Paradise Lost, 1–2. raamat

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Longmans, Green, and Company, 1896
 

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Page xxxii - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt...
Page 73 - 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.
Page 40 - HIGH on a throne of royal state, • — which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus, and of Ind ; Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings Barbaric pearl and gold...
Page 26 - For I will pass through the land of Egypt this night, and will smite all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgment: I am the LORD.
Page 17 - Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers or mountains, in her spotty globe. His spear, — to equal which, the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand...
Page xxx - Six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments divine: the pair that clad Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast With regal ornament; the middle pair Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold And colours dipt in heaven ; the third his feet Shadowed from either heel with feathered mail, Sky-tinctured grain.
Page 63 - Far off the flying Fiend. At last appear Hell bounds high reaching to the horrid roof, And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were brass, Three iron, three of adamantine rock, Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire, Yet unconsumed.
Page 82 - Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or Sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief Thee, Sion, and the Flowery brooks beneath That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit...
Page xiv - Thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sovran vital lamp; but thou Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs, Or dim suffusion veil'd.
Page 15 - Is this the region, this the soil, the clime," Said then the lost Archangel, " this the seat That we must change for Heaven? — this mournful gloom For that celestial light ? Be...

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