| |
| HIGH on a throne of royal state, which far | |
| Outshon the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, | |
| Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand | |
| Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, | |
| Satan exalted sat, by merit raised | 5 |
| To that bad eminence; and, from despair | |
| Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires | |
| Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue | |
| Vain war with Heaven; and, by success untaught, | |
| His proud imaginations thus displayed:— | 10 |
| “Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven!— | |
| For, since no deep within her gulf can hold | |
| Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen, | |
| I give not Heaven for lost: from this descent | |
| Celestial Virtues rising will appear | 15 |
| More glorious and more dread than from no fall, | |
| And trust themselves to fear no second fate!— | |
| Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven, | |
| Did first create your leader—next, free choice, | |
| With what besides in council or in fight | 20 |
| Hath been achieved of merit—yet this loss, | |
| Thus far at least recovered, hath much more | |
| Established in a safe, unenvied throne, | |
| Yielded with full consent. The happier state | |
| In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw | 25 |
| Envy from each inferior; but who here | |
| Will envy whom the highest place exposes | |
| Foremost to stand against the Thunderer’s aim | |
| Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share | |
| Of endless pain? Where there is, then, no good | 30 |
| For which to strive, no strife can grow up there | |
| From faction: for none sure will claim in Hell | |
| Precedence; none whose portion is so small | |
| Of present pain that with ambitious mind | |
| Will covet more! With this advantage, then, | 35 |
| To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, | |
| More than can be in Heaven, we now return | |
| To claim our just inheritance of old, | |
| Surer to prosper than prosperity | |
| Could have assured us; and by what best way, | 40 |
| Whether of open war or covert guile, | |
| We now debate. Who can advise may speak.” | |
| He ceased; and next him Moloch, sceptred king, | |
| Stood up—the strongest and the fiercest Spirit | |
| That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair. | 45 |
| His trust was with the Eternal to be deemed | |
| Equal in strength, and rather than be less | |
| Cared not to be at all; with that care lost | |
| Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse, | |
| He recked not, and these words thereafter spake:— | 50 |
| “My sentence is for open war. Of wiles, | |
| More unexpert, I boast not: them let those | |
| Contrive who need, or when they need; not now. | |
| For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest— | |
| Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait | 55 |
| The signal to ascend—sit lingering here, | |
| Heaven’s fugitives, and for their dwelling-place | |
| Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, | |
| The prison of His tyranny who reigns | |
| By our delay? No! let us rather choose, | 60 |
| Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once | |
| O’er Heaven’s high towers to force resistless way, | |
| Turning our tortures into horrid arms | |
| Against the torturer; when, to meet the noise | |
| Of his almighty engine, he shall hear | 65 |
| Infernal thunder, and, for lightning, see | |
| Black fire and horror shot with equal rage | |
| Among his Angels and his throne itself | |
| Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, | |
| His own invented torments. But perhaps | 70 |
| The way seems difficult, and steep to scale | |
| With upright wing against a higher foe! | |
| Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench | |
| Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, | |
| That in our proper motion we ascend | 75 |
| Up to our native seat; descent and fall | |
| To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, | |
| When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear | |
| Insulting, and pursued us through the Deep, | |
| With what compulsion and laborious flight | 80 |
| We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy, then; | |
| The event is feared! Should we again provoke | |
| Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find | |
| To our destruction, if there be in Hell | |
| Fear to be worse destroyed! What can be worse | 85 |
| Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned | |
| In this abhorred deep to utter woe; | |
| Where pain of unextinguishable fire | |
| Must exercise us without hope of end | |
| The vassals of his anger, when the scourge | 90 |
| Inexorably, and the torturing hour, | |
| Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus, | |
| We should be quite abolished, and expire. | |
| What fear we then? what doubt we to incense | |
| His utmost ire? which, to the highth enraged, | 95 |
| Will either quite consume us, and reduce | |
| To nothing this essential—happier far | |
| Than miserable to have eternal being!— | |
| Or, if our substance be indeed Divine, | |
| And cannot cease to be, we are at worst | 100 |
| On this side nothing; and by proof we feel | |
| Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven, | |
| And with perpetual inroads to alarm, | |
| Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne: | |
| Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.” | 105 |
| He ended frowning, and his look denounced | |
| Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous | |
| To less than gods. On the other side up rose | |
| Belial, in act more graceful and humane. | |
| A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seemed | 110 |
| For dignity composed, and high exploit. | |
| But all was false and hollow, though his tongue | |
| Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear | |
| The better reason, to perplex and dash | |
| Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low— | 115 |
| To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds | |
| Timorous and slothful. Yet he pleased the ear, | |
| And with persuasive accent thus began:— | |
| “I should be much for open war, O Peers, | |
| As not behind in hate, if what was urged | 120 |
| Main reason to persuade immediate war | |
| Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast | |
| Ominous conjecture on the whole success; | |
| When he who most excels in fact of arms, | |
| In what he counsels and in what excels | 125 |
| Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair | |
| And utter dissolution, as the scope | |
| Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. | |
| First, what revenge? The towers of Heaven are filled | |
| With armèd watch, that render all access | 130 |
| Impregnable: oft on the bordering Deep | |
| Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing | |
