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Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Call
Earth
Men
Stir
Spot
Spots
Smoke

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No war or battle sound Was heard the world around.
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Our cure, to be no more sad cure!
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Where no hope is left, is left no fear.
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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.
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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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Sweet intercourse of looks and smiles for smiles from reason flow.
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But God himself is truth in propagating which, as men display a greater integrity and zeal, they approach nearer to the similitude of God, and possess a greater portion of his love.
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Heav'nly love shall outdoo Hellish hate
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And as an ev'ning dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic fowl.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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Which way I fly is Hell myself am Hell.
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For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrowers, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè.
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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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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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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
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So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.
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Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy.
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Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.
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O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
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For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.
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