“
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,Without all hope of day!
— Samson Agonistes
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,Without all hope of day!
The sun to me is darkHid in her vacant interlunar cave.
To live a life half dead, a living death.
Ran on embattled armies clad in iron,Made arms ridiculous.
Apt words have power to suageThe tumors of a troubled mind.
Wisest menHave erred, and by bad women been deceived.
Just are the ways of God, Unless there be who think not God at all.
What boots it at one gate to make defense,And at another to let in the foe?
My race of glory run, and race of shame,And I shall shortly be with them at rest.
But who is this, what thing of sea or land?Her harbinger?
Dalila: In argument with men a woman everSamson: For want of words, no doubt, or lack of breath!
Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouthed,Bears greatest names in his wild airy flight.
Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power,Love once possessed.
Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end;Not wedlock-treachery.
The way to know were not to see, but taste.
Boast not of what thou would'st have done, but doWhat then thou would'st.
He’s gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
For evil news rides post, while good news baits.
Suspense in news is torture.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wailAnd what may quiet us in a death so noble.
All is best, though we oft doubt,Of highest Wisdom brings about.
