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Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Steel
Breasts
Patience
Arms
Triple
Breast
Stubborn
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
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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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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
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Our country is where ever we are well off.
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For books are as meats and viands are some of good, some of evil sub-stance.
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Come and trip it as ye go On the light fantastic toe.
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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
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Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.
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Where shame is, there is also fear.
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As therefore the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of good and evil?
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A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
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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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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
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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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The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
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Calm of mind, all passion spent.
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