Paradise Lost: A Poem in Twelve Books

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Hurd and Houghton, 1868 - Всего страниц: 409
 

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LibraryThing Review

Пользовательский отзыв  - VivalaErin - LibraryThing

The shortest answer is: John Milton was a poetic genius. PL is so beautiful, you can't help but feel for Adam and Eve. Even Satan is a great character - he so wants to be an epic hero. This poem is a masterpiece, and he wrote it completely blind. Beautiful, absolutely amazing. Читать весь отзыв

LibraryThing Review

Пользовательский отзыв  - StefanY - LibraryThing

Historical significance and beautifully descriptive prose aside, I couldn't get into this book at all. Maybe it's too much familiarity with the plot or the inevitability of the impending doom of the ... Читать весь отзыв

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Стр. 119 - With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild: then silent night, With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...
Стр. 138 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair : thyself how wondrous then, Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Стр. 139 - On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Стр. 120 - Nor think, though men were none, That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise. Millions of spiritual creatures walk the Earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep: All these with ceaseless praise his works behold Both day and night.
Стр. 339 - At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the 'first opening bud, and gave ye names ; Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?
Стр. 99 - Thou hadst : whom hast thou then, or what to accuse, But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all ? Be then his love accursed, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe. 70 Nay, cursed be thou ; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? "Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; " And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer...
Стр. 140 - Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Стр. 30 - Whose midnight revels, by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheels her pale course, they on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charm his ear; At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
Стр. 113 - What thou seest, what there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself; with thee it came and goes. But follow me, and I will bring thee where no shadow stays thy coming, and thy soft embraces, he whose image thou art; him thou shalt enjoy, inseparably thine, to him shalt bear multitudes like thyself, and thence be called mother of human race.
Стр. 54 - The other Shape — If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb; Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, For each seemed either — black it stood as Night, Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, And shook a dreadful dart: what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.

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