|John Bartlett (18201905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.|
|John Milton. (16081674) (continued)|
| I walk unseen|
On the dry smooth-shaven green,
To behold the wandering moon
Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led astray
Through the heavns wide pathless way;
And oft, as if her head she bowd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
| Il Penseroso. Line 65.|
| Where glowing embers through the room|
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
| Il Penseroso. Line 79.|
| Far from all resort of mirth|
Save the cricket on the hearth.
| Il Penseroso. Line 81.|
| Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy|
In sceptred pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops line,
Or the tale of Troy divine.
| Il Penseroso. Line 97.|
| Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing|
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Plutos cheek.
| Il Penseroso. Line 105.|
| Or call up him that left half told|
The story of Cambuscan bold.
| Il Penseroso. Line 109.|
| Where more is meant than meets the ear.|
| Il Penseroso. Line 120.|
| When the gust hath blown his fill,|
Ending on the rustling leaves
With minute drops from off the eaves.
| Il Penseroso. Line 128.|
| Hide me from days garish eye.|
| Il Penseroso. Line 141.|
| And storied windows richly dight,|
Casting a dim religious light.
| Il Penseroso. Line 159.|
| Till old experience do attain|
To something like prophetic strain.
| Il Penseroso. Line 173.|
| Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.|
| Arcades. Line 68.|
| Under the shady roof|
Of branching elm star-proof.
| Arcades. Line 88.|