Paradise Lost: A Poem in Twelve Books

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T. Bedlington, 1826 - 294 páginas
 

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LibraryThing Review

Crítica de los usuarios  - 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. Leer comentario completo

LibraryThing Review

Crítica de los usuarios  - 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 ... Leer comentario completo

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Página 107 - 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.
Página 91 - 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
Página 32 - A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat, and public care; And princely counsel in his face yet shone Majestic, though in ruin: sage he stood, "With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look Drew audience and attention still as night, Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake: " Thrones, and imperial powers, offspring of heaven, Ethereal virtues!
Página 54 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Página 4 - OF man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, Sing, heavenly Muse...
Página 91 - With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of Heaven her starry train : But neither breath of Morn when she ascends With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising sun On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew ; nor fragrance, after showers ; Nor grateful evening mild ; nor silent Night, With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
Página 12 - He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore ; his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast ; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb 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.
Página 49 - 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.
Página 80 - Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, Which from his darksome passage now appears : And now, divided into four main streams, Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm And country...
Página 12 - Over the burning marie, not like those steps On heaven's azure ; and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.

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