The Classical Mythology of Milton's English Poems

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Page lxi - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Page xv - The birds their quire apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring.
Page lii - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings...
Page xxv - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Page lvi - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out 140 With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Page lxxxii - For neither were ye playing on the steep Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. Ay me! I fondly dream "Had ye been there," — for what could that have done?
Page lix - Hence, vain deluding Joys, The brood of Folly without father bred! How little you bested, Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys!
Page xxxix - The star that bids the shepherd fold Now the top of heaven doth hold ; And the gilded car of day His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream : And the slope sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing toward the other goal Of his chamber in the east.
Page xxxviii - Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; Listen for dear honour's sake, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen, and save. Listen, and appear to us, In name of great Oceanus; By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And Tethys' grave majestic pace; By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wizard's hook; By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell; By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that...
Page xxxiii - Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end Of all thy dues be done, and none left out, Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice Morn on the Indian steep, From her cabined loophole peep, And to the telltale Sun descry Our concealed solemnity.

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