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ancient appear arms beauty beneath born breath bright called character charm close clouds dark death deep delight doth earth English expression eyes fair fall fancy fear feel fire flowers give glory grace green hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human Italy king land Latin learned leaves light lines living look Lord meaning Milton mind morning mountains nature never night o'er once pass perhaps pleasure poem poet poetry praise pride reference rest rise rocks round says scene seems seen sense shade side sight silent sleep smile soft song soon soul sound speak spirit spring star stream sweet tears thee things thou thought true truth turn voice wave wide wild winds wings
274. oldal - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty ; Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
132. oldal - There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry ; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again ; And all went merry as a marriage-bell, But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
304. oldal - Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more, 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...
300. oldal - 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. Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear Compels me to disturb your season due; For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
302. oldal - Ay me! I fondly dream! Had ye been there, for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
278. oldal - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; •> I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil, that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; \ So let it be with Caesar.
457. oldal - Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have ofttimes no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men, Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much ; Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
91. oldal - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
273. oldal - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.