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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
Merely
Virtue
Dominions
Dominion
Thrones
Virtues
Titles
Powers
Remain

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And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.
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Witness this new-made world, another Heav'n From Heaven Gate not farr, founded in view On the clear Hyaline, the Glassie Sea Of amplitude almost immense, with Starr's Numerous, and every Starr perhaps a world Of destined habitation.
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Here we may reign secure and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
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It is for homely features to keep home,- They had their name thence coarse complexions And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply The sampler and to tease the huswife's wool. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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Who can in reason then or right assume monarchy over such as live by right his equals, if in power or splendor less, in freedom equal?
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Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child!
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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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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I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein, Haply had ends above my reach to know.
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No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
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Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.
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O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.
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Thoughts that voluntary move Harmonious numbers.
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Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love.
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
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O when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour joined?
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