Paradise Lost: A Poem, in Twelve Books

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Clark, Austin, 1849 - Bible - 283 pages
 

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Page 107 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair : thyself how wondrous then, Unspeakable ! who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 16 - Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know'st ; thou from the first Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread, Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, And mad'st it pregnant : what in me is dark, Illumine ; what is low, raise and support; That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.
Page 96 - Whatever hypocrites austerely talk Of purity, and place, and innocence, Defaming as impure what God declares Pure, and commands to some, leaves free to all. Our Maker bids increase, who bids abstain But our destroyer, foe to God and man?
Page 16 - Sing, Heavenly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning how the Heavens and Earth Rose out of Chaos...
Page 167 - To ask or search, I blame thee not ; for heaven Is as the book of God before thee set, Wherein to read his wondrous works...
Page 272 - Henceforth, I learn that to obey is best, And love with fear the only God, to walk As in his presence, ever to observe His providence, and on him sole depend...
Page 207 - But such as, at this day, to Indians known; In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between...
Page 93 - 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
Page 249 - Dire was the tossing, deep the groans : Despair Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch ; And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invoked With vows, as their chief good, and final hope.
Page 107 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.

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