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Of battle when it rag'd, in all assaults
Their surest signal, they will soon resume
New courage, and revive; though now they lie
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,
As we ere while, astounded and amaz'd;
No wonder, fall'n such a pernicious height.
He scarce had ceas'd, when the superior
Fiend

Yet to their General's voice they soon obey'd, Innumerable. As when the potent rod Of Amram's son, in Egypt's evil day, Wav'd round the coast, up call'd a pitchy cloud Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind, That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung Like night, and darken'd all the land of Nile: [shield, So numberless were those bad angels seen, Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell, "Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires; Till, at a signal giv'n, th' uplifted spear Of their great Sultan waving to direct Their course, in even balance down they light On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain; A multitude, like which the populous North Pour'd never from her frozen loins, to pass Rhene or the Danaw, when her barb'rous sons Came like a deluge on the South, and spread Beneath Gibraltar to the Lybian sands.

Was moving tow'rd the shore; his pond'rous
Ethereal temper, massy, large and round,
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose
orb

Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers or mountains on her spotty globe.
His spear, to equal which the tallest pine,
Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast
Of some great admiral, were but a wand,
He walk'd with to support uneasy steps.
Over the burning marle, not like those steps
On Heaven's azure; and the torrid clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire;
Nathless he so endur'd, till on the beach
Of that inflamed sea he stood, and call'd
His legions, angel forms, who lay entranc'd
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades
High over-arch'd embow'r; or scatter'd sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd
Hath vex'd the Red Sea coast, whose waves
o'erthrew

Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued
The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the safe shore their floating carcasses
And broken chariot wheels: so thick bestrown,
Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood,
Under amazement of their hideous change.
He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded. Princes, Potentates,
Warriors, the flow'r of Heav'n, once yours,'
now lost,

If such astonishment as this can seize
Eternal spirits; or have you chosen this place,
After the toil of battle, to repose

Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heav'n?
Or in this abject posture have you sworn
To adore the Conqueror? who now beholds
Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood
With scatter'd arms and ensigns, till anon
His swift pursuers from Heav'n gates discern
Th' advantage, and descending tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf.
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen! [sprung
They heard, and were abash'd; and up they
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight,
In which they were, or the fierce pains not
feel;

| Forthwith from every squadron and each band
The heads and leaders thither haste, where
stood
[forms

Their great Commander; godlike shapes and
Excelling human, princely dignities, [thrones;
And powers that erst in Heaven sat on
Though of their names in heav'nly records
Be no memorial, blotted out and ras'd [now
By their rebellion from the books of Life.
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve
Got them new names, till wand'ring o'er the
earth,
[of man,
Through God's high suff'rance for the trial
By falsities and lies the greatest part
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake
God their Creator, and th' invisible
Glory of him that made them to transform
Oft to the image of a brute, adorn'd
With gay religions full of pomp and gold,
And devils to adore for deities;
Then were they known to men by various
And various idols through the heathen world.
§3. Satan marshals the fallen Angels.

[names,

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Not in despair, to have found themselves not In loss itself; which on his countenance cast Like doubtful hue: but he his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words that bore Semblance of worth, not substance, gently rais'd [fears.

Their fainting courage, and dispell'd their Then strait commands, that at the warlike sound

Of trumpets loud and clarions be uprear'd
His mighty standard; that proud honor claim'd
Azazel as his right, a cherub tall; [furl'd
Who forthwith from the glittering staff un-
Th' imperial ensign, which full high advanc'd
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind,
With gems and golden lustre rich emblaz'd,

Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
At which the universal host up sent

A shout that tore Hell's concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
All in a moment through the gloom were seen
Ten thousand banners rise into the air
With orient colors waving with them rose
A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms
Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array
Of depth immeasurable: anon they move
In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood
Of flutes and soft recorders: such as rais'd
To height of noblest temper heroes old
Arming to battle; and instead of rage
Deliberate valor breath'd, firm and unmov'd·
With dread of death to flight or foul retreat;
Nor wanting pow'r to mitigate and swage
With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and
chase
[pain,
Anguish and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and
From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they,
Breathing united force, with fixed thought
Mov'd on in silence to soft pipes that charm'd
Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil; and

now

Advanc'd in view, they stand, a horrid front
Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise
Of warriors old with order'd spear and shield,
Awaiting what command their mighty chief
Had to impose; he through the armed files
Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse
The whole battalion views, their order due,
Their visages and stature, as of Gods;
Their number last he sums. And now his
heart
[strength
Distends with pride, and hard'ning in his
Glories for never since created man
Met such embodied force, as nam'd with these
Could merit more than that small infantry
Warr'd on by cranes; though all the giant
brood

