No More Learning

HORACE, Ep. i. 16. 40.




[From The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates, 1649. ]


There can be slaine
No sacrifice to God more acceptable
Than an unjust and wicked king.
SENECA, Herc. Fur. 922.




[From History of Britain, 1670. ]


Brutus thus addresses Diana in the country of Leogecia.

Goddess of Shades, and Huntress, who at will
Walk'st on the rowling Sphear, and through the deep,
On thy third Reign the Earth look now, and tell
What Land, what Seat of rest thou bidst me seek,
What certain Seat, where I may worship thee
For aye, with Temples vow'd, and Virgin quires.

To whom sleeping before the altar, Diana in a Vision that night
thus answer'd.

Brutus far to the West, in th' Ocean wide
Beyond the Realm of Gaul, a Land there lies,
Sea-girt it lies, where Giants dwelt of old,
Now void, it fits thy People; thether bend
Thy course, there shalt thou find a lasting seat,
There to thy Sons another Troy shall rise,
And Kings be born of thee, whose dredded might
Shall aw the World, and conquer Nations bold.



Transcriber's Note: Title page of first (1667) edition of
Paradise Lost follows:


Paradise lost.
A
POEM
Written in
TEN BOOKS
By John Milton
------------------------------------------------------------
Licensed and Entred according
to Order
------------------------------------------------------------
LONDON.
Printed, and are to be sold by Peter Parker
under Creed Church neer Aldgate; And by
Robert Boulter at the Turk's head in Bishopsgate-street
And Matthias Walker, under St. Dunstan's Church
in Fleet-street, 1667.



Transcriber's Note: Title page of second (1674) edition of
Paradise Lost follows:


Paradise Lost.
A
POEM
IN
TWELVE BOOKS.
------------------------------------------------------------
The Author
JOHN MILTON.
------------------------------------------------------------
The Second Edition
Revised and Augmented by the
Same Author.
------------------------------------------------------------
LONDON.
Printed by S. Simmons next door to the
Golden Lion in Aldergate-street, 1674.




PARADISE LOST.




ON Paradise Lost.


WHEN I beheld the Poet blind, yet bold,
In slender Book his vast Design unfold,
Messiah Crown'd, Gods Reconcil'd Decree,
Rebelling Angels, the Forbidden Tree,
Heav'n, Hell, Earth, Chaos, All; the Argument
Held me a while misdoubting his Intent,
That he would ruine (for I saw him strong)
The sacred Truths to Fable and old Song
(So Sampson groap'd the Temples Posts in spight)
The World o'rewhelming to revenge his sight.

Yet as I read soon growing less severe,
I lik'd his Project, the success did fear;
Through that wide Field how he his way should find
O're which lame Faith leads Understanding blind;
Lest he perplex'd the things he would explain,
And what was easie he should render vain.

Or if a Work so infinite he spann'd,
Jealous I was that some less skilful hand
(Such as disquiet always what is well,
And by ill imitating would excell)
Might hence presume the whole Creations day
To change in Scenes, and show it in a Play.

Pardon me, Mighty Poet, nor despise
My causeless, yet not impious, surmise.