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This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Knowing
Use
Wherein
Left
Inferior
Hands
Inferiors
May
Account
Writing
Manner
Accounts
Hand

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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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His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
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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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How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
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If this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.
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Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold.
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My sentence is for open war.
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Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook.
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This is servitude, To serve th'unwise, or him who hath rebelled Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled.
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On the tawny sands and shelves trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
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As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
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So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lostEvil,be thou my good.
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Some say no evil thing that walks by night, In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
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Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
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As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore. Or if I would delight my private hours With music or with poem, where so soon As in our native language can I find That solace?
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If we think we regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all regulations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man.
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Danger will wink on opportunity.
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Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child!
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And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
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