Of Phlegra with th' heroic race were join'd
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side
Mix'd with auxiliar Gods; and what resounds
In fable or romance of Uther's son,
Begirt with British and Armoric knights;
And all who since, baptiz'd or infidel,
Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,
Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond,
Or whom Biserta sent from Afric's shore,
When Charlemain, with all his peerage,
fell
By Fontarabia. Thus far these beyond
Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ'd
Their dread commander: he above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent,
Stood like a tower; his form had not yet lost
All her original brightness, nor appear'd
Less than Arch-angel ruin'd, and th' excess
Of glory obscur'd; as when the sun new risen
Looks through the horizontal misty air
Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon
In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone

Above them all th' Arch-angel; but his face
Deep scars of thunder had entrench'd, and care
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows
Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride
Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but cast
Signs of remorse and passion to behold
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather
(Far other once beheld in bliss) condemn'd
For ever now to have their lot in pain,
Millions of spirits for his fault amerc'd
Of Heav'n, and from eternal splendors flung'
For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory wither'd: as when Heaven's fire
Hath scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain
pines,
[bare,
With singed top their stately growth, though
Stands on the blasted heath. He now pre-
par'd
[bend

To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they
From wing to wing, and half inclose him round
With all his peers: attention held them mute.
Thrice he essay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn,
Tears such as angels weep, burst forth at last
Words, interwove with sighs, found out their
way.

O myriads of immortal spirits! O powers Matchless, but with th' Almighty, and that

strife

Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire,
As this place testifies, and this dire change,
Hateful to utter but what pow'r of mind
Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth
Of knowledge past or present, could have
fear'd,

How such united force of Gods, how such
As stood like these, could ever know repulse?
For who can yet believe, though after loss,
That all these puissant legions, whose exile
Hath emptied Heav'n, shall fail to re-ascend,
Self-raised, and repossess their native seat?
For me be witness all the host of Heaven,
If counsels different, or danger shunn'd
By me, have lost our hopes. But he who
reigns

Monarch in Heav'n, till then as one secure
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute,
Consent or custom, and his regal state [ceal'd,
Put forth at full; but still his strength con-
Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our
fall.
[own,
Henceforth his might we know, and know our
So as not either to provoke, or dread
New war, provok'd; our better part remains
To work in close design, by fraud or guile,
What force effected not; that he no less
At length from us may find, who overcomes
By force, hath overcome but half his foe. [rife
Space may produce new worlds; whereof so
There went a fame in Heav'n, that he ere long
Intended to create, and therein plant
A generation, whom his choice regard
Should favor equal to the sons of Heav'n :
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:
For this infernal pit shall never hold

Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid

Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss
Long under darkness cover. But these With golden architrave; nor did there want
thoughts
Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven;
Full council must mature peace is despair'd, The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon,
For who can think submission? War then, Nor great Alcairo such magnificence
Open or understood, must be resolv'd. [war, Equall'd in all their glories, to enshrine
He spake and to confirm his words, out Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat
flew
[thighs Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove
Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the In wealth and luxury. Th' ascending pile
Of mighty cherubim; the sudden blaze Stood fix'd her stately height, and straight the
Far round illumin'd Hell: highly they rag'd
Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped
[war,
Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of
Hurling defiance tow'rd the vault of Heav'n.

arms

4. Pandemonium. MILTON.
THERE stood a hill not far, whose grisly top
Belch'd fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire
Shone with a glossy scurf, undoubted sign
That in his womb was hid metallic ore,
The work of sulphur. Thither wing'd with
speed

A numerous brigade hasten'd: as when bands
Of pioneers, with spade and pick-axe arm'd,
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field,
Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on,
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell
From Heav'n, for ev'n in Heav'n his looks and
thoughts

