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Anon they move
In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood
Of flutes and soft recorders. Paradise Lost. Book i, Line 549.

His form had yet not lost
All her original brightness, nor appear’d
Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess
Of glory obscurd.

Line 591.
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs.

Line 597.
Thrice he assay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn
Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.

Line 619.

Who overcomes
By force, hath overcome but half his foe.

Line 648.
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell
From heaven; for ev'n in heaven his looks and thoughts
Were always downward bent, admiring more
The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold,
Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd
In vision beatific.

Line 679.

Let none admire
That riches grow in hell: that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane.

Line 690.
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge
Rose, like an exhalation.

Line 710.
From morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A suammer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star. Line 742.

Fairy elves,
Whose midnight revels by a forest side
Or fountain some belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon
Sits arbitress.

Line 781.

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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,
Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd
To that bad eminence.

Paradise Lost. Book ö. Line 1
Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assur'd us.

Line 39. The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair. Line 44.

Rather than be less, Car'd not to be at all.

Line 47. My sentence is for open war.

Line 51. That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse.

Line 75.

Line 90.

Line 105.

When the scourge
Inexorable and the torturing hour
Call us to penance.
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason,' to perplex and dash
Maturest counsels.

Th' ethereal mould
Incapable of stain would soon expel
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
Is flat despair.

Line 112.

Line 139.

1 Aristophanes turns Socrates into ridicule ... as making the worse appear the better reason. - DIOGENES LAERTIUS: Socrates, .

2. Our hope is loss, our hope but sad despair. - SHAKESPEARE : Benry VI. part iii. act ii. sc. 3.

For who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night?

Paradise Lost. Book ii, Line 146.
His red right hand.

Line 174.
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd.

Line 185.
The never-ending flight
Of future days.

Line 221.
Our torments also may in length of time
Become our elements.

Line 274.

With grave


Line 300.

Line 406.

Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd
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,
p Vith Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
Drew audience and attention still as night
Or summer's noontide air.
The palpable obscure.

Long is the way
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.
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.

Line 432.

Line 476.

Line 490.

Line 496

1 Rubente dextera. - HORACE : Ode i. 2, 2.

In discourse more sweet;
For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense.
Others apart sat on a hill retird,
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.

Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 555. Vain wisdom all and false philosophy.

Line 565 Arm th' obdur'd breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel. Line 568. 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 hald, 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. Line 592. O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.

Line 620. Gorgons and Hydras and Chimæras dire.

Line 628 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.

Line 666

Whence and what art thou, execrable shape ?

Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 681.

Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings. Line 699. So spake the grisly Terror.

Line 704 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.

Line 707. Their fatal hands No second stroke intend.

Line 712. Hell Grew darker at their frown.

Line 719. I fled, and cry'd out, DEATH! Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh’d From all her caves, and back resounded, Death!

Line 787. I Sefore mine eyes in opposition sits trim Death, my son and foe.

Line 803

Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill’d.

Line 845 On a sudden open fly, With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, Th’ infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.

Line 879. 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.

Line 894 Into this wild abyss, The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave.

Line 910

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