| Scout far and wide into the realm of Night, | |
| Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way | |
| By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise | 135 |
| With blackest insurrection to confound | |
| Heaven’s purest light, yet our great Enemy, | |
| All incorruptible, would on his throne | |
| Sit unpolluted, and the ethereal mould, | |
| Incapable of stain, would soon expel | 140 |
| Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, | |
| Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope | |
| Is flat despair: we must exasperate | |
| The Almighty Victor to spend all his rage: | |
| And that must end us; that must be our cure— | 145 |
| To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lose, | |
| Though full of pain, this intellectual being, | |
| Those thoughts that wander through eternity, | |
| To perish rather, swallowed up and lost | |
| In the wide womb of uncreated Night, | 150 |
| Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows, | |
| Let this be good, whether our angry Foe | |
| Can give it, or will ever? How he can | |
| Is doubtful; that he never will is sure. | |
| Will He, so wise, let loose at once his ire, | 155 |
| Belike through impotence or unaware, | |
| To give his enemies their wish, and end | |
| Them in his anger whom his anger saves | |
| To punish endless? ‘Wherefore cease we, then?’ | |
| Say they who counsel war; ‘we are decreed, | 160 |
| Reserved, and destined to eternal woe; | |
| Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, | |
| What can we suffer worse?’ Is this, then, worst— | |
| Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? | |
| What when we fled amain, pursued and strook | 165 |
| With Heaven’s afflicting thunder, and besought | |
| The Deep to shelter us? This Hell then seemed | |
| A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay | |
| Chained on the burning lake? That sure was worse. | |
| What if the breath that kindled those grim fires, | 170 |
| Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage, | |
| And plunge us in the flames; or from above | |
| Should intermitted vengeance arm again | |
| His red right hand to plague us? What if all | |
| Her stores were opened, and this firmament | 175 |
| Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, | |
| Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall | |
| One day upon our heads; while we perhaps, | |
| Designing or exhorting glorious war, | |
| Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled. | 180 |
| Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey | |
| Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk | |
| Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains, | |
| There to converse with everlasting groans, | |
| Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved, | 185 |
| Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse. | |
| War, therefore, open or concealed, alike | |
| My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile | |
| With Him, or who deceive His mind, whose eye | |
| Views all things at one view? He from Heaven’s highth | 190 |
| All these our motions vain sees and derides, | |
| Not more almighty to resist our might | |
| Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. | |
| Shall we, then, live thus vile—the race of Heaven | |
| Thus trampled, thus expelled, to suffer here | 195 |
| Chains and these torments? Better these than worse | |
| By my advice; since fate inevitable | |
| Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, | |
| The Victor’s will. To suffer, as to do, | |
| Our strength is equal; nor the law unjust | 200 |
| That so ordains. This was at first resolved, | |
| If we were wise, against so great a foe | |
| Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. | |
| I laugh when those who at the spear are bold | |
| And ventrous, if that fail them, shrink, and fear | 205 |
| What yet they know must follow—to endure | |
| Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, | |
| The sentence of their conqueror. This is now | |
| Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, | |
| Our Supreme Foe in time may such remit | 210 |
| His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed, | |
| Not mind us not offending, satisfied | |
| With what is punished; whence these raging fires | |
| Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. | |
| Our purer essence then will overcome | 215 |
| Their noxious vapour; or, inured, not feel; | |
| Or, changed at length, and to the place conformed | |
| In temper and in nature, will receive | |
| Familiar the fierce heat; and void of pain, | |
| This horror will grow mild, this darkness light; | 220 |
| Besides what hope the never-ending flight | |
| Of future days may bring, what chance, what change | |
| Worth waiting—since our present lot appears | |
| For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, | |
| If we procure not to ourselves more woe.” | 225 |
| Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason’s garb, | |
| Counselled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth, | |
| Not peace; and after him thus Mammon spake:— | |
| “Either to disinthrone the King of Heaven | |
| We war, if war be best, or to regain | 230 |
| Our own right lost. Him to unthrone we then | |
| May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield | |
| To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife. | |
| The former, vain to hope, argues as vain | |
| The latter; for what place can be for us | 235 |
| Within Heaven’s bound, unless Heaven’s Lord Supreme | |
| We overpower? Suppose he should relent, | |
| And publish grace to all, on promise made | |
| Of new subjection; with what eyes could we | |
| Stand in his presence humble, and receive | 240 |
| Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne | |
| With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing | |
| Forced Halleluiahs, while he lordly sits | |
| Our envied sovran, and his altar breathes | |
| Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, | 245 |
| Our servile offerings? This must be our task | |
| In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome | |
| Eternity so spent in worship paid | |
| To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue, | |
| By force impossible, by leave obtained | 250 |
| Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state | |
| Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek | |
| Our own good from ourselves, and from our own | |
| Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, | |
| Free and none accountable, preferring | 255 |
| Hard liberty before the easy yoke | |
| Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear | |
| Then most conspicuous when great things of small, | |
| Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse, | |
| We can create, and in what place soe’er | 260 |
| Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain | |
| Through labour and indurance. This deep world | |
| Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst | |
| Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven’s all-ruling Sire | |
| Choose to reside, his glory unobscured, | 265 |
| And with the majesty of darkness round | |
| Covers his throne, from whence deep thunders roar, | |
| Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell! | |
| As He our darkness, cannot we His light | |
| Imitate when we please? This desart soil | 270 |
| Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold; | |
| Nor want we skill or art from whence to raise | |
| Magnificence; and what can Heaven shew more? | |
| Our torments also may, in length of time, | |
| Become our elements, these piercing fires | 275 |
| As soft as now severe, our temper changed | |
| Into their temper; which must needs remove | |
| The sensible of pain. All things invite | |
| To peaceful counsels, and the settled state | |
| Of order, how in safety best we may | 280 |
| Compose our present evils, with regard | |
| Of what we are and where, dismissing quite | |
| All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.” | |
| He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled | |
| The assembly as when hollow rocks retain | 285 |
| The sound of blustering winds, which all night long | |
| Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull | |
| Seafaring men o’erwatched, whose bark by chance, | |
| Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay | |
| After the tempest. Such applause was heard | 290 |
| As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased, | |
| Advising peace: for such another field | |
| They dreaded worse than Hell; so much the fear | |
| Of thunder and the sword of Michaël | |
| Wrought still within them; and no less desire | 295 |
| To found this nether empire, which might rise, | |
| By policy and long process’ of time, | |
| In emulation opposite to Heaven. | |
| Which when Beëlzebub perceived—than whom, | |
| Satan except, none higher sat—with grave | 300 |
| Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed | |
| A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven | |
| Deliberation sat, and public care; | |
| And princely counsel in his face yet shon, | |
| Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood, | 305 |
| 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, while thus he spake:— | |
| “Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven, | 310 |
| Ethereal Virtues! or these titles now | |
| Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called | |
| Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote | |
| Inclines—here to continue, and build up here | |
| A growing empire; doubtless! while we dream; | 315 |
| And know not that the king of Heaven hath doomed | |
| This place our dungeon—not our safe retreat | |
| Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt | |
| From Heaven’s high jurisdiction, in new league | |
| Banded against his throne, but to remain | 320 |
| In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, | |
| Under the inevitable curb, reserved | |
| His captive multitude. For He, be sure, | |
| In highth of depth, still first and last will reign | |
| Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part | 325 |
| By our revolt, but over Hell extend | |
| His empire, and with iron sceptre rule | |
| Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven, | |
| What sit we then projecting peace and war? | |
| War hath determined us and foiled with loss | 330 |
| Irreparable; terms of peace yet none | |
| Voutsafed or sought; for what peace will be given | |
| To us enslaved, but custody severe, | |
| And stripes and arbitrary punishment | |
| Inflicted? and what peace can we return, | 335 |
| But, to out power, hostility and hate, | |
| Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow, | |
| Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least | |
| May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice | |
| In doing what we most in suffering feel? | 340 |
| Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need | |
| With dangerous expedition to invade | |
| Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, | |
| Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find | |
| Some easier enterprise? There is a place | 345 |
| (If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven | |
| Err not)—another World, the happy seat | |
| Of some new rave, called Man, about this time | |
| To be created like to us, though less | |
| In power and excellence, but favoured more | 350 |
| Of Him who rules above; so was His will | |
| Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath | |
| That shook Heaven’s whole circumference confirmed. | |
| Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn | |
| What creatures there inhabit, of what mould | 355 |
| Or substance, how endued, and what their power | |
| And where their weakness; how attempted best, | |
| By force or subtlety. Though Heaven be shut, | |
| And Heaven’s high Arbitrator sit secure | |
| In his own strength, this place may lie exposed, | 360 |
| The utmost border of his kingdom, left | |
| To their defence who hold it: here, perhaps, | |
| Some advantageous act may be achieved | |
| By sudden onset—either with Hell-fire | |
| To waste his whole creation, or possess | 365 |
| All as our own, and drive, as we are driven, | |
| The puny habitants; or, if not drive, | |
| Seduce them to our party, that their God | |
| May prove their foe, and with repenting hand | |
| Abolish his own works. This would surpass | 370 |
| Common revenge, and interrupt His joy | |
| In our confusion, and our joy upraise | |
| In His disturbance; when his darling sons, | |
| Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse | |
| Their frail original, and faded bliss— | 375 |
| Faded so soon! Advise if this be worth | |
| Attempting, or to sit in darkness here | |
| Hatching vain empires.” Thus Beëlzebub, | |
| Pleaded his devilish counsel—first devised | |
| By Satan, and in part proposed: for whence, | 380 |
| But from the author of all ill, could spring | |
| So deep a malice, to confound the race | |
| Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell | |
| To mingle and involve, done all to spite | |
| The great Creator? But their spite still serves | 385 |
| His glory to augment. The bold design | |
| Pleased highly those Infernal States, and joy | |
| Sparkled in all their eyes: with full assent | |
| They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews:— | |
| “Well have ye judged, well ended long debate, | 390 |
| Synod of Gods and, like to what ye are, | |
| Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep | |
| Will once more lift us up, in spite of Fate, | |
| Nearer our ancient Seat—perhaps in view | |
| Of those bright confines, whence, with neighbouring arms, | 395 |
| And opportune excursion, we may chance | |
| Re-enter Heaven; or else in some mild zone | |
| Dwell, not unvisited of Heaven’s fair light, | |
