John Milton on Religion
1608–1674 England
← All quotes by John Milton
19 quotes
The greatest burden in the world is superstition, not only of ceremonies in the church, but of imaginary and scarecrow sins at home.
Though to recount almighty works
What words of tongue or seraph can suffice,
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend?
Though in heav'n the trees
Of life ambrosial fruitage bear, and vines
Yield nectar.
Open, ye heavens, your living doors; let in
The great Creator from his work return'd
Magnificent, his six days' work, a world!
He of their wicked ways
Shall them admonish, and before them set
The paths of righteousness.
Law can discover sin, but not remove,
Save by those shadowy expiations weak.
On a sudden open fly
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound
Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder.
Long is the way
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.
Heaven open'd wide
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound
On golden hinges moving.
The gates that now
Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame
Far into Chaos, since the fiend pass'd through.
When the scourge
Inexorable, and the torturing hour
Calls us to penance.
So clomb the first grand thief into God's fold;
So since into his church lewd hirelings climb.
It were a journey like the path to heaven,
To help you find them.
Comus (1637)
What cause
Moved the Creator in his holy rest
Through all eternity so late to build
In chaos, and, the work begun, how soon
Absolved.
Myself am Hell;
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep,
Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide;
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
So many laws argues so many sins.
Her rash hand in evil hour
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat;
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat
Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe
That all was lost.
The hasty multitude
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise,
And some the architect: his hand was known
In heaven by many a tower'd structure high,
Where scepter'd angels held their residence,
And sat as princes.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace, flamed; yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end.