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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Nimble
Airy
Trip
Command
Words
Many
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Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.
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Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.
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O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n With Spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind?
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And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
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I on the other side Us'd no ambition to commend my deeds The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer.
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
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If this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.
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Hide me from day's garish eye.
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.
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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
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And these gems of Heav'n, her starry train.
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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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Evil, be thou my good.
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Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.
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Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.
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Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.
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Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.
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The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
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