| Secure, and at the brightening orient beam | |
| Purge off this gloom: the soft delicious air, | 400 |
| To heal the scar of these corrosive fires, | |
| Shall breathe her balm. But, first, whom shall we send | |
| In search of this new World? whom shall we find | |
| Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet | |
| The dark, unbottomed, infinite Abyss, | 405 |
| And through the palpable obscure find out | |
| His uncouth way, or spread his aerie flight, | |
| Upborne with indefatigable wings | |
| Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive | |
| The happy Isle? What strength, what art, can then | 410 |
| Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe | |
| Through the strict senteries and stations thick | |
| Of Angels watching round? Here he had need | |
| All circumspection: and we now no less | |
| Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send | 415 |
| The weight of all, and our last hope, relies.” | |
| This said, he sat; and expectation held | |
| His look suspense, awaiting who appeared | |
| To second, or oppose, or undertake | |
| The perilous attempt. But all sat mute, | 420 |
| Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each | |
| In other’s countenance read his own dismay, | |
| Astonished. None among the choice and prime | |
| Of those Heaven-warring champions could be found | |
| So hardy as to proffer or accept, | 425 |
| Alone, the dreadful voyage; till, at last, | |
| Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised | |
| Above his fellows, with monarchal pride | |
| Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake:— | |
| “O Progeny of Heaven! Empyreal Thrones! | 430 |
| With reason hath deep silence and demur | |
| Seized us, though undismayed. Long is the way | |
| And hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light. | |
| Our prison strong, this huge convex of fire, | |
| Outrageous to devour, immures us round | 435 |
| Ninefold; and gates of burning adamant, | |
| Barred over us, prohibit all egress. | |
| These passed, if any pass, the void profound | |
| Of unessential Night receives him next, | |
| Wide-gaping, and with utter loss of being | 440 |
| Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf. | |
| If thence he scape, into whatever world, | |
| Or unknown region, what remains him less | |
| Than unknown dangers, and as hard escape? | |
| But I should ill become this throne, O Peers, | 445 |
| And this imperial sovranty, adorned | |
| With splendour, armed with power, if aught proposed | |
| And judged of public moment in the shape | |
| Of difficulty or danger, could deter | |
| Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume | 450 |
| These royalties, and not refuse to reign, | |
| Refusing to accept as great a share | |
| Of hazard as of honour, due alike | |
| To him who reigns, and so much to him due | |
| Of hazard more as he above the rest | 455 |
| High honoured sits? Go, therefore, mighty Powers, | |
| Terror of Heaven, though fallen; intend at home, | |
| While here shall be our home, what best may ease | |
| The present misery, and render Hell | |
| More tolerable; if there be cure or charm | 460 |
| To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain | |
| Of this ill mansion: intermit no watch | |
| Against a wakeful Foe, while I abroad | |
| Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek | |
| Deliverance for us all. This enterprise | 465 |
| None shall partake with me.” Thus saying, rose | |
| The Monarch, and prevented all reply; | |
| Prudent lest, from his resolution raised, | |
| Others among the chief might offer now, | |
| Certain to be refused, what erst they feared, | 470 |
| And, so refused, might in opinion stand | |
| His rivals, winning cheap the high repute | |
| Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they | |
| Dreaded not more the adventure than his voice | |
| Forbidding; and at once with him they rose. | 475 |
| Their rising all at once was as the sound | |
| Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend | |
| With awful reverence prone, and as a God | |
| Extol him equal to the Highest in Heaven. | |
| Nor failed they to express how much they praised | 480 |
| That for the general safety he despised | |
| His own: for neither do the Spirits damned | |
| Lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast | |
| Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, | |
| Or close ambition varnished o’er with zeal. | 485 |
| Thus they their doubtful consultations dark | |
| Ended, rejoicing in their matchless Chief: | |
| As, when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds | |
| Ascending, while the North-wind sleeps, o’erspread | |
| Heaven’s cheerful face, the louring element | 490 |
| Scowls o’er the darkened lantskip snow or shower, | |
| If chance the radiant sun, with farewell sweet, | |
| Extend his evening beam, the fields revive, | |
| The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds | |
| Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. | 495 |
| O shame to men! Devil with devil damned | |
| Firm concord holds; men only disagree | |
| Of creatures rational, though under hope | |
| Of heavenly grace, and, God proclaiming peace, | |
| Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife | 500 |
| Among themselves, and levy cruel wars | |
| Wasting the earth, each other to destroy: | |
| As if (which might induce us to accord) | |
| Man had not hellish foes enow besides, | |
| That day and night for his destruction wait! | 505 |
| The Stygian council thus dissolved; and forth | |
| In order came the grand Infernal Peers: | |
| Midst came their mighty Paramount, and seemed | |
| Alone the Antagonist of Heaven, nor less | |
| Than Hell’s dread Emperor, with pomp supreme, | 510 |
| And god-like imitated state: him round | |
| A globe of fiery Seraphim inclosed | |
| With bright imblazonry, and horrent arms. | |
| Then of their session ended they bid cry | |
| With trumpet’s regal sound the great result: | 515 |
| Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim | |
| Put to their mouths the sounding alchemy, | |
| By harald’s voice explained; the hollow Abyss | |
| Heard far and wide, and all the host of Hell | |
| With deafening shout returned them loud acclaim. | 520 |
| Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat raised | |
| By false presumptuous hope, the rangèd Powers | |
| Disband; and, wandering, each his several way | |
| Pursues, as inclination or sad choice, | |
| Leads him perplexed, where he may likeliest find | 525 |
| Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain | |
| The irksome hours, till his great Chief return. | |
| Part on the plain, or in the air sublime, | |
| Upon the wing or in swift race contend, | |
| As at the Olympian games or Pythian fields; | 530 |
| Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal | |
| With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form: | |
