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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Heaven
War
Brooks
Seat
Seats
Bliss
Works
Violence

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To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory.
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn! Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate!
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Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
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Where no hope is left, is left no fear.
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Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.
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Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
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None But such as are good men can give good things, And that which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
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Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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This horror will grow mild, this darkness light Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting--since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.
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What boots it at one gate to make defence, And at another to let in the foe?
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Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.
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Abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.
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Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.
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Servant of God, well done! well hast thou fought The better fight, who single hast maintain'd Against revolted multitudes the cause of truth.
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Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.
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Our country is where ever we are well off.
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A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.
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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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