Book i. Line 619.

Thrice he essayed, and thrice, in spite of scorn,
Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.

Book i. Line 742.

From morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day.

Book ii. Line 113.

But all was false and hollow, though his tongue
Dropped manna; and could make the worse appear
The better reason, to perplex and dash
Maturest counsels.

Book ii. Line 300.

With grave
Aspéct he rose, and in his rising seemed
A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven
Deliberation sat and public care.

Book ii. Line 306.

With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies: his look
Drew audience and attention still as night
Or summer's noontide air.