The Poetical Works of John Milton


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O miserable of happie! is this the end  
Of this new glorious World, and mee so late  
The Glory of that Glory, who now becom  
Accurst of blessed, hide me from the face  
Of God, whom to behold was then my highth  
Of happiness: yet well, if here would end  
The miserie, I deserv'd it, and would beare  
My own deservings; but this will not serve;  
All that I eate or drink, or shall beget,  
Is propagated curse. O voice once heard  
Delightfully, Encrease And Multiply,  
720  
730  
740  
Now death to heare! for what can I encrease  
Or multiplie, but curses on my head?  
Who of all Ages to succeed, but feeling  
The evil on him brought by me, will curse  
My Head, Ill fare our Ancestor impure,  
For this we may thank Adam; but his thanks  
Shall be the execration; so besides  
Mine own that bide upon me, all from mee  
Shall with a fierce reflux on mee redound,  
On mee as on thir natural center light  
Heavie, though in thir place. O fleeting joyes  
Of Paradise, deare bought with lasting woes!  
Did I request thee, Maker, from my Clay  
To mould me Man, did I sollicite thee  
From darkness to promote me, or here place  
550  


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548 549 550 551 552

Quick Jump
1 198 395 593 790