Were always downward bent, admiring more
The riches of Heav'n's pavement, trodden gold,
Than aught divine, or holy else enjoy'd
In vision beatific: by him first
Men also, and by his suggestion taught,
Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands
Rifled the bowels of their mother Earth
For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew
Open'd into the hill a spacious wound,
And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire
That riches grow in Hell; that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane. And here let

those

[tell
Who boast in mortal things, and wond'ring
Of Babel, and the works of Memphian kings,
Learn how their greatest monuments of fame
And strength and art are easily out-done
By spirits reprobate, and in an hour
What in an age they with incessant toil,
And hands innumerable scarce perform.
Nigh on the plain in many cells prepar'd,
That underneath had veins of liquid fire
Sluic'd from the lake, a second multitude
With wondrous art founded the massy ore,
Sev'ring each kind, and scumm'd the bullion
dross ;

A third as soon had form'd within the ground
A various mould, and from the boiling cells,
By strange conveyance, fill'd each hollow nook,
As in an organ from one blast of wind
To many a row of pipes the sound-board
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge [breathes.
Rose like an exhalation, with the sound
Of duicet symphonies and voices sweet,
Built like a temple, where pilasters round

doors

Opening their brazen folds, discover wide
Within her ample spaces o'er the smooth
And level pavement: from the arched roof
Pendent by subtle magic, many a row
Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded light
As from a sky. The hasty multitude
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise,
And some the Architect: his hand was known
In Heav'n by many a towered structure high,
Where scepter'd angels held their residence,
And sat as princes, whom the supreme King
Exalted to such power, and gave to rule,
Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright.
Nor was his name unheard or unador'd
In ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land
Men call'd him Mulciber; and how he fell
From Heav'n they fabled, thrown by angry
Jove

Sheer o'er the crystal battlements: from morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropt from the zenith, like a falling star,
On Lemnos th' Egean isle: thus they relate,
Erring; for he with this rebellious rout
Fell long before; nor aught avail'd him now
T' have built in Heav'n high tow'rs; nor did
he 'scape

By all his engines, but was headlong sent,
With his industrious crew, to build in hell.

§ 5. Address to Light. MILTON.
HAIL holy Light, offspring of Heav'n first
Or of th' eternal coeternal beam, [born,
May I express thee, unblam'd? Since God is
And never but in unapproached light [light,
Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate.
Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream,
Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun,
Before the Heav'ns thou wert, and at the voice
Of God, as with a mantle didst invest
The rising world of waters dark and deep,
Won from the void and formless infinite.
Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,
Escap'd the Stygian pool, though long detain'd
In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight
Through utter and through middle darkness

borne

With other notes than to th' Orphean lyre
I sung of Chaos and eternal Night,
Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down
The dark descent, and up to reascend
Through hard and rare; thee I revisit safe,

And feel thy sov'reign vital lamp; but thou
Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their
orbs,

Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more
Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt,
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,
Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief
Thee, Sion, and the flow'ry brooks beneath,
That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling
Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget [flow,
Those other two equall'd with me in fate,
So were I equall'd with them in renown,
Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides,
And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old:
Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers, as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of Knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank

Lyear

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Ah wherefore! he deserv'd no such return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
What could be less than to afford him praise,
The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,
How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high,
I disdain'd subjection, and thought one step
higher

Would set me high'st, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome still paying, still to owe,
Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd,
And understood not that a grateful mind

|By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharg'd; what burden then?
O had his pow'rful destiny ordain'd
Me some inferior Angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd
Ambition. Yet, why not? some other power
As great might have aspir'd, and me, though
mean,

Drawn to his part; but other pow'rs as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
Hadst thou the same free will and pow'r to
stand?
[t' accuse,

Thou hadst; whom hast thou then, or what,
But Heav'n's free love dealt equally to all?
Be then his love accurs'd, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a Heav'n.
O then at last relent: is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the Sp'rits beneath, whom I seduc'd
With other promises and other vaunts
Than to submit, boasting I could subdue
Th' Omnipotent. Ah me, they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the throne of hell,
With diadem and sceptre high advanc'd,
The lower stil I fall, only supreme
In misery; such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent, and could obtain
By act of grace my former state; how soon
Would height recal high thoughts, how soon

unsay

What feign'd submission swore? ease would

recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so
deep;