| As when, to warn proud cities, war appears | |
| Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush | |
| To battle in the clouds; before each van | 535 |
| Prick forth the aerie knights, and couch their spears, | |
| Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms | |
| From either end of heaven the welkin burns. | |
| Others, with vast Typhœan rage, more fell, | |
| Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air | 540 |
| In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar:— | |
| As when Alcides, from Oechalia crowned | |
| With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore | |
| Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, | |
| And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw | 545 |
| Into the Euboic sea. Others, more mild, | |
| Retreated in a silent valley, sing | |
| With notes angelical to many a harp | |
| Their own heroic deeds, and hapless fall | |
| By doom of battle, and complain that Fate | 550 |
| Free Virtue should enthrall to Force or Chance. | |
| Their song was partial; but the harmony | |
| (What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?) | |
| Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment | |
| The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet | 555 |
| (For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense) | |
| Others apart sat on a hill retired, | |
| In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high | |
| Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate— | |
| Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute— | 560 |
| And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. | |
| Of good and evil much they argued then, | |
| Of happiness and final misery, | |
| Passion and apathy, and glory and shame: | |
| Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy!— | 565 |
| Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charm | |
| Pain for a while or anguish, and excite | |
| Fallacious hope, or arm the obdured breast | |
| With stubborn patience as with triple steel. | |
| Another part, in squadrons and gross bands, | 570 |
| On bold adventure to discover wide | |
| That dismal world, if any clime perhaps | |
| Might yield them easier habitation, bend | |
| Four ways their flying march, along the banks | |
| Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge | 575 |
| Into the burning lake their baleful streams— | |
| Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate; | |
| Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep; | |
| Cocytus, named of lamentation loud | |
| Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegeton, | 580 |
| Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. | |
| Far off from these, a slow and silent stream, | |
| Lethe, the river of oblivion, rowls | |
| Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks | |
| Forthwith his former state and being forgets— | 585 |
| Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. | |
| Beyond this flood a frozen continent | |
| Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms | |
| Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land | |
| Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems | 590 |
| Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice, | |
| A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog | |
| Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old, | |
| Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air | |
| Burns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire. | 595 |
| Thither, by harpy-footed Furies haled, | |
| At certain revolutions all the damned | |
| Are brought; and feel by turns the bitter change | |
| Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, | |
| From beds of raging fire to starve in ice | 600 |
| Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine | |
| Immovable, infixed, and frozen round | |
| Periods of time,—thence hurried back to fire. | |
| They ferry over this Lethean sound | |
| Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment, | 605 |
| And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reach | |
| The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose | |
| In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe, | |
| All in one moment, and so near the brink; | |
| But Fate withstands, and, to oppose the attempt, | 610 |
| Medusa with Gorgonian terror guards | |
| The ford, and of itself the water flies | |
| All taste of living wight, as once it fled | |
| The lip of Tantalus. Thus roving on | |
| In confused march forlorn, the adventrous bands, | 615 |
| With shuddering horror pale, and eyes aghast, | |
| Viewed first their lamentable lot, and found | |
| No rest. Through many a dark and dreary vale | |
| They passed, and many a region dolorous, | |
| O’er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, | 620 |
| Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death— | |
| A universe of death, which God by curse | |
| Created evil, for evil only good; | |
| Where all life dies, death lives, and Nature breeds, | |
| Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, | 625 |
| Abominable, inutterable, and worse | |
| Than fables yet have feigned or fear conceived, | |
| Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimæras dire. | |
| Meanwhile the Adversary of God and Man, | |
| Satan, with thoughts inflamed of highest design, | 630 |
| Puts on swift wings, and toward the gates of Hell | |
| Explores his solitary flight: sometimes | |
| He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left; | |
| Now shaves with level wing the Deep, then soars | |
| Up to the fiery concave towering high. | 635 |
| As when far off at sea a fleet descried | |
| Hangs in the clouds, by æquinoctial winds | |
| Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles | |
| Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring | |
| Their spicy drugs; they on the trading flood, | 640 |
| Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape, | |
| Ply stemming nightly toward the pole: so seemed | |
| Far off the flying Fiend. At last appear | |
| Hell-hounds, high reaching to the horrid roof, | |
| And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were brass, | 645 |
| Three iron, three of adamantine rock, | |
| Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire, | |
| Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat | |
| On either side a formidable Shape. | |
| The one seemed a woman to the waist, and fair, | 650 |
| But ended foul in many a scaly fold, | |
| Voluminous and vast—a serpent armed | |
| With mortal sting. About her middle round | |
| A cry of Hell-hounds never-ceasing barked | |
| With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung | 655 |
| A hideous peal; yet, when they list, would creep, | |
| If aught disturbed their noise, into her womb, | |
| And kennel there; yet there still barked and howled | |
| With in unseen. Far less abhorred than these | |
| Vexed Scylla, bathing in the sea that parts | 660 |
| Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore; | |
| Nor uglier follow the night-hag, when, called | |
| In secret, riding through the air she comes, | |
| Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance | |
| With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon | 665 |
| Eclipses at their charms. The other Shape— | |
| If shape it might be called that shape had none | |
| Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb; | |
| Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, | |
| For each seemed either—black it stood as Night, | 670 |
| Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, | |
| And shook a dreadful dart: what seemed his head | |
| The likeness of a kingly crown had on. | |
| Satan was now at hand, and from his seat | |
| The monster moving onward came as fast | 675 |
| With horrid strides; Hell trembled as he strode. | |
| The undaunted Fiend what this might be admired— | |
| Admired, not feared (God and his Son except, | |
| Created thing naught valued he nor shunned), | |
| And with disdainful look thus first began:— | 680 |
| “Whence and what art thou, execrable Shape, | |
| That dar’st though grim and terrible, advance | |
| Thy miscreated front athwart my way | |
| To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass, | |
| That be assured, without leave asked of thee. | 685 |
| Retire; or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, | |
| Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heaven.” | |
| To whom the Goblin, full of wrauth, replied:— | |
| “Art thou that Traitor-Angel, art thou he, | |
| Who first broke peace in Heaven and faith, till then | 690 |
| Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms | |
| Drew after him the third part of Heaven’s sons, | |
| Conjured against the Highest—for which both thou | |
| And they, outcast from God, are here condemned | |
| To waste eternal days in woe and pain? | 695 |
| And reckon’st thou thyself with Spirits of Heaven, | |
| Hell-doomed, and breath’st defiance here and scorn, | |
| Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, | |
| Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment, | |
| False fugitive; and to thy speed add wings, | 700 |
| Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue | |
| Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart | |
| Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before.” | |
| So spake the griesly Terror, and in shape, | |
| So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold | 705 |
| More dreadful and deform. On the other side, | |
| Incensed with indignation, Satan stood | |
| Unterrified, and like a comet burned, | |
| That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge | |
| In the artick sky, and from his horrid hair | 710 |
| Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head | |
| Levelled his deadly aim; their fatal hands | |
| No second stroke intend; and such a frown | |
| Each cast at the other as when two black clouds, | |
| With Heaven’s artillery fraught, come rattling on | 715 |
| Over the Caspian,—then stand front to front | |
| Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow | |
| To join their dark encounter in mid-air. | |
| So frowned the mighty combatants that Hell | |
| Grew darker at their frown; so matched they stood; | 720 |
| For never but once more was either like | |
| To meet so great a foe. And now great deeds | |
| Had been achieved, whereof all Hell had rung, | |
| Had not the snaky Sorceress, that sat | |
| Fast by Hell-gate and kept the fatal key, | 725 |
| Risen, and with hideous outcry rushed between. | |
| “O father, what intends thy hand,” she cried, | |
| “Against thy only son? What fury, O son, | |
| Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart | |
| Against thy father’s head? And know’st for whom? | 730 |
| For Him who sits above, and laughs the while | |
| At thee, ordained his drudge to execute | |
| Whate’er his wrauth, which He calls justice, bids— | |
| His wrauth, which one day will destroy ye both!” | |
| She spake, and at her words the hellish Pest | 735 |
| Forbore: then these to her Satan returned:— | |
| “So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange | |
| Thou interposest, that my sudden hand, | |
| Prevented, spares to tell thee yet by deeds | |
| What it intends, till first I know of thee | 740 |
| What thing thou art, thus double-formed, and why | |
| In this infernal vale first met, thou call’st | |
| Me father, and that fantasm call’st my son. | |
| I know thee not, nor ever saw till now | |
| Sight more detestable than him and thee.” | 745 |
| To whom thus the Portress of Hell-gate replied:— | |
| “Hast thou forgot me, then; and do I seem | |
| Now in thine eyes so foul?—once deemed so fair | |
| In Heaven, when at the assembly, and in sight | |
| Of all the Seraphim with thee combined | 750 |
| In bold conspiracy against Heaven’s King, | |
| All on a sudden miserable pain | |
| Surprised thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum | |
| In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast | |
| Threw forth, till on the left side opening wide, | 755 |
| Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright, | |
| Then shining heavenly fair, a goddess armed, | |
| Out of thy head I sprung. Amazement seized | |
| All the host of Heaven; back they recoiled afraid | |
| At first, and called me Sin, and for a sign | 760 |
| Portentous held me; but, familiar grown, | |
| I pleased, and with attractive graces won | |
| The most averse—thee chiefly, who, full oft | |
| Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing, | |
| Becam’st enamoured; and such joy thou took’st | 765 |
| With me in secret that my womb conceived | |
| A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose, | |
| And fields were fought in Heaven: wherein remained | |
| (For what could else?) to our Almighty Foe | |
| Clear victory; to our part loss and rout | 770 |
| Through all the Empyrean. Down they fell, | |
| Driven headlong from the pitch of Heaven, down | |
| Into this Deep; and in the general fall | |
| I also: at which time this powerful Key | |
| Into my hands was given, with charge to keep | 775 |
| These gates for ever shut, which none can pass | |
| Without my opening. Pensive here I sat | |
| Alone; but long I sat not, till my womb, | |
| Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown, | |
| Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. | 780 |
| At last this odious offspring whom thou seest, | |
| Thine own begotten, breaking violent way, | |
| Tore through my entrails, that, with fear and pain | |
| Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew | |
| Transformed: but he my inbred enemy | 785 |
| Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart, | |
| Made to destroy. I fled, and cried out Death! | |
| Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed | |
| From all her caves, and back resounded Death! | |
