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But infinite in pardon is my Judge.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Pardon
Judge
Judging
Infinite

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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.
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Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.
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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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What reinforcement we may gain from hope If not, what resolution from despair.
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But all was false and hollow though his tongue Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, 4 to perplex and dash Maturest counsels.
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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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I will not deny but that the best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words.
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The great creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.
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Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
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The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.
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And as an ev'ning dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic fowl.
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Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
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