Quote

Ornate rhetorick taught out of the rule of Plato.... To which poetry would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less suttle and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Would
Rule
Ornate
Poetry
Subsequent
Fine
Sensuous
Taught
Precedent
Simple
Plato
Rather
Simplicity
Less
Passionate
Made
Indeed

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A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
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Now came still evening on and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
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The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
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Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.
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Our two first parents, yet the only two Of mankind, in the happy garden placed, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrivalled love In blissful solitude.
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Nor think thou with wind Of æry threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not.
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Here we may reign secure and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
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Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child!
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Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?
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Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
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Sweet intercourse of looks and smiles for smiles from reason flow.
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Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.
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The starry cope Of heaven.
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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
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A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.
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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
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Where no hope is left, is left no fear.
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But infinite in pardon is my Judge.
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