John Milton

"Americans needed at this time not so much intellectual arguments for basic positions as emotional symbols and detailed information addressed to specific issues in contest. Milton supplied both, but the strength of his imagery soon prevailed over the relevance of most of his principles. For Paradise Lost would soon become a main arsenal of propagandist devices, furnishing Americans with images and symbols which could rhetorically if not logically argue a cause."

"He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay."

"At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue: Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new."

"The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents."

"I neither oblige the belief of other person, nor overhastily subscribe mine own. Nor have I stood with others computing or collating years and chronologies, lest I should be vainly curious about the time and circumstance of things, whereof the substance is so much in doubt. By this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrives on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us with a clear dawn, representing to our view, though at a far distance, true colours and shapes."

"This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav'n'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."

"It was the winter wild While the Heav'n-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies."

"No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around. The idle spear and shield were high up hung."

"Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold."

"Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail."

"The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell."

"From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent."

"Peor and Baälim Forsake their temples dim."

"Hence, loathèd Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy."

"Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, Nods and becks and wreathèd smiles."

"Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter, holding both his sides. Come, and trip it, as you go. On the light fantastic toe."

"The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty."

"Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her, and live with thee, In unreprovèd pleasures free."

"While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before, Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn."

"And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale."

"Meadows trim, with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide; Towers and balements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighboring eyes."

"Herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses."

"And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth, and many a maid, Dancing in the checkered shade. And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday."

"Then to the spicy nut-brown ale."

"Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength."

"Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men."

"Ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize."

"And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry, Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild, 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."

"Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony."

"Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free His half-regained Eurydice. These delights, if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee, I mean to live."

"Hence vain deluding Joys, The brood of Folly without father bred!"

"The gay motes that people the sunbeams."

"And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes."

"Forget thyself to marble."

"And join with thee, calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet."

"And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure."

"Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!"

"I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heav'n's wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud."

"Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar."

"Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth."

"Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine."

"But, O sad Virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string, Drew Iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made Hell grant what Love did seek."

"Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold."

"Where more is meant than meets the ear."

"When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves."

"Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep."

"And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light. There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voiced choir below, In service high, and anthems clear As may, with sweetness, through mine ear Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes."

"Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain."

"He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day; But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself is his own dungeon."

"Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year."