Which would but lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.
This knows my punisher; therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging peace
All hope excluded thus, behold instead
Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight,
Mankind created, and for him this world.
So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,
Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost;
Evil be thou my good; by thee at least
Divided empire with Heav'n's King I hold,
By thee, and more than half perhaps will

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So on he fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her inclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champain head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,
Access deny'd; and over-head up grew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
sylvan scene; and as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verd'rous wall of Paradise up sprung:
Which to our general sire gave prospect large
Into his nether empire neighb'ring round.
And higher than that wall a circling row
Of goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit,
Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,
Appear'd, with gay enamel'd colors mix'd:
On which the sun more glad impress'd his

beams

Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,

As I bent down to look, just opposite
A shape within the wat'ry gleam appear'd,
Bending to look on me: I started back,
It started back; but pleas'd I soon return'd;
Pleas'd it return'd as soon, with answ'ring
looks

Of sympathy and love; there I had fix'd
Mine
eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire,
Had not a voice thus warn'd me: What thou
seest,

What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;
With thee it came and goes: but follow me,
And I will bring thee where no shadow stays
Thy coming and thy soft embraces, he
Whose image thou art; him thou shalt enjoy
Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear
Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd
Mother of human race. What could I do,

But follow strait, invisibly thus led ?
Till I espied thee, fair indeed and tall,
Under a platane; yet methought less fair,
Less winning soft, less amiably mild,
Than that smooth wat'ry image : back I turn'd;
Thou following criedst aloud, Return, fair
Eve;
[thou art,

When God hath show'r'd the earth; so lovely Whom fly'st thou ? whom thou fly'st, of him

seem'd

stole

That landskip: and of pure, now purer air
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
Vernal delight and joy, able to drive
All sadness but despair: now gentle gales,
Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they
[sail
Those balmy spoils. As when to them who
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow
Sabean odors from the spicy shore
Of Araby the blest; with such delay
Well pleas'd they slack their course, and
many a league,
[smiles.
Cheer'd with the grateful smell, old Ocean
§ 8. Eve's Account of herself. MILTON.
To whom thus Eve replied. O thou for
whom

And from whom I was form'd, flesh of thy flesh,
And without whom am to no end, my guide
And head, what thou hast said is just and
For we to him indeed all praises owe, [right:
And daily thanks; I chiefly, who enjoy
So far the happier lot, enjoying thee
Pre-eminent by so much odds, while thou
Like consort to thyself canst no where find.
That day I oft remember, when from sleep
I first awak'd, and found myself repos'd
Under a shade on flow'rs, much wond'ring
[and how
And what I was; whence thither brought,
Not distant far from thence a murm'ring sound
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmov'd
Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went
With unexperienc'd thought, and laid me down
On the green bank, to look into the clear
Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky.

where

His flesh, his bone; to give thee being, I lent
Substantial life, to have thee by my side
Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart,
Henceforth an individual solace dear;
Part of my soul I seek thee, and thee claim
Seiz'd mine; I yielded, and from that time see
My other half; with that thy gentle hand
How beauty is excell'd by manly grace
And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.

So spake our general mother, and with eyes
Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd,
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd
On our first father; half her swelling breast
Naked met his under the flowing gold
Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight
Both of her beauty and submissive charms
Smil'd with superior love, as Jupiter
On Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds
That shed May flow'rs; and press'd her matron
With kisses pure.
[lip

§ 9. Adam's Account of himself. MILTON
As new wak'd from soundest sleep
Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid
In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun
Soon dry'd, and on the reeking moisture fed.
Strait toward Heav'n my wond'ring eyes I
turn'd,

And gaz'd a while the ample sky, till rais'd
By quick instinctive motion up I sprung,
As thitherward endeavoring, and upright
Stood on my feet; about me round I saw
Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains
And liquid lapse of murm'ring streams; by
these,
[flew,

Creatures that liv'd and mov'd, and walk'd, or
Birds on the branches warbling; all things
smil'd,
[flow'd.

With fragrance and with joy my heart o'er

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