John Milton on Memorial Day
1608–1674 England
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20 quotes
And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invoked.
A grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharg'd.
O fairest flower! no sooner blown but blasted,
Soft silken primrose fading timelessly.
Black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart.
Behind her Death
Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet
On his pale horse.
Death
Grinned horrible a ghastly smile, to hear
His famine should be filled.
I fled, and cried out Death;
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd
From all her caves, and back resounded Death.
Heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battle.
To overcome in battle, and subdue
Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite
Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch
Of human glory.
No war or battle sound
Was heard the world around.
Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air?
The History of England (1670)
Th' imperial ensign, which, full high advanc'd,
Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.
With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,
Seraphic arms and trophies.
Arms on armour clashing bray'd
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels
Of brazen chariots ray'd; dire was the noise
Of conflict.
So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell
Grew darker at their frown.
Others more mild,
Retreated in a silent valley, sing
With notes angelical to many a harp
Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall
By doom of battle.
Before mine eyes in opposition sits
Grim Death, my son and foe.
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,
And what is else not to be overcome.
No war, or battle's sound
Was heard the world around.
The idle spear and shield were high up hung.
On the Morning of Christ's Nativity (1629)
How gladly would I meet
Mortality my sentence, and be earth
Insensible! how glad would lay me down
As in my mother's lap!
The brandished sword of God before them blazed,
Fierce as a comet; which with torrid heat,
And vapour as the Libyan air adust,
Began to parch that temperate clime.
Paradise Lost (1667)