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.
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
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
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.
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
[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
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
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
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
What feign'd submission swore? ease would
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
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
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
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.
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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