More from John Milton

  1. What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labor of an age in piled stones, Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a st…
  2. And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
  3. How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year.
  4. Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If ever deed of honour did thee please, Guard the…
  5. The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground.
  6. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
  7. Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof.
  8. The lazy leaden-stepping Hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace.

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