John Milton ( 10 of 239 )
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still;
Thou read more
O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still;
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
By merit raised
To that bad eminence.
By merit raised
To that bad eminence.
He's gone, and who knows how may he report
Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
He's gone, and who knows how may he report
Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
That in such righteousness
To them by faith imputed they may find
Justification towards God, and peace
read more
That in such righteousness
To them by faith imputed they may find
Justification towards God, and peace
Of conscience.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.
That golden key
That opes the palace of eternity.
That golden key
That opes the palace of eternity.
Rather than be less
Car'd not to be at all.
Rather than be less
Car'd not to be at all.
Deep versed in books and shallow in himself.
Deep versed in books and shallow in himself.
CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son read more
CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. That glorious form, that light insufferable, And that far-beaming blaze majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity He laid aside, and, here with us to be. Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet! Oh, run! present them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.
