Author: John Milton
Quotes of Author: John Milton
Comus. The Star that bids the Shepherd fold,Now the top of Heav'n doth hold,And the gilded Car of Day, { 95 }His glowing Axle doth allayIn the steep Atlantick stream,And the slope Sun his upward beamShoots against the dusky Pole,Pacing toward the other gole { 100 }Of his Chamber in the East.Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast,Midnight shout, and revelry,Tipsie dance and Jollity.Braid your Locks with rosie Twine { 105 }Dropping odours, dropping Wine.Rigor now is gone to bed,And Advice with scrupulous head,Strict Age, and sowre Severity,With their grave Saws in slumber ly. { 110 }We that are of purer fireImitate the Starry Quire,Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,Lead in swift round the Months and Years.The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove { 115 }Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move,And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves;By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim, { 120 }Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:What hath night to do with sleep?Night hath better sweets to prove,Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love.Com let us our rights begin, { 125 }Tis onely day-light that makes Sin,Which these dun shades will ne're report.Hail Goddesse of Nocturnal sportDark vaild Cotytto, t' whom the secret flameOf mid-night Torches burns; mysterious Dame { 130 }That ne're art call'd, but when the Dragon woomOf Stygian darknes spets her thickest gloom,And makes one blot of all the ayr,Stay thy cloudy Ebon chair,Wherin thou rid'st with Hecat', and befriend { 135 }Us thy vow'd Priests, till utmost endOf all thy dues be done, and none left out,Ere the blabbing Eastern scout,The nice Morn on th' Indian steepFrom her cabin'd loop hole peep, { 140 }And to the tel-tale Sun discryOur conceal'd Solemnity.Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,In a light fantastick round. book-quoteWhom thus the Sin-born Monster answerd soon. To mee, who with eternal Famin pine, Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven, There best, where most with ravin I may meet; Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems To stuff this Maw, this vast unhide-bound Corps. To whom th' incestuous Mother thus repli'd. Thou therefore on these Herbs, and Fruits, & Flours Feed first, on each Beast next, and Fish, and Fowle, No homely morsels, and whatever thing The Sithe of Time mowes down, devour unspar'd, Till I in Man residing through the Race, His thoughts, his looks, words, actions all infect, And season him thy last and sweetest prey. book-quoteSuch as I seek, fit to participate All rational delight, wherein the brute Cannot be human consort; they rejoyce Each with thir kinde, Lion with Lioness; So fitly them in pairs thou hast combin'd; Much less can Bird with Beast, or Fish with Fowle So well converse, nor with the Ox the Ape; Wors then can Man with Beast, and least of all. Whereto th' Almighty answer'd, not displeas'd. A nice and suttle happiness I see Thou to thy self proposest, in the choice Of thy Associates, ADAM, and wilt taste No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitarie. What thinkst thou then of mee, and this my State, Seem I to thee sufficiently possest Of happiness, or not? who am alone From all Eternitie, for none I know Second to mee or like, equal much less. book-quoteThus began Outrage from liveless things; but Discord first Daughter of Sin, among th' irrational, Death introduc'd through fierce antipathie: Beast now with Beast gan war, & Fowle with Fowle, And Fish with Fish; to graze the Herb all leaving, Devourd each other; nor stood much in awe Of Man, but fled him, or with count'nance grim Glar'd on him passing: these were from without The growing miseries, which ADAM saw Alreadie in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, To sorrow abandond, but worse felt within, And in a troubl'd Sea of passion tost, Thus to disburd'n sought with sad complaint. book-quoteThou therefore on these Herbs, and Fruits, and Flow'rsFeed first, on each Beast next, and Fish, and Fowl, No homely morsels, and whatever thingThe Scyth of Time mows down, devour unspar'd, Till I in Man residing through the Race, His thoughts, his looks, words, actions all infect, And season him thy last and sweetest prey. book-quote
