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Angels contented with their face in heaven, Seek not the praise of men.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Angels
Angel
Praise
Seek
Face
Heaven
Faces
Men
Contented

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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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No war or battle sound Was heard the world around.
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Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
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Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
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Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.
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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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The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
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No mighty trance, or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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Where all life dies death lives.
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Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
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Imparadis'd in one another's arms.
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Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.
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Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity.
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The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
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So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair that ever since in love's embraces met -- Adam, the goodliest man of men since born his sons the fairest of her daughters Eve.
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The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
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Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half
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And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe.
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