Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe.

Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 1.

Or if Sion hill

Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flowed

Fast by the oracle of God.

Line 10.

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.

Line 16.

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,

Where peace

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all.

Line 65.

What though the field be lost?

All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield.

Line 105.

Doing or suffering.

To be weak is miserable,

1 But vindicate the ways of God to man.

Line 157.

Pope, Essay on Man, Ep. i. Line 16.

And out of good still to find means of evil.

Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 165.

Farewell happy fields,

Where joy for ever dwells: hail, horrors!

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Line 249

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.1 Line 253

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition, though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven. Line 261.

Heard so oft

In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battle.

His spear, to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand,
He walked with to support uneasy steps

Line 275

Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons

Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

1 Compare Book iv. Line 75.

Line 500.

The perial ensign, which, full high advanced,
Stone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.1
Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 536.

Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:

A which the universal host upsent

A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.

Ia perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood
Of dutes and soft recorders.

His form had yet not lost

Line 540.

Line 550.

All her original brightness, nor appeared

Less than archangel ruined, and the excess

Of glory obscured.

Line 591.

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds

On half the nations, and with fear of change

Perplexes monarchs.

Line 597.

Thrice he assayed, 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 e'en 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 enjoyed

In vision beatific.

Line 679.

Let none admire

That riches grow in hell: that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane.

1 Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air.

Line 690.

Gray, The Bard, i. 2, Line 6.

Anon out of the earth a fabric huge

Rose, like an exhalation. Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 710.

From morn

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropped from the zenith like a falling star.
Faëry elves,

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

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 raised

To that bad eminence.

Surer to prosper than prosperity

Could have assured us.

The strongest and the fiercest spirit

Line 742.

Line 781.

Book ii. Line 1.

Line 39.

That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair. Line 44.

Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.

Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 105.

But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
Dropped manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason, to perplex and dash

Maturest counsels.

Line 112.

The ethereal mould

Incapable of stain would soon expel

Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,
Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope
Is flat despair.

For who would lose,

Though full of pain, this intellectual being,

Those thoughts that wander through eternity,

To perish rather, swallowed up and lost

In the wide womb of uncreated night?

Ilis red right hand.1

Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved.

The never-ending flight

Of future days.

Our torments also may in length of time

Become our elements.

With grave

Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed

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

1 Rubente dextera. - Horace, Od. i. 2. 2.

Line 139.

Line 146.

Line 174.

Line 185.

Line 221.

Line 274.