John Milton

What boots it at one gate to make defence,
And at another to let in the foe?

What boots it at one gate to make defence,
And at another to let in the foe?

For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.

For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.

What does not destroy me, makes me strong.

What does not destroy me, makes me strong.

Black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart; read more

Black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Satan was now at hand.

Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.

Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.