John Milton. (1608–1674). Complete Poems.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| To the Same |
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| (1655) |
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| CYRIACK, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear, | |
| To outward view, of blemish or of spot, | |
| Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; | |
| Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear | |
| Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, | 5 |
| Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not | |
| Against Heaven’s hand or will, nor bate a jot | |
| Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer | |
| Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? | |
| The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied | 10 |
| In liberty’s defence, my noble task, | |
| Of which all Europe rings from side to side. | |
| This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask | |
| Content, though blind, had I no better guide. | |
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