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Thrones, dominions, princedoms, virtues, powers-- If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Virtue
Dominions
Dominion
Thrones
Virtues
Titles
Powers
Remain
Merely

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All seemed well pleased, all seemed, but were not all.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
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O when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour joined?
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Don't hold grudges it's pointless. Jealousy too is a non-cathartic, negative emotion. .
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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But hail thou Goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue.
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A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.
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So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature: This is old age but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered weak and grey.
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My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!
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... then there was war in heaven. But it was not angels. It was that small golden zeppelin, like a long oval world, high up. It seemed as if the cosmic order were gone, as if there had come a new order, a new heavens above us: and as if the world in anger were trying to revoke it.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
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Our cure, to be no more sad cure!
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Abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.
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From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,- A summer's day and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed.
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