| I fled; but he pursued (though more, it seems, | 790 |
| Inflamed with lust than rage), and, swifter far, | |
| Me overtook, his mother, all dismayed, | |
| And, in embraces forcible and foul | |
| Engendering with me, of that rape begot | |
| These yelling monsters, that with ceaseless cry | 795 |
| Surround me, as thou saw’st—hourly conceived | |
| And hourly born, with sorrow infinite | |
| To me: for, when they list, into the womb | |
| That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw | |
| My bowels, their repast; then, bursting forth | 800 |
| Afresh, with conscious terrors vex me round, | |
| That rest or intermission none I find. | |
| Before mine eyes in opposition sits | |
| Grim Death, my son and foe, who sets them on, | |
| And me, his parent, would full soon devour | 805 |
| For want of other prey, but that he knows | |
| His end with mine involved, and knows that I | |
| Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane, | |
| Whenever that shall be: so Fate pronounced. | |
| But thou, O Father, I forewarn thee, shun | 810 |
| His deadly arrow: neither vainly hope | |
| To be invulnerable in those bright arms, | |
| Though tempered heavenly; for that mortal dint, | |
| Save He who reigns above, none can resist.” | |
| She finished; and the subtle Fiend his lore | 815 |
| Soon learned, now milder, and thus answered smooth:— | |
| “Dear daughter—since thou claim’st me for thy sire, | |
| And my fair son here show’st me, the dear pledge | |
| Of dalliance had with thee in Heaven, and joys | |
| Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change | 820 |
| Befallen us unforeseen, unthought-of—know, | |
| I come no enemy, but to set free | |
| From out this dark and dismal house of pain | |
| Both him and thee, and all the Heavenly host | |
| Of Spirits that, in our just pretences armed, | 825 |
| Fell with us from on high. From them I go | |
| This uncouth errand sole, and one for all | |
| Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread | |
| The unfounded Deep, and through the void immense | |
| To search, with wandering quest, a place foretold | 830 |
| Should be—and, by concurring signs, ere now | |
| Created vast and round—a place of bliss | |
| In the pourlieues of Heaven; and therein placed | |
| A race of upstart creatures, to supply | |
| Perhaps our vacant room, though more removed, | 835 |
| Lest Heaven, surcharged with potent multitude, | |
| Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or aught | |
| Than this more secret, now designed, I haste | |
| To know; and this once known, shall soon return | |
| And bring ye to the place where thou and Death | 840 |
| Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen | |
| Wing silently the buxom air, imbalmed | |
| With odours. There ye shall be fed and filled | |
| Immeasurably; all things shall be your prey.” | |
| He ceased; for both seemed highly pleased, and Death | 845 |
| Grinned horrible a ghastly smile, to hear | |
| His famine should be filled, and blessed his maw | |
| Destined to that good hour. No less rejoiced | |
| His mother bad, and thus bespake her Sire:— | |
| “The key of this infernal Pit, by due | 850 |
| And by command of Heaven’s all-powerful King, | |
| I keep, by Him forbidden to unlock | |
| These adamantine gates; against all force | |
| Death ready stands to interpose his dart, | |
| Fearless to be o’ermatched by living might. | 855 |
| But what I owe I to His commands above, | |
| Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down | |
| Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, | |
| To sit in hateful office here confined, | |
| Inhabitant of Heaven and heavenly-born— | 860 |
| Here in perpetual agony and pain, | |
| With terrors and with clamours compassed round | |
| Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed? | |
| Thou art my father, thou my author, thou | |
| My being gav’st me; whom should I obey | 865 |
| But thee? whom follow? Thou wilt bring me soon | |
| To that new world of light and bliss, among | |
| The gods who live at ease, where I shall reign | |
| At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems | |
| Thy daughter and thy darling, without end.” | 870 |
| Thus saying, from her side the fatal key, | |
| Sad instrument of all our woe, she took; | |
| And, toward the gate rowling her bestial train, | |
| Forthwith the huge portcullis high up-drew, | |
| Which, but herself, not all the Stygian Powers | 875 |
| Could once have moved; then in the keyhole turns | |
| The intricate wards, and every bolt and bar | |
| Of massy iron or solid rock with ease | |
| Unfastens. On a sudden open fly, | |
| With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, | 880 |
| The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate | |
| Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook | |
| Of Erebus. She opened; but to shut | |
| Excelled her power: the gates wide open stood, | |
| That with extended wings a bannered host, | 885 |
| Under spread ensigns marching, might pass through | |
| With horse and chariots ranked in loose array; | |
| So wide they stood, and like a furnace-mouth | |
| Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. | |
| Before their eyes in sudden view appear | 890 |
| The secrets of the hoary Deep—a dark | |
| Illimitable ocean, without bound, | |
| Without dimension: where length, breadth, and highth, | |
| And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night | |
| And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold | 895 |
| Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise | |
| Of endless wars, and by confusion stand. | |
| For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce, | |
| Strive here for maistrie, and to battle bring | |
| Their embryon atoms: they around the flag | 900 |
| Of each his faction, in their several clans, | |
| Light-armed or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow, | |
| Swarm populous, unnumbered as the sands | |
| Of Barca or Cyrene’s torrid soil, | |
| Levied to side with warring winds, and poise | 905 |
| Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere | |
| He rules a moment: Chaos umpire sits, | |
| And by decision more imbroils the fray | |
| By which he reigns: next him, high arbiter, | |
| Chance governs all. Into this wild Abyss, | 910 |
| The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave, | |
| Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire, | |
| But all these in their pregnant causes mixed | |
| Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, | |
| Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain | 915 |
| His dark materials to create more worlds— | |
| Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend | |
| Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while, | |
| Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith | |
| He had to cross. Nor was his ear less pealed | 920 |
| With noises loud and ruinous (to compare | |
