Quotes
Quotes - Milton
Their rising all at once was as the sound
Of thunder heard remote.
The low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.
Oh, shame to men! devil with devil damn'd
Firm concord holds, men only disagree
Of creatures rational.
In discourse more sweet;
For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense.
Others apart sat on a hill retir'd,
In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,
Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute;
And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.
Vain wisdom all and false philosophy.
Arm th' obdur'd breast
With stubborn patience as with triple steel.
A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog
Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,
Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air
Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire.
Thither by harpy-footed Furies hal'd,
At certain revolutions all the damn'd
Are brought, and feel by turns the bitter change
Of fierce extremes,--extremes by change more fierce;
From beds of raging fire to starve in ice
Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine
Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round,
Periods of time; thence hurried back to fire.
O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp,
Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.
Gorgons and Hydras and Chimæras dire.
The other shape,
If shape it might be call'd that shape had none
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;
Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd,
For each seem'd either,--black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
Satan was now at hand.
Whence and what art thou, execrable shape?
Back to thy punishment,
False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
So spake the grisly Terror.
Incens'd with indignation Satan stood
Unterrify'd, and like a comet burn'd
That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge
In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair
Shakes pestilence and war.
Their fatal hands
No second stroke intend.
Hell
Grew darker at their frown.
I fled, and cry'd out, DEATH!
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd
From all her caves, and back resounded, DEATH!
Before mine eyes in opposition sits
Grim Death, my son and foe.
Death
Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear
His famine should be fill'd.
On a sudden open fly,
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound,
Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder.
Where eldest Night
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold
Eternal anarchy amidst the noise
Of endless wars, and by confusion stand;
For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce,
Strive here for mast'ry.
Into this wild abyss,
The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave.
To compare
Great things with small.
O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,
And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,
Confusion worse confounded.
