May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind...
Էջ 251 - Matter of scorn, not to be given the foe. However, I with thee have fix'd my lot, Certain to undergo like doom; if death Consort with thee, death is to me as life; So forcible within my heart I feel The bond of nature draw me to my own, My own in thee, for what thou art is mine; Our state cannot be sever'd, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.
Էջ 44 - Typhoean rage more fell, Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind ; hell scarce holds the wild uproar.
Էջ 7 - Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate, With head uplift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blazed ; his other parts besides, Prone on the flood, extended long and large, Lay floating many a rood...
Էջ 32 - Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry foe Can give it, or will ever? How he can Is doubtful; that he never will is sure.
Էջ 147 - Abdiel, faithful found, Among the faithless faithful only he; Among innumerable false unmoved, Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; Nor number nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind, Though single.
Էջ 208 - Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here? Not of myself; by some great Maker then, In goodness and in power pre-eminent: Tell me how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that I am happier than I know...
Էջ 25 - Sheer o'er the crystal battlements: from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day; and with the setting sun Dropt from the zenith, like a falling star, On Lemnos, the Aegean isle.

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