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Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Forests
Mets
Wide
Damsels
Lancelot
Knights
Forest
Fairy
More quotes by John Milton
Our country is where ever we are well off.
John Milton
Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
John Milton
I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.
John Milton
And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.
John Milton
There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
John Milton
Angels contented with their face in heaven, Seek not the praise of men.
John Milton
Nor from hell One step no more than from himself can fly By change of place.
John Milton
Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
John Milton
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
John Milton
What is dark within me, illumine.
John Milton
My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.
John Milton
Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
John Milton
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. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
John Milton
The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
John Milton
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
John Milton
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
John Milton
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
John Milton
Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
John Milton
Such joy ambition finds.
John Milton
How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
John Milton