From 'Samson Agonistes' i
OH how comely it is and how reviving
To the Spirits of just men long opprest!
When God into the hands of thir deliverer
Puts invincible might
To quell the mighty of the Earth, th' oppressour,
The brute and boist'rous force of violent men
Hardy and industrious to support
Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue
The righteous and all such as honour Truth;
He all thir Ammunition
And feats of War defeats
With plain Heroic magnitude of mind
And celestial vigour arm'd,
Thir Armories and Magazins contemns,
Renders them useless, while
With winged expedition
Swift as the lightning glance he executes
His errand on the wicked, who surpris'd
Lose thir defence distracted and amaz'd.
ALL is best, though we oft doubt,
What th' unsearchable dispose
Of highest wisdom brings about,
And ever best found in the close.
Oft he seems to hide his face,
But unexpectedly returns
And to his faithful Champion hath in place
Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns
And all that band them to resist
His uncontroulable intent.
His servants he with new acquist
Of true experience from this great event
With peace and consolation hath dismist,
And calm of mind all passion spent.
O FOR some honest lover's ghost,
Some kind unbodied post
Sent from the shades below!
I strangely long to know
Whether the noble chaplets wear
Those that their mistress' scorn did bear
Or those that were used kindly.
For whatsoe'er they tell us here
To make those sufferings dear,
'Twill there, I fear, be found
That to the being crown'd
T' have loved alone will not suffice,
Unless we also have been wise
And have our loves enjoy'd.
What posture can we think him in
That, here unloved, again
Departs, and 's thither gone
Where each sits by his own?
Or how can that Elysium be
Where I my mistress still must see
Circled in other's arms?
For there the judges all are just,
And Sophonisba must
Be his whom she held dear,
Not his who loved her here.
The sweet Philoclea, since she died,
Lies by her Pirocles his side,
Not by Amphialus.
Some bays, perchance, or myrtle bough
For difference crowns the brow
Of those kind souls that were
The noble martyrs here:
And if that be the only odds
(As who can tell?), ye kinder gods,
Give me the woman here!
John Milton's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (From 'Samson Agonistes' i by John Milton )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 April 1918 – 27 February 2002)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928)
- A Child's Christmas in Wales, Dylan Thomas
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- The Saddest Poem, Pablo Neruda
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
- A Little While, Dante Gabriel Rossetti
- I Knew a Woman, Theodore Roethke
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If, Rudyard Kipling
Poem of the Day
- The Man, Victor Kretzie
- Again, Joseph Archer
- the business of cuisine, oskar hansen
- For You And I, Edward Kofi Louis
- Crucifixion of th' Soul..., Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
- Beware Of Mankind, Edward Kofi Louis
- Bigtha, Edward Kofi Louis
- Love Me Girl, Joseph Archer
- One Christmas Eve From The North..., Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
- Neryah, Edward Kofi Louis