| Great things with small) than when Bellona storms | |
| With all her battering engines, bent to rase | |
| Some capital city; or less than if this frame | |
| Of heaven were falling, and these elements | 925 |
| In mutiny had from her axle torn | |
| The steadfast Earth. At last his sail-broad vans | |
| He spreads for flight, and, in the surging smoke | |
| Uplifted, spurns the ground; thence many a league, | |
| As in a cloudy chair, ascending rides | 930 |
| Audacious; but, that seat soon failing, meets | |
| A vast vacuity. All unawares, | |
| Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb-down he drops | |
| Ten thousand fadom deep, and to this hour | |
| Down had been falling, had not, by ill chance, | 935 |
| The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud, | |
| Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him | |
| As many miles aloft. That fury stayed— | |
| Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea, | |
| Nor good dry land-nigh foundered, on he fares, | 940 |
| Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, | |
| Half flying; behoves him now both oar and sail. | |
| As when a gryfon through the wilderness | |
| With wingèd course, o’er hill or moory dale, | |
| Pursues the Arimpasian, who by stealth | 945 |
| Had from his wakeful custody purloined | |
| The guarded gold; so eagerly the Fiend | |
| O’er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, | |
| With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, | |
| And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies. | 950 |
| At length, a universal hubbub wild | |
| Of stunning sounds, and voices all confused, | |
| Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear | |
| With loudest vehemence. Thither he plies | |
| Undaunted, to meet there whatever Power | 955 |
| Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss | |
| Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask | |
| Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies | |
| Bordering on light; when straight behold the throne | |
| Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread | 960 |
| Wide on the wasteful Deep! With him enthroned | |
| Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things, | |
| The consort of his reign; and by them stood | |
| Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name | |
| Of Demogorgon; Rumour next, and Chance, | 965 |
| And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroiled, | |
| And Discord with a thousand various mouths. | |
| To whom Satan, turning boldly, thus:—“Ye Powers | |
| And Spirits of this nethermost Abyss, | |
| Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy | 970 |
| With purpose to explore or to disturb | |
| The secrets of your realm; but, by constraint | |
| Wandering this darksome desert, as my way | |
| Lies through your spacious empire up to light, | |
| Alone and without guide, half lost, I seek, | 975 |
| What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds | |
| Confine with Heaven; or, if some other place, | |
| From your dominion won, the Ethereal King | |
| Possesses lately, thither to arrive | |
| I travel this profound. Direct my course; | 980 |
| Directed, no mean recompense it brings | |
| To your behoof, if I that region lost. | |
| All usurpation thence expelled, reduce | |
| To her original darkness and your sway | |
| (Which is my present journey), and once more | 985 |
| Erect the standard there of ancient Night. | |
| Yours be the advantage all, mine the revenge!” | |
| Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old, | |
| With faltering speech and visage incomposed, | |
| Answered:—“I know thee, stranger, who thou art— | 990 |
| That mighty leading Angel, who of late | |
| Made head against Heaven’s King, though overthrown. | |
| I saw and heard; for such a numerous host | |
| Fled not in silence through the frighted Deep, | |
| With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, | 995 |
| Confusion worse confounded; and Heaven-gates | |
| Poured out by millions her victorious bands, | |
| Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here | |
| Keep residence; if all I can will serve | |
| That little which is left so to defend, | 1000 |
| Encroached on still through our intestine broils | |
| Weakening the sceptre of old Night: first, Hell, | |
| Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath; | |
| Now lately Heaven and Earth, another world | |
| Hung o’er my realm, linked in a golden chain | 1005 |
| To that side Heaven from whence your legions fell! | |
| If that way be your walk, you have not far; | |
| So much the nearer danger. Go, and speed; | |
| Havoc, and spoil, and ruin, are my gain.” | |
| He ceased; and Satan staid not to reply, | 1010 |
| But, glad that now his sea should find a shore, | |
| With fresh alacrity and force renewed | |
| Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire, | |
| Into the wild expanse, and through the shock | |
| Of fighting elements, on all sides round | 1015 |
| Environed, wins his way; harder beset | |
| And more endangered than when Argo passed | |
| Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks, | |
| Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned | |
| Charybdis, and by the other Whirlpool steered. | 1020 |
| So he with difficulty and labour hard | |
| Moved on. With difficulty and labour he; | |
| But, he once passed, soon after, when Man fell, | |
| Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain, | |
| Following his track (such was the will of Heaven) | 1025 |
| Paved after him a broad and beaten way | |
| Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling gulf | |
| Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length, | |
| From Hell continued, reaching the utmost Orb | |
| Of this frail World; by which the Spirits perverse | 1030 |
| With easy intercourse pass to and fro | |
| To tempt or punish mortals, except whom | |
| God and good Angels guard by special grace. | |
| But now at last the sacred influence | |
| Of light appears, and from the walls of Heaven | 1035 |
| Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night | |
| A glimmering dawn. Here Nature first begins | |
| Her fardest verge, and Chaos to retire, | |
| As from her utmost works, a broken foe, | |
| With tumult less and with less hostile din; | 1040 |
| That Satan with less toil, and now with ease, | |
| Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light, | |
| And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds | |
| Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn; | |
| Or in the emptier waste, resembling air, | 1045 |
| Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold | |
| Far off the imperial Heaven, extended wide | |
| In circuit, undetermined square or round, | |
| With opal towers and battlements adorned | |
| Of living sapphire, once his native seat, | 1050 |
| And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain, | |
| This pendent World, in bignes |
