John Milton

"He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme."

"Without the meed of some melodious tear."

"Under the opening eyelids of the morn, We drove afield; and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night."

"But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!"

"The gadding vine."

"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil."

"It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigged with curses dark, That sunk so low that sacred head of thine."

"Last came, and last did go, The Pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain)."

"Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook."

"The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said; But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more."

"Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes That on the green turf suck the honied showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freakt with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears."

"Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world."

"Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth."

"For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed; And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky. So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walked the waves."

"Alas! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse? Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorrèd shears, And slits the thin-spun life."

"What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labor of an age in pilèd stones, Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?"

"And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die."

"How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!"

"Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If ever deed of honour did thee please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms."

"The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground."

"Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie."

"Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof."

"Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race: Call on the lazy leaden-stepping Hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain, And merely mortal dross."

"O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warbl'st at eve, when all the woods are still."

"Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,"

"Where the bright seraphim in burning row Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow."

"A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him."

"By labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die."

"He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem."

"His words ... like so many nimble and airy servitors trip about him at command."

"I will not deny but that the best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words."

"So little care they of beasts to make them men, that by their sorcerous doctrine of formalities, they take the way to transform them out of Christian men into judaizing beasts. Had they but taught the land, or suffered it to be taught, as Christ would it should have been in all plenteous dispensation of the word, then the poor mechanic might have so accustomed his ear to good teaching, as to have discerned between faithful teachers and false. But now, with a most inhuman cruelty, they who have put out the people's eyes, reproach them of their blindness; just as the Pharisees their true fathers were wont, who could not endure that the people should be thought competent judges of Christ's doctrine, although we know they judged far better than those great rabbis: yet “this people,” said they, “that know not the law is accursed.”"

"Truth...never comes into the world but like a bastard, to the ignominy of him that brought her forth."

"Let not England forget her precedence of teaching nations how to live."

"Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam."

"Men of most renowned virtue have sometimes by transgressing most truly kept the law."

"New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ Large."

"For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains."

"For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrower, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè."

"None can love freedom heartily, but good men; the rest love not freedom, but license."

"No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free."

"Peace hath her victories No less renowned than war."

"When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless."

"Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait."

"Non est miserum esse caecum, miserum est caecitatem non posse ferre."

"Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones Forget not."

"Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench Of British Themis, with no mean applause Pronounced and in his volumes taught our Laws, Which others at their Bar so often wrench"

"Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate one jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up, and steer Right onward."

"Of which all Europe rings from side to side."

"In mirth that after no repenting draws."