Emotions and Feelings

Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell From heaven; for ev’n 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.

Thrice he assay’d, and thrice, in spite of scorn, Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.

Thrice he assay’d, and thrice, in spite of scorn, Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.

Who overcomes By force hath overcome but half his foe.

The sun… In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.

Care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage.

Awake, arise, or be forever fallen!

Awake, arise, or be forever fallen!

To reign is worth ambition though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heav’n.

The seat of desolation, void of light.

To be weak is miserable, Doing or suffering.

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all.

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all.

What though the field be lost? All is not lost; th’ unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.

What though the field be lost? All is not lost; th’ unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.

Him the Almighty Power Hurl’d headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky With hideous ruin and combustion down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.

Him the Almighty Power Hurl’d headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky With hideous ruin and combustion down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.

No light, but rather darkness visible.

The infernal serpent; he it was, whose guile, Stirr’d up with envy and revenge, deceiv’d The mother of mankind.

But oh! as to embrace me she inclin’d, I wak’d, she fled, and day brought back my night.

Methought I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave.

Yet I argue not Against Heav’n’s hand or will, nor bate one jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up, and steer Right onward.

Yet I argue not Against Heav’n’s hand or will, nor bate one jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up, and steer Right onward.

Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter’d saints, whose bones Lie scatter’d on the Alpine mountains cold; Ev’n them who kept thy truth so pure of old When all our fathers worshipp’d stocks and stones Forget not.