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The great creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Work
World
Returned
Magnificent
Creator
Six
Days
Great

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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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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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To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.
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In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
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In discourse more sweet For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense. Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.
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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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Extol not riches then, the toil of fools, The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare, more apt To slacken virtue, and abate her edge, Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.
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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
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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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Evil, be thou my good.
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Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
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Where no hope is left, is left no fear.
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Eloquence the soul, song charms the senses.
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine.
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Our state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh to lose thee were to lose myself.
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My sentence is for open war.
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Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
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If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.
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