Sonnet 15
XV On The Late Massacher In Piemont Avenge O lord thy slaughter’d Saints, whose bones Lie scatter’d on the Alpine mountains cold, Ev’n them who kept thy truth so pure of old When all
Il Penseroso
Hence, vain deluding Joys, …………The brood of Folly without father bred! How little you bested …………Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, …………And fancies fond with gaudy
Psalm 83
Be not thou silent now at length O God hold not thy peace, Sit not thou still O God of strength We cry and do not cease. For lo thy furious foes now *swell
Paradise Lost: Book 05
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapours bland,
Paradise Lost: Book 12
As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel paused Betwixt the world destroyed and world restored, If Adam aught perhaps might interpose; Then, with transition
Psalm 01
Done into Verse, 1653. Bless’d is the man who hath not walk’d astray In counsel of the wicked, and ith’way Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat Of scorners hath not sate.
Paradise Lost: Book 10
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve, Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit, Was known in Heaven; for
Sonnet 03: Canzone
Ridonsi donne e giovani amorosi M’ occostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi, Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana Verseggiando d’amor, e conie t’osi? Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana E de
Psalm 88
Lord God that dost me save and keep, All day to thee I cry; And all night long, before thee weep Before thee prostrate lie. Into thy presence let my praier With sighs devout
Paradise Lost: Book 04
O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud, Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, Came furious down to be revenged on men, Woe to
To Mr. Cyriack Skinner Upon His Blindness
Cyriack, this three years day these eys, though clear To outward view, of blemish or of spot; Bereft of light thir seeing have forgot, Nor to thir idle orbs doth sight appear Of Sun
L'Allegro
Hence, loathed Melancholy, …………Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn …………’Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights Unholy! Find out some uncouth cell, …………Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And
Sonnet 06
VI Giovane piano, e semplicetto amante Poi che fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono, Madonna a voi del mio cuor l’humil dono Faro divoto; io certo a prove tante L’hebbi fedele, intrepido, costante, De
Sonnet 21
XXI Cyriac, 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; Today deep thoughts
On Shakespear
What needs my Shakespear for his honour’d Bones, The labour of an age in piled Stones, Or that his hallow’d reliques should be hid Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir