Related:

• These my sky-robes spun out of Iris' woof. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 83
• Budge doctors of the Stoic fur. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 707
• Fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 550
• Such sober certainty of waking bliss. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 263
• The star that bids the shepherd fold. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 93
• The unsunn'd heaps Of miser's treasure. -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 398
• I will tell you now What never yet was heard in tale or song, From old or modern bard, in hall or bower.
  -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 43...
• Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn, on th' Indian steep From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.
  -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 138...
• When the gray-hooded Even, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain.
  -- John Milton (1608-1674) -- Comus, Line 188...