John Milton

“ Will dare to soyl her Virgin purity;
Yea, there where very desolation dwels,
By grots and caverns shag’d with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblench’t majesty,
Be it not don in pride, or in presumption.
Som say, no evil thing that walks by night
In fog, or fire, by lake or moorish fen,
Blew meagre Hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost
That breaks his magick chains at curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,
Hath hurtfull power o’re true virginity. ”

“ Leans her unpillow’d head, fraught with sad fears:
What if in wild amazement and affright,
Or while we speak, within the direfull grasp
Of Savage hunger, or of Savage heat?
Elder Brother
Peace, brother, be not over-exquisite
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils;
For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid? ”

“ That wise Minerva wore, unconquer’d Virgin,
Wherwith she freez’d her foes to congeal’d stone,
But rigid looks of Chast austerity,
And noble grace that dash’t brute violence
With sudden adoration, and blank aw? ”