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How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! How glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Death
Sentences
Mother
Lays
Earth
Secure
Gladly
Would
Glad
Gladness
Meet
Lap
Dying
Mortality
Rest
Sentence
Sleep
Sensible

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Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
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O madness to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
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Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.
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If this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.
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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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In vain doth valour bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the land.
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To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.
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All seemed well pleased, all seemed, but were not all.
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Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.
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Moping melancholy And moon-struck madness.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
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O Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.
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It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.
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Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
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He who tempts, though in vain, at last asperses The tempted with dishonor foul, supposed Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation.
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Tis chastity, my brother, chastity She that has that is clad in complete steel, And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, Will dare to soil her virgin purity.
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