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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Roots
Credulous
Tree
Dire
Mother
Snake
Prohibition
Woe
Snakes
Fraud
Root
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Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear
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At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.
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Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
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If all the world Should in a pet of temp'rance, feed on pulse, Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unprais'd.
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Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
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Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names.
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Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
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A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit.
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Meanwhile the Adversary of God and man, Satan with thoughts inflamed of highest design, Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of hell Explores his solitary flight.
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And grace that won who saw to wish her stay.
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So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.
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How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! How glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
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Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
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But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns All patience.
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The great creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.
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This is the month, and this the happy morn, wherein the Son of heaven's eternal King, of wedded Maid and Virgin Mother born, our great redemption from above did bring.
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Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
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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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