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The childhood shows the man As morning shows the day. Be famous then By wisdom as thy empire must extend, So let extend thy mind o'er all the world.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Shows
Extend
Must
Empire
Mind
Empires
Men
Famous
World
Ambition
Childhood
Wisdom
Morning

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Servant of God, well done! well hast thou fought The better fight, who single hast maintain'd Against revolted multitudes the cause of truth.
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God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest They also serve who only stand and wait.
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear
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Oh, shame to men! devil with devil damn'd Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational.
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God shall be all in all.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.
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But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns All patience.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
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So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
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Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
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In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause.
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Nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.
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A short retirement urges a sweet return.
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Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.
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Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.
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Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale.
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Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
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