John Milton Quotes on War & Peace (15 Quotes)

The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar, All now was turned to jollity and game, To luxury and riot, feast and dance.

Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason's garb, counseled ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, not peace.

My sentence is for open war.

Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.

Who, if we knew
What we receive, would either no accept
Life offered, or soon beg to lay it down;
Glad to be so dismissed in peace.

This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heavens eternal King, Of wedded maid, and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring For so the holy sages once did sing, That He our deadly forfeit should release, And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.

Peace hath her victories No less renowned than war.

Heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge Of battle.

For what can war, but endless war, still breed?

But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began. The winds with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kiss, Whispering new joys to the mild Ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. The stars, with deep amaze, Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warmed them thence But in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. And, though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new-enlightened world no more should need He saw a greater Sun appear Than his bright throne or burning axeltree could bear.

Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old, Than whom a better senator ne'er held The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled The fierce Epirot and the African bold, Whether to settle peace, or to unfold The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled, Then to advise how war may, best upheld, Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, In all her equipage besides to know Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, What severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done The bounds of either sword to thee we owe Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.

Incens'd with indignation Satan stood Unterrify'd, and like a comet burn'd That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war.

Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air.

Peace has her victories which are no less renowned than war.

The brazen throat of war.